Chapter 29

Rumple was pleasantly surprised to learn that the small unit by his bed was more than just a television; it also offered telephone and internet access. He was shaking his head with a bemused smile on his face. When the Dark Curse had created this town and brought everyone to this land, it had not only mimicked the technology of the world outside, but implanted a familiarity with it into the memories of everyone it transported. Even when the curse had broken, it had left those memories intact, so that the 'culture shock' had been significantly lessened. But for Rumple, who had just spent over two years in a land with no computers, no television, no refrigeration, no…

…This was going to take a bit of getting used to.

But then, becoming the Dark One and suddenly having magic at his fingertips had also required an adjustment. Strangely enough, losing it had been a great deal easier than he might have believed possible. He'd barely felt its lack when he'd been with Bae in turn-of-the-twentieth-century London. Nobody else had possessed such power, after all, and their technology—primitive by present-day standards, to be sure—had been wondrous enough for them. And for him and Bae, as well.

He was trying to recall the site that Henry had shown him yesterday; while he normally wouldn't bother with such diversions, he appreciated that some of the games of which his grandson was so enamored would require a bit more mental engagement than that of the television. And if he was still bedridden for the most part—something yesterday's embarrassing fall had brought home to him—he rather thought he'd prefer such a pastime to flipping stations, hoping for something mildly entertaining to watch. Belle had promised to bring reading material this afternoon, and he was hoping that he'd be able to focus enough to absorb it. Meanwhile, though, the games were probably the best option available to him.

"Uh… hey."

Rumple looked up, and his lips curved immediately into a broader smile than he usually would have allowed to show. "Emma!"

"I want you to read these," Rumple said, pushing the volumes toward him. "There is… much to discuss, and these will make it easier."

Bae took the books without looking at them. "Uh… if this is because you want to make sure I know about where babies come from, I kind of found out when I was nine." He flinched a bit at the incredulity on his father's face and said quickly, "I thought those sheep were just… wrestling, until Moraine explained it!"

"That… wasn't the discussion I was planning on having," Rumple managed. "Although if you didn't know the basics at your age, I really rather think we might have had to." It would probably be an easier one, at that. "No, son. Those books… Do you recall when first we came here, and I told you that I would need not merely to take on a surname, but a different name entirely?"

"Yeah…" Bae nodded uncertainly. Papa had only said that his name was far more familiar here than it had a right to be, and would evoke far too many of the wrong kind of question. When Bae had pressed him for a better explanation, Papa had only said that it would need to wait for another time.

"The first book," Rumple said, gesturing to the blue hardcover. "Open it. Read the table of contents."

Bae raised an eyebrow, but he complied. "The Bronze Ring," he read aloud. "Prince Hyacinth and the Dear Little Princess." He looked up. "Seriously? Wait." His father looked as though he was trying not to… laugh? "What's so funny?"

Rumple shook his head. "Oh, nothing. You just… reminded me of someone you've yet to meet. Possibly," he added. "Keep going."

"East of the Sun and West of the Moon," Bae sighed, rolling his eyes slightly. "The Yellow Dwarf. Little Red Riding Hood. The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood… Papa, what is this?" His father didn't answer, but indicated that he should keep going. "Cinderella or the Little Glass Slipper—who makes slippers out of glass? I mean, if you stepped down too hard in them, they'd shatter and probably cut your feet! Fine," he added. "I'm reading! Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp, The Tale of a Youth Who Set Out to Learn What Fear Was, Rumpels—" His head jerked up and his eyes locked incredulously on his father's.

"I think," Rumple said slowly, "you ought to start with that one. No need to read it aloud. Just say it over quietly to yourself. It's really quite distorted," he added, "but amidst the exaggerations and outright falsehoods, there lies a tiny kernel of truth. Let's begin there, shall we," he continued, not really asking. "And no, you're not in it. Truthfully, I'm not certain I am. But since the character in question is supposed to be me, well, just read. And once you have, we can begin our discussion."

"So, uh," Emma stepped into the room a bit nervously, "I guess I probably shouldn't have invited you to bite my head off if I wasn't sure I could take it."

