A/N: This chapter references S1E19 (The Return) and S3E4 (Nasty Habits).

Chapter 34

Rumple had to break off his narrative then, as a coughing fit seized him. Wide-eyed, Emma handed him a tissue and, after he took it, gripped his free hand. "Easy," she said. "I thought that would've stopped by now."

He shook his head. "Water, he managed to gasp, and it wasn't until she twisted her hand free to fill the disposable cup from the sink behind his bed that he realized he'd been squeezing it. A moment later, the cup was in his hand, and he gulped its contents greedily. "It's not the consumption," he reassured her. "I believe it's simply the effect of too much talking."

"Oh." Emma eyed the small paper cup. "Should I get you a refill?"

He handed it back to her with a grateful nod. "Perhaps, it would be better if we were to pick this up tomorrow," he suggested.

"Sure." She reached over and adjusted his blanket, smiling a bit self-consciously, when she realized that he was staring at her as she did so. "Sorry," she said at once. "I-I thought it was uneven."

"No need for apologies," he murmured. "It was." But a year ago, would she have noticed or cared? She was still watching him, a puzzled frown on her face, as though she wasn't quite certain whether she should have made the gesture. He gave her a smile he hoped was reassuring. "Have a good night, Emma."

She smiled back, still a bit worriedly. "You too."

And then, she was gone, leaving him alone with his memories. And though he turned on the television and tried to lose himself in some inane situation comedy, his mind took him back to the Enchanted Forest once more…

He knew he probably wouldn't find Pan or Bae until nightfall, but he still hoped he might get lucky. He would have given nearly anything to have had one of Bae's possessions in his grasp and the ingredients to brew a locator spell right now. Hamelin wasn't far away, and the town itself wasn't large, but it was surrounded by forest on all sides and while the Duke's highways were well-maintained, the rest of the wood was dense and dark at the best of times. The town preferred it that way; they charged a toll to all who sought to enter or leave and limiting the ways in and out ensured that all travelers would have to pass through one of the four checkpoints. It was a good system for what it was, but it also meant that Pan didn't have to search very hard to find a spot he could be sure wouldn't be disturbed by passing merchant caravans or noble coaches. If he kept out of sight of the main roads, he could be anywhere.

Rumple frowned. His younger self was going to bungle this again, unless Rumple found him first. And how—the dagger. His younger self wouldn't leave the blade behind, not at this point in time. He was carrying it. And if he was carrying it, then all Rumple had to do was follow its song and stay out of sight.

A thought brought him to the woods about Hamelin and he listened carefully. The dagger was close-by but not here. Memory flooded in on him. He hadn't come here to explore these woods straight away last time. No, he'd tracked Bae to Hamelin and, once convinced that the villagers hadn't had anything to do with his boy's disappearance, he'd sat on a rooftop waiting. And when night fell and more boys slipped out of their homes, he'd followed them. Well. Rumple meant to keep up with his searching. And if it proved futile, then so long as his younger self followed the boys, he could follow his younger self.

The hours flew by. The sun climbed steadily from east to west. The dim light that filtered in through the dense foliage faded in the lengthening shadows. Soon, he told himself, straining his mind to pick up the direction in which the dagger's song would point. And then his eyes widened and he nearly doubled over when another song reached his ears as well. His younger self didn't yet know its meaning, but he would before the night was over. Once again, he heard his father's mocking voice in his mind.

The only thing magic about this pipe is that only certain boys can hear it... boys who feel unloved, boys who feel lost. I guess that's why you can hear it, Rumple. Isn't it?

He had to stay focused. It didn't matter why he could hear the song; it mattered that he could. Because if he could hear it, then he could find Bae. And this time…

…This time was going to go just as badly as it had the first time, wasn't it? Since it was still that first time, unless—

He was going to follow that tune, yes. But not because it would lead him to Bae. Because it would also lead him to his younger self. And Rumple had to talk to him before he made the second biggest mistake of his life.

