A/N: Some dialogue lifted/tweaked from S2E21: Second Star to the Right.

Chapter 40

"What's going on?" Bae asked as Wendy tugged him along.

"Shh!" she enjoined. "Don't let Mother or Father hear."

Bae stopped short and Wendy, startled, fell back into him. He barely registered it. "I'm serious, Wendy," he said. "What are we hiding from your parents? What is it you want to show me? What—?"

"If he's going to be this tiresome about it, perhaps it's best he goes home, after all," John drawled from the top of the stairs. "It might not even come tonight."

"What might not come?" Bae asked, whispering now, but fiercely.

Wendy, still leaning into him, turned to face him and clapped her free hand daringly to his shoulder. "A few weeks ago," she said, "right about the time the winter rains set in, this… shadow—it came to the window. Only it's not attached to a body!" she exclaimed. Then she clapped a hand to her mouth, realizing her voice had risen in a squeal and looked about guiltily, but her parents didn't appear to have heard. "Baelfire, it can do so many wonderful things, like change its shape and fly and travel between worlds. And do you know why? Because it has magic!"

Bae felt his blood run cold. Magic? There wasn't supposed to be any magic here! They'd come to this place to escape it! And then he felt an almost wild hope surging in him. But what if magic could cure Papa? He didn't know what to do. Papa might, but if he found out that there was magic in this place, then what if he—

Bae squelched that thought. Papa had never once said he missed being the Dark One. He wouldn't—

But what if he did? He'd been desperate enough to become the Dark One to keep his son from being drafted and end the Ogres War. What if he was desperate enough to use magic to save his life?

And was that a bad thing?

It might not be. But…

"Wendy," he said urgently, "listen to me. Magic is dangerous. It always comes with a price."

"Oh, don't be silly," the girl scoffed.

"I mean it," Bae said. "Whatever you do, promise me you'll never open that window again. Promise me you won't talk to this shadow."

"I'm not going to promise anything of the kind," Wendy announced. "And you needn't be so horrid about things. Perhaps you'd better go home after all," she added. "It's getting late and John and I had best withdraw."

"Wendy," Bae said, grasping her sleeve, even as she released him. "Wendy, please, at least promise me you won't open the window tonight."

"What's so special about tonight?" John demanded.

"I want to talk to someone about this," Bae hedged. "Someone I trust who knows more about this than I do. Wendy, please."

Wendy sighed. "Oh, very well," she relented. "We've probably missed it by now anyway."

"Gracious," a new voice cut in. "Master Baelfire, are you still here?"

Bae turned to behold Liza approaching, her maid's black dress and apron as immaculate as always. "Only just," he said. "Wendy was showing me out."

"It's past the young miss's bedtime," Liza remarked. She nodded sternly to the children, but there was a twinkle in her eye as she said, "Upstairs, the both of you." To Bae, she added, "I'll see you to the door myself."

Bae had been debating whether to go up to the nursery after all, just to make certain that no 'shadow' was coming, but Liza's statement settled the issue. Belatedly, he remembered that he wasn't coming back here again until Monday, five days from now, and he'd only asked Wendy to keep away from the shadow this one night. But even wringing that concession had been like pulling teeth and he couldn't hope to prevail further, not with Liza here listening. He wondered whether he oughtn't to try anyway; perhaps the maid might be sufficiently alarmed to take precautions. No, he realized. Liza would think they were playing some silly game and take nothing seriously. So he sighed and said only, "Goodnight, Wendy. John."

With their soft farewells in his ears, he let Liza show him out. Once on the Darlings' front door step, he hurried off into the night. He had to talk to Papa.

"This looks good," Whale informed him cheerfully. "I mean, you're not quite back to where you were, but you're getting there."

Rumple smiled. "So, I can hope for a release in the not-so-distant future, then?" he asked.

Whale hesitated. "Level with me," he said, his smile vanishing. "You were on bed rest for a number of weeks before you started getting around again. Normally, that necessitates physical therapy to restore muscle function—"

"I was under the impression that those… jumping exercises your overly-chipper colleague pressed on me were to compensate for that," Rumple interrupted testily. Really, one might have been forgiven for thinking that leaping about in his condition would extend his bed-rest, particularly if he were to overtax his bad ankle, but the therapist had modified the program to compensate for his disability. "And those silly stretches."