Rumple shook his head. "If it helps, it wasn't my intention to do so."

Emma tilted her head to one side, as though weighing his words. "I think it kind of does, a little," she admitted. "I… I was thinking about a few things afterwards. Like…" She sat down beside the bed.

"Look," she said, taking a breath, "thanks to Sidney's smear piece on me in the Mirror, back when I ran for sheriff, it's no secret that, before I came here, cutting and running when things got too… intense was kind of how I got through life. Until Henry," she added, wincing a bit. Regina had confronted her about that habit early on, but Sidney had made it public to undermine her credibility in the election. "I was changing," she added. "Or trying to. Anyway, I stuck around. For him, at first, and later for other reasons. But after Pan cast the curse," she saw Rumple's face harden and continued quickly, "and Regina gave me those false memories, well part of that package was that I kind of… forgot about how running away from my problems used to be my answer to everything. Because with Henry in my life, it couldn't be. Maybe when he was younger, but once he started school, I couldn't just… uproot him because I was going through a rough time. So that whole cut-and-run thing I really used to do... just didn't happen. I mean, of course it happened," she said. "There's a paper trail to confirm it all; Regina's spell didn't erase that. But I didn't remember any of it. As far as I knew, I'd been pretty… settled for a while."

"Your point?" Rumple asked a bit sharply.

Emma sighed. "I think that when the potion restored my memories, it also gave me back those old… coping mechanisms, and maybe after having them blocked for so long, they came back a lot stronger. Even with my false memories, there were times I know I wanted to leave and didn't. And before Hook showed up, Henry and I were living a pretty good life in New York. It was just… easier to see this as a temporary thing: go back to Storybrooke, save the day, and then get home and get back to normal. Only," she sighed, "like it or not, being the Savior and all… this is home, and it's about as 'normal' as it gets. And talking to you about it just… reminded me, when I'd been trying so hard to forget."

She gave him a pained smile. "Still friends?"

"Still?" Rumple repeated, astonishment evident. "Whenever did that happen?"

Emma blinked "I-I thought… I guess… Sor—" She looked down in shock at the hand that was suddenly grasping her wrist.

"That's more than enough apologizing for one day," Rumple informed her tartly. "Particularly when," he sighed, "you weren't the only party at fault. Your offering me an opportunity to castigate you did not mean I should have taken it." He lowered his eyes a bit guiltily. "I-I was angry, yes. And," he swallowed hard, "afraid. Because, as you so correctly pointed out, your proposed action would have deprived me of my grandson. But if the two of you had gone," he looked up a bit nervously, "Henry would not have been the only person I would have missed." The admission came out so quickly, Rumple was half-certain it must have been garbled beyond comprehension. But then Emma's eyes widened and she brought up her free hand to cover the one he'd clamped about her other wrist. "I suppose," he murmured, looking away again, "lashing out at you was my coping mechanism." He met her eyes again, just in time to catch a slight understanding nod. He took another breath. "Now," he continued, "while I'll admit your question startled me, well, just because I can't pin down the precise moment when our relationship progressed to the point you mentioned earlier does not mean it didn't happen. Somehow," he added with a faint smile that was quickly matched and surpassed by a broader one on Emma's face.

Bae set the book down, his eyes wide. "How…?" he ventured. He looked at the cover again. "The Blue Fairy Book. Did… did the Rhuel Ghorm write this?"

"It crossed my mind when I came across it," Rumple nodded, "but there was an entire series of these volumes at the bookshop, each named after a different color. It would explain a great deal, though," he admitted.

"Okay, but this story… a miller's daughter, guessing your name… none of that happened."

Rumple smiled. "Oh, but it did. Or it will. Well, some of it at any rate. You see," he said, warming to his topic, "the miller's daughter—her name was Cora, by the way—was destined to have a daughter who would one day perform a great service for me." He was circling the issue and he knew it, but while he had every intention of telling Bae the truth, he was finding it more difficult than he'd thought to come out and speak it. The book was a good beginning, but it wasn't only a beginning. "At the time," he went on, "I—that is to say, my younger self—meant to leave nothing to chance. He intended to raise the girl, so that when the time came, she would know the task she was destined to fulfill. But," he sighed, "while he did not acquire the infant, neither did he snap himself in two when he failed."