Otherwise, in less than three weeks, he'd make the biggest.

Meanwhile, the younger Rumple was already in the woods, trailing the music. He didn't trust his future self, not entirely. He didn't know for certain if the elder Rumple was manipulating him; he only knew that if he'd been playing some other game, he wouldn't confide in his pawns either. Perhaps, he thought, since he'd used the dagger to order his elder self away from Bae, his elder self had employed the piper to spirit his boy away. Perhaps his elder self was hoping that the younger would exact retribution on the piper and meanwhile, he meant to…

No, the younger Rumple realized. His elder self still shouldn't be able to approach Bae. Not with that command he'd issued. Unless the dagger hadn't worked on him. Somewhere, probably in his elder self's possession, there was another dagger with his name on it. What if his own dagger only affected him, and his elder self was pretending otherwise? If that were the case… If that were the case, then Bae wasn't safe. He had to find the Piper and make certain his elder self didn't interfere!

He inclined his ear toward the tune and tried to gauge how far off it must be. Then he willed himself there, as a precaution directing his magic to ensure he'd arrive at his destination undetected. Yes, now he could hear boyish cries of laughter close by and smell smoke from a campfire a bit to his left. He drew nearer and saw a dozen or more figures laughing, dancing, and tumbling around the fire, while the pipes played on. "Bae!" he cried out. The youths ignored him. At least, he assumed they were youths; they were masked and many wore animal furs, so he couldn't see their faces, but grown men didn't cavort so unless they were players or acrobats, and the dancing lacked the skill that such professionals ought to have.

He grabbed for one of the dancers, pulling him out of the circle. "Bae!" Not Bae; the eyes were green and the arm was gripping had a bit more muscle on it than his boy. And he was an inch or two taller, besides. He released the youth. "Bae!" he cried again.

He turned frantically toward the source of the music, desperation overriding reason as he tore off the hood of the piper's pied cloak. "Where's my son, Piper?"

And then he looked full into the face he'd only caught a fleeting glimpse of once, years before, when the Shadow had carried him out of Neverland. A face he'd never forgotten. A face that hadn't aged a day in decades.

His father gave him a cocky grin. "Is that what they're calling me?" he laughed. "We both know who I really am. Been a long time, laddie. Glad you could make the show."

The elder Rumple groaned inwardly when the piping stopped. He knew what that had to mean: his younger self had already discovered their father. Maybe his warning had been enough after all. Maybe his younger self would—

Who was he trying to fool? He knew how this would play out. Still, maybe…

He stole closer to the camp, feeling all the while as though he ought to be teleporting himself back to the tavern. He watched as his younger self turned abruptly away from their father and approached the leaping youths.

And then he stepped on a dry twig.

The sound of its snapping startled him, even though he doubted it could be heard over the crackle of the flames and the shouts of the boys.

But then Pan looked up, looked right at him. For a moment, his father appeared to be startled. Then his face relaxed in a cheerful grin and he got up and started walking toward him, appearing to have forgotten all about the younger Rumple. And Bae.

He thought he'd been prepared for it. His younger self had warned him, after all. But seeing his father's boyish face was still a shock, for all it shouldn't have been.

Pan smirked. "Surprised to see me, Rumple? I don't blame you. I'm a little surprised myself. Look who's all grown up and become the Dark One! Good for you."

He couldn't tell if his father's praise was mocking or sincere; that smirking tone could go either way. But wasn't he long past needing such praise at all? A quick interrogation told him that his younger self had been telling the truth. His father was recruiting. Well, good for him. But he'd taken no youth from Pen Marmor. Except one…

"You're here for my son!" he accused.

And unlike the elder Rumple, his father didn't deny it.

But it would take far more than a magic pipe to steal Bae away! However, when Rumple told his father as much, the youth merely grinned again.

"The only thing magic about this pipe," he said, "is that only certain boys can hear it. Boys who feel unloved. Boys who feel lost. I guess that's why you can hear it, Rumple. Isn't it?"