"Not so silly, since they seem to be working," Whale pointed out. "But you seem to be needing your cane quite a bit more than you did a year ago, which would imply that you'll still need to continue with them." He hesitated. "That doesn't mean, however, that you need to continue them as an in-patient."

Rumple felt a faint stirring of hope.

"You could use magic, too," Whale continued. "Now that you're off the Tavronius serum. However, if you should ever find yourself over the town line, or if anything were to happen to neutralize magic here—"

Rumple winced. "I'd be a worse cripple than I was under the curse," he supplied.

"I've never seen anything like that serum before," Whale admitted. "I didn't know if it was safe to keep you on it indefinitely, so we started weaning you off it as soon as we knew that the TB treatment was working properly. At this point, now that your symptoms have cleared up, while you still need to complete the treatment, there's no reason to suppress your magic. But as for your muscle strength…"

"I didn't use the cane in Neverland," Rumple said softly. "Magic healed my ankle there, or at least, it," he smiled, "masked the injury. And when I returned, I continued using magic for that purpose. Spending over two years in Edwardian England was… quite the adjustment. Well. My ankle may be a lost cause, but as for the rest of it?" He shook his head, but he was smiling. "What must I do to regain that strength?"

"I believe Silvermist has a program drawn up," Whale replied, naming the fairy who'd assigned him the initial exercises. "Or will have by the time I have her stop by this afternoon. If she's satisfied you're able to complete the exercises on your own," he smiled back, "I think we can probably discharge you at the end of the week."

Rumple raised an eyebrow. "And by 'on my own', I take it you mean…"

"I mean without medical supervision," Whale said. "If you want to use magic as a crutch now, you run the risk of needing to do it on an ongoing basis down the road." He shrugged. "I'm not going to stop you from cheating, but you'll only end up cheating yourself in the long run."

"Point taken. Well. I suppose I'd best await the water sprite then," he said, with just a hint of his old sarcasm.

Whale grinned.

Rumple was in the scullery downing a cup of tea that Emmy had cheerfully provided him when Bae slipped in. He smiled a greeting, but it froze almost at once when he saw the expression on his son's face.

"Good," Bae said quickly. "I was hoping you'd still be awake. I have to talk to you about…" His voice trailed off when he realized his father wasn't alone in the scullery. "I have to talk to you," he repeated.

Rumple locked his eyes on Bae's and his smile dropped away entirely. "Well, then," he said, wondering what had so unnerved his son, "I suppose we'd best repair upstairs. Might I finish this first?" he asked, lifting his cup.

Bae nodded. "But I really do have to talk to you." He blinked as Emmy set a steaming mug down before him and smiled over his shoulder at her. "Thanks." Then he looked down at the cup and realized it wasn't tea. "What is it?"

The kitchen maid beamed. "Horlicks, Master Baelfire," she said. "Warming and it steadies the nerves."

Rumple sent a faint nod of approval in Emmy's direction as well. Alcohol and laudanum seemed to be common enough remedies in this time and place that shunning them brought odd looks. It had been much the same in the land of his birth. But three decades in Maine a century hence had given Rumple an attitude toward juvenile drinking that was, perhaps, ahead of his time. Ahead of this time, too, at any rate. Horlicks, though, was only hot milk with malt and barley. "Drink up, son," he encouraged. "And then, you can tell me what has you in such a state."

"Home?" Belle repeated, clasping Rumple's hands in her own. "That's wonderful!" Her smile dimmed somewhat as she continued, "I've kept the shop in good order, but as for your house, I imagine it's in need of a good cleaning after all these weeks. Is it… Did you, uh, protect it?"

Rumple sighed. "I'm afraid so. During the curse I suffered one burglary. As soon as I brought magic here, I made use of some security that's a bit more effective than deadbolt locks and alarms." He frowned. "Not that I'd advise you to experiment; should you run afoul of the spells I employed, you'd find yourself frozen where you stood until I happened by to release you, and seeing as it will be at least another week until I'm likely to be discharged, I imagine you'd find the experience," he gave her an apologetic smile, "somewhat distressing and not a little humiliating. However, it's just barely possible that those spells were undone when," he hesitated for just a moment, "well, when I died, I suppose, but weren't raised anew upon my resurrection."