"And you were just… dancing around a campfire and telling anyone who could hear you your name?" Bae asked skeptically. "Papa, I know that the Darkness was changing you, but did it make you that stu—careless?" He corrected himself quickly enough, but Rumple smiled all the same.

"Another distortion," he replied. "No, while there's great power to be had in knowing someone's name, I never struck that bargain with her. If I had," he sighed, "she'd never have got the better of me."

Bae's eyes widened. "How?"

Rumple felt himself relax ever so slightly. It was never pleasant for him to discuss his failures, but this one had turned out well in the end, and now that the subject had been raised, it was a bit easier to lay it out on the table, as it were. "Well," he admitted slowly, "I'll admit that when first I approached her, I expected her to be like every other desperate soul needing a favor from the Dark One, who'd grab for my gift and ignore the price until it was time to pay the bill. But she wasn't." He smiled. "She knew the cost of my assistance and accepted the terms, with one alteration." He paused for a beat, gratified when Bae leaned forward expectantly. "She wanted to learn how to spin the straw herself. And that request impressed me enough that I was moved to tell her my name. Not that it was ever the secret that the book you hold would make you think it was."

"Wait," Bae said, worried now. "If there's power in knowing a name, then…?"

"There's more power in rewording a contract," Rumple sighed. "And in being able to lead someone to wish to do so." He shook his head. "She was," he said hesitantly, "the first woman who'd caught my interest in over two centuries. The first, in fact," he admitted, "since I lost your mother. I-I can stop if you'd rather not hear more," he added quickly.

Bae shook his head. "It's okay, Papa," he said. "You just surprised me is all. But after two hundred years? I think Mama would understand. And I do," he added. "Want to hear more, that is. What happened next?"

"Emma." Both Emma and Rumple looked up to see Dr. Whale standing in the doorway, his smile belying the serious expression in his eyes. "I need a private word. With Rumpelstiltskin, first, but then with you after that."

Emma blinked. "Uh… sure. Should I just wait outside?"

"There's a lounge at the end of the hall," Whale said. "I'll see you there."

After Emma left, Whale turned to Rumple, who was now sitting up a bit nervously. Before the doctor could say anything further, Rumple began hollowly, "I take it that, despite all precautions, I've managed to infect someone and now you're planning to run your tests on everyone else I've been in contact with."

"Pardon?"

"Please, tell me it's not Belle?" Rumple pleaded, talking over him. Then he blinked. "I didn't…?"

"Not so far as I know," Whale said. "But even if you had, it would probably be too early to tell. It takes time for the condition to show up on the test and even if it does, it'll almost definitely be dormant for months, if not years."

Rumple absorbed that. "Then, why are you here?" he demanded, more than a little testily.

Whale hesitated. "Actually, I think you being in the condition you're in, you might have done me a favor. But before I confirm that, I need to know: the curse that brought us here, it messed with our memories, but it didn't mess with our bodies, right? Ashley was in her ninth month when it hit and she stayed that way until time started moving again; the magic you used on your ankle wore off, and I'm guessing if someone had a cold, then they had it for twenty-eight years?"

"That would be a fair assessment," Rumple agreed.

"Okay. And I'm guessing that literacy rates could be chalked up to Curse memories, too?"

"Well, most people in our land had enough schooling to read a conscription notice or a tax assessment, but yes, you're correct." His eyes narrowed. "What's your point?"

"Did the curse do anything else when it was making sure that we had everything we'd need to interact with a world that was spelled to never find us in the first place?"

Rumple tilted his head with an annoyed frown. "Perhaps, you could tell me just what it is you're driving at?"

Whale took another breath. "Measles. Mumps. Rubella. Diphtheria. Pertussis. Varicella. The diseases that almost every child in this realm would be vaccinated against before their sixth year, unless there was some medical reason not to be. Were those inoculations worked into the Dark Curse, or…?"