He was getting to him. Getting under his skin. "Don't pretend to know me," he snapped. "You don't. Not anymore!"

"Oh, I think I do," his father retorted. "Beneath all that power, you're nothing more than an unloved, lonely, lost boy." He was smiling again, as though a new inspiration had struck him. "Hey," he went on, "I like the sound of that. That's what I'll call my new group of friends: the Lost Boys. It has a nice ring, don't you think?"

Don't let him bait you, Rumple told himself furiously. He wants to get a reaction. He wants… He wants Bae. "You can call them whatever you like," he gritted. "Baelfire will not be part of it."

"Oh, he's already a part of it," Pan chortled. "The question is, What are you willing to do to get him back?"

He wasn't a lost little boy. Not anymore! And he didn't have to stand here and be mocked. He didn't have to plead. Not with his power! Was he or was he not the Dark One? "I'm going to make you regret ever asking that question."

Pan didn't even flinch. "Oh," he replied. "I understand you're upset. Most parents' worst fear is that their child will be taken away from them. But that's not yours, is it, Rumple?" he asked, his voice intent. "No. You're not afraid Baelfire will be taken from you. You're afraid he'll leave. After all, being abandoned is what you're good at, isn't it? Everyone you've ever known has left, haven't they? Like Bae's mother Milah. Not to mention your own father. Why should Baelfire be any different?"

Don't let him bait you, Rumple pleaded with himself, even as he heard his voice replying, "You're wrong." But was he? Bae hadn't been happy with him, not lately. He'd been crying out for freedom and here was Pan offering it in spades! His elder self had tried to warn him. He should have listened. Or let him take Bae—at least then he'd be certain of being reunited with him in future. At least, he thought he'd be certain, since he was going to become his elder self, wasn't he? His mind was whirling, his thoughts were spinning, he was going to lose Bae after having fought so hard, given up and taken on so much to keep him and— Pan was speaking again and Rumple pulled his focus away from his inner turmoil to listen.

"…find out, shall we? You ask Baelfire if he wants to come to Neverland with me or stay here with you. If he wants to stay, I'll leave and never return. Deal?"

"I don't have to make any deals with you," he snapped, already feeling the pull of temptation. Normally, he probably would have. It was a sure bet. Almost. Bae was certain to want to return home with him. He was nearly positive of that. And under most circumstance, he didn't turn down deals. But this one? There was a catch. There always was with his father. Always had been.

His father was smiling again, that same, open, friendly smile; the one that almost didn't let you see how sharp the teeth behind it were. "But why wouldn't you?" he asked. "If you're so sure he'll stay."

This was another one of his father's games. His father had never won a game he hadn't cheated at and Rumple rather suspected that perpetual youth hadn't changed that. The trouble was, his father always cheated. But he didn't always get away with it. And sometimes, the only way to cheat a cheater… was to cheat in turn.

One thing was certain: he was leaving this clearing with Bae, no matter what.

His father was still smiling but his eyes were now looking past him. Rumple turned to see their focus and beheld his older self's startled visage. The two of them were working together, he realized furiously. Well, they weren't about to take his son! He stormed over to the campfire. One of those masked boys was Bae and it only took him a moment to recognize him.

"Bae," he said. "Baelfire, all you all right?"

He certainly looked it. Apart from the belligerence of his stance and the annoyance of his expression. "I'm fine," he snapped. "What do you want?"

He wanted to embrace his son, apologize, and beg him to return. He was ready to throw himself at his son's feet and promise that things would be better. But not in front of Pan. Not in front of the elder self who seemed so much more confident and self-assured and would be certain to turn away from him with the same contempt Milah had all those years ago. After all, he'd hated himself when he'd been a weak, cringing creature of a man. Surely his elder self felt the same. "I know you think I don't care about you, son," he said thickly. "But I do. And I'm here to prove it."

"How?" Bae demanded.

He heard Pan in the background egging him on, but Rumple knew he had nothing to prove. Not to his father, not to his self. All he had to do was save his son. He grabbed hold of Bae.