Belle blinked. "You mean, you aren't—" She caught herself. "No, of course you aren't sure. Magic can't bring back the dead, or at least not usually, so until now the question's never… come up."

"Correct." He smiled. "I suppose it's a good job I was in such a hurry to stop Pan that I didn't think to raise the protections on the shop when I tore off into the street. Nor could I have," he recalled a moment later, "wearing the cuff as I was. At least you had access to its contents to aid you against the witch."

"For the small good it did me," Belle sighed. "Really, stopping her was all Emma and Regina."

"Ah, well," Rumple sighed, still smiling. "At least, it helped you to piece together what had happened after Bae brought me back. Well," he said again, taking another breath, "enough of the past. Once I'm free to return home, I can't imagine I'll care much how dusty the place might be. I must admit I'm looking forward to a night spent in my own bed again."

"Um, you know," Belle said, smiling in turn, "that house may be big, but it's quite a bit smaller than your castle was and I somehow managed to keep that clean and free of dust. If you need some help…"

"I will," Rumple said. He seemed to realize that he was still holding her hands, though he didn't release them. "But I've managed without a housekeeper here and I imagine I could continue to do so easily enough. However…" His breath seemed to catch and his tongue was suddenly heavy. "I…" Why was it so hard to get the words out?

"Rumple?" She started to withdraw her hands. "Are you all right? I'll call a nurse—"

"No!" he exclaimed, tightening his grip. Then, more softly, "No. Belle, I… I will need you. I do. But not as my servant. Not now."

"I'm not suggesting that," Belle retorted. "I just want to help."

"I know! I know…" And the words he wanted to speak still wouldn't come, as much as he tried to ask them. Instead, he asked a different question. "But why?"

Disbelief flared in Belle's blue eyes. "I love you," she said. "Don't you know that by now?"

"I do," Rumple assured her. "I do. And," and suddenly he had his words back again. "And because I return those feelings, I don't want you for a servant or a housekeeper or a fr—" He stopped. Of course, he wanted her for a friend, but that wasn't all she was to him. "I want you for my wife," he blurted out. Then his eyes widened and he looked away, but his grip on her hands didn't loosen. "I-if you'll have me, that is," he added, nearly whispering.

"Of course I will," Belle said, and when Rumple dared to look at her, he saw tears pooling in her eyes, even as her lips curved in a tremulous smile. He released her hands, she gathered him up in her arms, and as he rested his head on her shoulder, she whispered the words again. "Of course I will."

Upstairs Rumple heard his son out in silence and did his best to hide his turmoil. His thoughts, however, were in a flurry. He knew that if Henry was to exist, Bae needed to become acquainted with Emma Swan some ninety years from now, and decidedly not as a centenarian. Moreover, he also knew that in this time and place, there was no cure for the condition that was overtaking him. He was hard-put to judge whether Bae's best chance would be found alone in London with the First World War less than a decade away or in Neverland with his grandfather.

In the original timeline, Bae had gone to Neverland. They'd never gotten around to discussing it much in the short while they'd had together, but from the little Bae had told him, Rumple gathered that his time there had not been pleasant. But if he didn't go there, then there would be no Henry. And if there was no Henry, then what of the Seer's prophecy about how his younger self would find Bae? Or would the seer still deliver that same prophecy now?

His heart began to pound. Suppose that he'd changed matters so much that even the Dark Curse wouldn't help his younger self reach Bae? If Storybrooke was irrevocably lost… Well, he didn't really care much for most of the people in it, but he knew them and the idea that he might have erased the lot of them from existence bothered him more than he'd thought. More to the point, if the seer never told him he'd find Bae, he'd never bother crafting the curse. There would be no Storybrooke. There would probably be no Cora; he'd have no reason to help her avoid execution. And even if he did, he'd never need to train Regina.

And Zelena would never seek to supplant her as my pupil, probably never get the idea to travel back in time and remove her sister from existence. And if she never creates the time portal, then how am I to get back to my past and follow Bae here?

He was getting a headache that had nothing to do with the illness currently consuming him. Had his actions changed the past, or merely created an alternative timeline running parallel to the one he knew so well? And was Bae fated to spend years of his life in Neverland, or might that destiny be averted?

"Papa?" Bae asked, and Rumple blinked, realizing that his son was waving his hand before his eyes.