Rumple's face turned several shades paler, as he realized what Whale wanted to know. The Dark Curse had frozen everyone's health in the state it had been when they'd been brought to this land. Those who had been ill or injured—as Rumple now knew the prince had been—had been treated with twentieth-century medical know-how. But the majority who had been hale and hearty when the Curse had come might well have had memories of receiving vaccinations, but not the vaccines themselves.

Whale sighed. "I was afraid of that. All right. I'd better talk to the rest of the staff here; we'll get a clinic set up. The logistics can be worked out; maybe we can set up centers at the library and the town hall…" he added, thinking aloud. He met Rumple's eyes again. "It's good you've responded so well to the treatment," he said. "If your TB were still active, we'd have to wait before immunizing you. As it is," he smiled, "I'll start preparing the inoculations and I'll be back to administer them within the hour. I'm glad we've started tapering you off of the Tavronius serum," he added, "Side effects of the vaccines are generally fairly mild: a bit of soreness at the injection site is the most common one, but there are a couple of others I'll go over with you when I come back. Generally, they all fade after a day or two. Still, having your healing spells back will help you cope with that stuff, right?"

Rumple's eyes widened, but he managed a jerky nod and a slow smile. "It will indeed," he murmured. "It will indeed."

Bae was wide-eyed by the time Rumple was finished. "So, she…" He frowned. "She didn't exactly trick you, did she? But kind of?"

Rumple shook his head. "Perhaps it would be fair to say that she let me trick myself. And I don't know," he added thoughtfully, "whether that was her plan from the start or whether," he sighed, "she gave up love for power. A choice I didn't realize I was making until it was made and—"

"—regretted the moment you did," Bae nodded. "I know, Papa. But you got a second chance and you chose right that time."

Rumple smiled sadly. How many times, over the past year, had Bae reassured him? Life in the early twentieth century wasn't always easy, but he didn't regret leaping after Bae and Bae never hesitated to let him know how much he appreciated it. "That I did, son," he nodded. "As it is, I don't know whether she meant to string me along until she'd got everything she could from me and manipulated me into changing the terms of the deal we'd struck until she could twist free from it, or whether she'd meant to run off with me as she claimed and—as she'd later told me—been so close to doing it that she'd ripped out her own heart to keep herself from being swayed." Cora had told him it was the latter, but he'd been as close to death as he'd ever been at the time. Cora had believed that victory—his death and her assuming the mantle of the new Dark One—were in her grasp. Under those circumstances, she might have told him a gentle fib to ease his mind before delivering her killing stroke. Some might have been surprised that he considered her capable of that small kindness, but Rumple had watched her over the years. Cora had been a monster, but a pragmatic one. Dangerously ambitious, yes. Unscrupulous, to be sure. And cruel when necessary, but rarely unnecessarily cruel. Yes, she might well have lied to him at the end; he'd never have the opportunity to ask her now. Well. Not unless he met her in the afterlife, anyway. In which case, he'd have that opportunity in the not-so-distant future.

"So," Bae frowned, "the story in here, it's about a man who tricks a woman into a contract, and she finds a way out. And the way you say it really happened," his eyebrows shot up, "most of the details are different, but it's still about a woman finding a way out of a contract. Are the rest of the stories in here the same?" He frowned. "I mean, are they right about what happened, but not how?"

Rumple's eyebrows shot up. "That is a very astute observation," he remarked. "One I'll leave you to mull over as you read some of the other tales in here. Not all are relevant to our discussions; there might be a number that hail from other realms entirely—including this one," he added. "But I've gone ahead and marked the ones I know are," he frowned, "well, let's call them apocryphal history." At Bae's puzzled frown, Rumple smiled.

"Sometimes," he said, "history, particularly history meant to captivate the minds and hearts of schoolchildren and impart to them some value or life-lesson, includes fictional episodes in the lives of factual people. Do you recall when Mr. Banks told you about Sir Walter Raleigh lowering his cloak for Queen Elizabeth to tread upon?"