"Papa!" Bae exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

He smiled. "I'm protecting you," he said, feeling oddly calm. An instant later, they were out of the clearing and back in Pen Marmor.

Bae broke free from him and took a furious step back. "Don't touch me!" he cried out. "Get away!"

"There seems to be a lot of that going around," Regina remarked, when Robin rubbed absently at his arm.

The archer smiled apologetically, as he reached for his glass with the hand that had been doing the rubbing. "It does smart a bit," he admitted. "But having lived through a measles outbreak when I was a lad, I know firsthand the devastation such a plague can wreak on a community. A jab of a needle and a day or two of mild discomfort is a small price to pay to avoid it." He took a sip of cider, set the glass down and rubbed his arm again. "All the same," he added, "it's a relief to be able to do this. Roland's turn is tomorrow and he's nervous enough that I'd rather not let him see the extent of this mild discomfort."

Regina smiled, but her eyes were troubled. "Maybe he should," she suggested. "Otherwise, he might feel like it's childish to be inconvenienced by it."

"He is a child," Robin protested. "He won't even be six until midsummer."

"A child in a company of adults, with a father he wants to impress," Regina pointed out. "Sometimes, maybe a parent's job is letting them know that they aren't nearly as grown-up as they're trying to act and that's okay." She sighed. "Honestly, sometimes I wish my mother had told me something like that a time or two when I was growing up, though in her case, I'll admit it was a futile wish to make. But you're…" You're a much better father than Cora was a mother and anyone who ever had occasion to meet you both can tell that. But she wasn't ready to share quite that much. "You're not her," she said, with an uncharacteristically weak smile.

Robin shook his head. "While our paths never crossed, I'm aware of her reputation," he said. "It strikes me that a woman that forceful would have set standards nearly impossible to live up to. And you're right," he murmured. "I don't want to do that with Roland. If he's still awake tonight when I return to camp, I'll tell him I'm not quite the stoic I've been pretending to be. Otherwise, it'll keep until breakfast." He sighed. "I hope he won't think too poorly of me for—"

"Being human?" Regina smiled. "I rather doubt that." She raised her own glass of cider as Robin chuckled.

The elder Rumple watched as father and son vanished in a puff of smoke and felt his heart lurch. He knew the aftermath that stunt would bring, knew it would only drive the wedge between them deeper, knew his father had engineered the whole thing, though he still wasn't entirely sure why. Dimly, he saw Pan's smirk and registered that his father was approaching, but that was an encounter he had no intention of subjecting himself to. He was already miserable enough without having that conversation.

Instead, he took himself back to the room at the tavern.

Downstairs in the common room, the crowd was getting rowdy. Someone seemed to have commenced to sing a bawdy song that had been popular even when Rumple had been a boy, waiting outside the taverns while his father had tried to swindle those within. Hearing that melody now, just after having seen his father did nothing for the rising tide of emotion swelling within him. The other customers didn't seem to be enamored of the song either. Or perhaps, they were merely critical of its performer. Jeers and raucous laughter almost-but-not-quite drowned out the singer. The loud banging of wooden tankards slamming down on bar and tables and work boots stomping on a hardwood floor served as a counterpoint. And with all that noise, Rumple realized, any noise he might make up here would be virtually undetectable.

Deliberately, he picked up the tin washbasin from its shelf and, holding it in both hands, swung it into the looking glass with a furious cry. The basin survived unscathed. The glass, however now sported a veritable spider's web of cracks. He heaved the basin again and several shards fell to the floor. Again and again he swung, until only the shallow wooden tray that had backed the glass remained.

Not satisfied, he caught up the small footstool and heaved it into the wall. After the third impact, the seat cracked in two and he was left holding one leg in each hand. He tossed them aside and flung himself down on the lumpy rag-stuffed mattress and howled his frustration.