"Sorry, Son," he smiled. "I was," he took a breath, coughed into his handkerchief—an unsanitary article by future standards, but it was a bit early for disposable tissues here, "I was thinking," he admitted. "And the truth of the matter is that one way or another, I fear you've hard times ahead of you."

"Papa?"

Rumple closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, his gaze was resigned. "I've tried to protect you as much as I could," he said softly. "Even when I was at my worst, I tried, though I know I went about it all wrong. Unfortunately," he said sadly, "the time is fast approaching when I won't be here to do that. I-I know something of how your future unfolded in the time I came from. I can but speculate on how it might unfold should you choose to resist that destiny."

"I don't understand."

Rumple shook his head. "A long time ago," he said, "you asked how it would be possible that we could be reunited, my younger self and you, after a century or more had passed. I didn't give you a full answer then. I couldn't. When you asked me, I wasn't sure I had the words in me to tell you about my father. But since I have done," he continued with a faint smile, "I believe I did mention that Neverland was a realm in which, however much time one spends there, one doesn't age a day. Well, in the past, in my past, at least, it seems that you spent quite some time there. After you'd spent a bit of time here…"

Bae was shaking his head as his father finished. "So, you're saying that this shadow Wendy's talking about is the same one that your father ordered to take you out of Neverland."

"I think so," Rumple said. "Obviously, I haven't met the creature here, but there aren't many beings that can cross realms. In particular, there aren't many beings that are able to travel from a magical realm to a non-magical. My quest to follow you led me down many avenues from beans to mermaids, and during my explorations, I learned that the Shadow of Neverland is one of the few creatures that can cross through. However, that Shadow is the only one of its kind and since it seemed to be allied with my father," he exhaled, "I didn't want to confront it and I wouldn't have known what to offer it or how to command it if I had." He frowned. "Had I had an inkling that you were in Neverland at any time, I would have tried going there for you, son. Truly. But so far as I knew, you were here."

"It's okay," Bae said. "But what does the Shadow want here?"

"Wendy didn't tell you?"

Bae shook his head. "She seems to think it's just there to visit them. The way she was talking, it was doing tricks like a stage magician or something."

"And back in our land, you thought the piper was just there to play a cheery tune," Rumple remarked.

"Uh… not exactly," Bae mumbled. He wasn't sure he remembered what he'd been thinking that night, but even then, he thought he'd known that there was more to the music than a few hours of fun and games.

"When I spoke to him that night," Rumple said slowly, "he told me he was lonely. He was assembling a band of… playmates to take back with him. I daresay he may still be on the lookout for new recruits."

"Yes," Bae said, "but then he was looking for… You told me his music could only be heard by boys who felt, well, lonely and unloved. The Darling children aren't like that."

Rumple sighed. "That criterion may no longer matter to him. Or he may have merely told the Shadow to find him likely candidates and the creature now travels here and flits about until he finds a nursery with an open window."

"What do I do?"

Rumple shook his head. "I can't answer that for you, son. I know that in my past, you went to Neverland. If there is to be a future in which I'm able to go back in time to tell you this, you may have to. But I don't know when or how it happens. And I don't know if it must. I just…" His shoulders slumped and his voice dropped to a whisper, "…don't know."

"And you're certain he spends time with them," Pan stated, not really asking a question.

"He was in the house this evening," the Shadow confirmed. "But the girl was unable to persuade him to follow her to the nursery. I could have taken him in the street, but had he resisted, it's possible we might have been spotted."

"Yes," Pan sighed. "Adults may, in general, pay little mind to the sky and stars, but they can, sadly, frequently see what's happening just in front of their noses. Well, no matter. Keep visiting the house, insinuate yourself with the children, and…" His voice trailed off and a sudden smile lit his face.

"And?" the Shadow prompted.

"You know, I know Baelfire," Pan said still smiling. "I took his measure when last our paths crossed. He's a cautious one, yes, but he's got courage and," he sighed with mock sorrow, "a sense of honor. Quite the gallant, actually, or at least he thought he might be, if someone would give him the chance." His grin broadened. "Perhaps we should. Do you know when he'll be next at that darling house?"

"He's there every Wednesday evening," the Shadow confirmed. "Though the girl might have scared him off with her talk of me."

"Oh, she might have scared him," Pan chuckled, "but somehow, I don't think he's about to abandon a damsel in distress. So," he added, with a nasty gleam in his eye, "distress her."