Bae nodded. "I didn't want to argue with Mr. Banks, but I know what went into making clothing for nobles back in our land. The thread had to be finer. And the weave. And the stitching! A-and nobles usually put furs or gemstones on everything they wear. A noble's cloak," Bae shook his head, "could probably have paid Pen Marmor's taxes for five years and had a bit left over. But fabric so fine… It would've been ruined in the mud, especially if someone walked on it! When Mr. Banks told me that Raleigh was later beheaded, I had to fight not to say that once he lost his mind, he probably didn't have much use for the head in the first place!"

Rumple chuckled. "Well, I'm sure you'll be relieved to know that the incident never transpired. But generations of schoolchildren likely remember him for it. And, incidentally and likely more importantly, know to list him amongst the famous personages of the Elizabethan era. Now," he gestured toward the books, "I don't pretend to know how these tales reached this realm at all. Particularly since some of these stories are several centuries old, while some of the people in them have yet to be born."

"Maybe someone travelled through time?" Bae suggested. "I mean, you did."

"That was the first time that such a spell worked, and I wasn't its caster," Rumple replied. "For what it's worth, son, I do have a theory. It doesn't fit perfectly, but it would explain a bit more than it doesn't."

"I'm listening."

Rumple shook his head. "And I'm tired. And you'll have a longer day than usual tomorrow, if you're to report for those art lessons Mr. Darling arranged."

Bae shook his head. "That was before I knew that…"

"What?" Rumple smiled. "That I was dying? All the more reason you should report for those lessons. If you've enough talent to earn your way with, you need to hone it as much as you can now, while we're both still capable of working. Once that changes, you'll like to find you can't afford the lessons."

"I-I don't know if I can afford them, yet," Bae protested. "I haven't even met the tutor or discussed prices."

"Then go tomorrow," Rumple said. "Find out what you need to. And we'll discuss it when you get home. For now," he smiled, "I'm going to bed, son. Take care you douse the candle before you do."

The books, Rumple reflected lying in bed that night, had been a good idea. Even if they'd brought on a fresh crop of questions, they'd at least allowed Rumple to take the first step. But how far could he go? If he were to tell Bae everything, that knowledge might sabotage his future. How would the lad react when first he met Emma? If he knew that he was destined to have a child with her, might he not say and do things differently than he had in the original timeline? Might those new words and actions not drive her away?

He turned over in bed. Months ago, he'd warned his younger self that knowing too much about the future might change it. He couldn't give Bae that knowledge. Not all of it, anyway. So, how much was too much?

In the darkness, a worried frown creased his face. It was good of George Darling to take an interest in Bae. The extra wages would be welcome, and he'd scarcely dared hope that his son would have an opportunity to develop his artistic talent. Rumple knew that he ought to be thankful, and he was. He was. But at the same time, he wished that the opportunity had been coming from Mr. Banks or Mr. Gargery, or even Robertson Gee. Actually, anyone who wasn't a member of the Darling family would have been preferable.

Rumple didn't know all the details. In his past, he and Bae had caught up a bit on the trip back from Neverland, but there hadn't been time to discuss everything that had transpired during the years they'd been apart. He knew that Bae had spent many of those years in Neverland, and that the Darling children had been instrumental in getting him there. He didn't know how or when it had happened—would happen. He didn't know that it had to. But if Emma was to come into his son's life, Rumple rather suspected that it would.

He rolled over again, drawing the coverlet tightly about him. Using the fairytale books to broach the subject of the future had been a bit of an awkward start, but at least he'd been able to distance himself somewhat. The way he'd been depicted had been so far off the mark, that he'd almost been able to convince himself he'd been discussing a different story entirely, before Bae had put his finger on the essential similarities—and by then, he'd already relaxed. But if he had to bring up Neverland, then he'd have to discuss his father.

And Rumple wasn't at all certain that he was ready to do that.

But if he didn't, then in all likelihood, Bae wouldn't recognize the danger until it was too late. And what if Bae had to go to Neverland, so that he would be able to meet Emma some nine-five years from now? If he did… If he did, then he'd have to be prepared. He'd have to know everything Rumple could tell him about Neverland—

—And Pan.

Somehow, Rumple didn't think that a book would be enough of an ice-breaker for that one. Especially since James Matthew Barrie wasn't going to publish the relevant text until 1911…