He wasn't sure how long he lay there, but when he lifted his head, the sun hadn't yet risen, though the sky was starting to lighten. It was quiet below. And, evidently, he realized, the rooms on either side of his were unoccupied. Either that, or he'd so thoroughly intimidated their dwellers that nobody had sought out the tavern-keeper to complain about the noise earlier.

He took a breath. He had to make another attempt to head off what he knew was coming. Maybe it was important to the future, but if that future was meant to come about, then it would find another way.

He did his best to ignore the voice telling him that the future rather liked the way it had already found and was going to keep steering right on down that road. There had to be some way to stave it off!

He waved his hand once and the destruction he'd wrought upon the room reversed itself, restoring the chamber to its previous state. Then he quietly eased the door open and made his way down the stairs.

He'd paid up front and in full for the week. The burly guardsman the tavern employed to deal with rowdy customers and prevent lodgers from skulking off without settling their bills waved him on with a quick smile. Rumple returned it automatically, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He was already trying to figure out what he was going to tell his younger self.

Well, it was nearly a half-hour's walk back to the house and after the magic he'd been using in the last day, he wasn't about to teleport. The walk would do him good and he could formulate his arguments on the way.

When he'd departed the inn, he'd had every intention of warning his younger self about exactly what was going to transpire less than two weeks from now. Ten minutes on the road and he was seeing things a bit differently.

He thought back to those last days before Bae had left, willing himself to think past that one act of cowardice that had parted the two of them for over two centuries. Bae hadn't wanted to leave him, not then. He'd been trying to cure him.

"You're different now," he heard Bae's voice echo in his mind. "You see it, don't you? You hurt people all the time."

He'd rationalized it then. He'd never been able to protect himself or his loved ones before, not really. Now that he had the power to do so, he was going to, and woe betide anyone who tried to harm them. Whether they meant to or not. Bae hadn't accepted that. He'd been sure that they'd both be better off without his power. And Rumple, convinced that there was no way to do so that wouldn't involve his death, had given the lad leave to try. He'd never expected Bae to find one. Never expected Bae to acquire that bean. If he had…

If I had, I would have kept Bae locked in the house before I'd have given him the chance to go running to the fairies. I'd have told him it was for his protection and after that encounter with Beowulf's man, I might even have believed it. But it wouldn't be for his protection nearly as much as it would be for mine.

Would that have been so terrible? The hut was small, yes, but a castle wouldn't be. If Bae could have the run of a castle, his confinement wouldn't chafe nearly as much.

But it would chafe. The man I was then wouldn't see that. The man I am now... The man he was now had spent too much time in captivity to fool himself that the size of the cell would matter in any way that meant anything. Even when Zelena hadn't kept him in that cage, knowing that she held his dagger and no matter how far away he got, one tug on his tether and he'd be kneeling at her feet had eaten away at him day by day and hour by hour. He'd thought of freedom constantly, always alert for the chance that he might be able to somehow wrest himself loose of her.

Bae loved him. But how long would that love last if he were imprisoned, even if the prison was a palace?

A new scenario occurred to him. Bae, struggling to find some way out, perhaps out of desperation trying to get his hands on the dagger to force his father to let him go free. Perhaps not giving back the dagger, out of fear that the moment he did, he'd be shut up again. Bae might not remember having commanded him before. And he might not do it again. But if someone else were to get the dagger from Bae, someone who knew what it could do…

And if Bae tried to get the dagger and I stopped him? Or if he did manage to get it and I got it back? When I stopped the Ogre War, I wasn't yet as… corrupted by power as I'd become by this point. If I came to see Bae as a threat… What would I do? How far would I go? If I thought he was trying to take my power, would I hurt him?

He didn't like the places his imagination was going to. He tried to focus on events as they'd actually occurred, not as they could have. But in his mind's eye, he saw himself ripping out Bae's heart, using it to force his son to obey, keep him from ever leaving…

Crush it? I don't want to believe I'd ever sink that low, but if I truly believed that he was threatening my power, is it possible that I could?

Never, he told himself firmly. It would never come to that. But in his heart of hearts, he wasn't anywhere near as certain. The more he used his power, the Darker his heart would grow and the further he'd get from the good man he'd once been. Could he truthfully say he'd never reach a point where he'd turn on his boy?

If he couldn't, then he needed to be very careful about what he told his younger self now. Because if there was the slightest possibility that his worst fear might be justified, then Bae had to get that bean. For both their sakes.

His younger self was waiting on a new chair just outside the hut's door. "I was wondering whether you'd be able to show your face here," he snapped by way of greeting. "But I suppose that clears that up."

For a moment, Rumple wasn't sure what his younger self meant, but then he realized. Bae was inside the house. Less than twenty yards away. He shrugged. "You made it clear you didn't want me about. I thought it better not to press the issue."

"So the dagger doesn't control you," he said, taking out the blade.

Rumple sighed. "You've been struggling with self-control since you took a wild stab in the night, and at the moment, you've yet to achieve it, dearie," he drawled, mentally preparing to teleport if it seemed like his younger self might want to attempt another stab.

His younger self's lip curled back, baring yellowed, uneven teeth. "You just keep away from me and Bae!" he snapped. "I know what I saw tonight!"

"And what was that?" Rumple asked, fighting down his irritation and using a faint sneer to mask it. Here he was trying to warn him about what the future likely held, and this… imbecile… still thought he was out to spirit Bae away. If his younger self would only listen half a moment, he'd see that the last thing the elder Rumple wanted to do was separate the two of them!

"Our father wasn't acting alone, was he? The two of you were colluding to get my boy away from me!"

The elder Rumple couldn't quite suppress a startled laugh. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, don't think you can pull the golden straw over my eyes. This is your last warning. You leave us alone or…" A ball of fire appeared in the palm of his hand. "I don't know if the dagger can kill you, but I think I know what sort of spells might make you wish it would."

Rumple swallowed. And then he felt his jaw set, as he straightened his shoulders and looked at the flaming globe. With a thought, a jet of water shot forth from his fingertip, snuffing out the fireball with a hiss. "And now," he said quietly, "this is my last warning to you. Be very careful what deals you make, dearie. And be even more careful you keep them. Because the night you break your first will be the night your worst fears will be realized."

He was actually rather proud of his phrasing. He'd worked it out on the way. It was the most explicit warning he thought he could provide that wouldn't make Bae more a prisoner than he already was. By no means was he looking forward to what came next. And he did hope that his younger self would understand when he heard Bae's desperate cry—the same cry he'd heard in quiet moments of introspection, echoing down through the years, while he'd struggled to perfect the Dark Curse.

You coward! You promised! Don't break our deal!

If his younger self heeded that warning…

No Dark Curse. No Evil Queen, no Snow White and Prince Charming, no Emma, no Henry, no—

Well, actually, come to think of it, Belle probably would be born in some two hundred years. And if his younger self went through the portal with Bae, Rumple imagined that he would likely still be here when she was. At the right time, perhaps they could…

If his younger self went through the portal with Bae.

Right now, however, that younger self was still glowering at him. "I don't break deals, dearie. And thanks to this," he brandished the dagger anew, "I don't have to be afraid of anything."

"Almost anything," Rumple replied sadly.

"Get off my land. And stay away from Bae!"

Rumple swallowed hard, but he nodded and started back toward the tavern. He'd done as much as he felt comfortable doing and he hoped it might be enough. One way or another, though, Bae needed to be safe. And Rumple no longer believed that the lad could be if he were to remain with his younger self in this realm. The Darkness was seeping in and his younger self wasn't even trying to control it. In the original timeline, it had taken Bae's leaving to shock him back to some semblance of self-discipline. If his younger self didn't heed the warning Rumple had just delivered, he'd have to hope that history would play out again as it had then.

Because this time, Bae wasn't going to pass through that portal alone. If the younger Rumple didn't accompany him…

Then the elder one would!