Chapter 42

Rumple's relief drained away in an instant. "You mean to go back there," he guessed.

"I have to, Papa," Bae gulped, still hugging him. "I can't let it take her brother! I-I mean," he joked weakly, "John might be a bit of a prig and Michael throws his vegetables to the dog, but that's no reason for them to be taken!"

Rumple didn't reply for a long moment. Then, softly, he asked, "But then why would the Shadow have allowed the girl to go with him in the first place, only to send her back? Could it not tell the difference?"

"I…" Bae looked up at him. "I don't know, Papa."

You don't, son, Rumple thought. But I suspect I do.

Aloud, he said, "I wonder whether you haven't been the target all along."

"Papa?"

"My father," Rumple said heavily, "does not like to lose. Even when he was a man, he always looked for a way to rig his games and when he was found out?" He winced. "He knew he could count on me to plead for mercy from those who would have taught him the folly of cheating them." He'd hated being drawn into those machinations, even as a child of seven. And though he didn't like admitting it, had he and his father not parted ways, then he'd likely have found himself in the same situation as a young cutpurse named Jiminy—tied to a life he loathed but lacking the fortitude to quit it on his own. "I think," he said, "it would be better if you avoided that house for the time being."

"Let the Shadow take one of the boys?" Bae gaped.

"I doubt it will come to that. If it's you he wants…"

"And if it isn't? Papa, I can't take that chance. I have to save them. I have to! Is there nothing I can do?"

"In this land?" Rumple's voice was bleak. "With magic, son, there would be a way. But without it—" His eyes opened wide. "Flame."

"Papa?"

"Flame and something like a lantern to contain it. Well. You used a coconut, I think," he added.

"I… what?"

"Or you will, at any rate," Rumple said quickly, "One day. The shadow is drawn to flame. If you have it in a lantern or box, something that can be sealed shut, the creature will be trapped inside."

Bae lifted his head smiling for the first time. "That's it, Papa!" he exclaimed. "I'll go there tomorrow night—uh, tonight—and I'll trap the shadow!"

Rumple nodded. "Just be careful, son. And," he looked out the window, "I'm not certain there's any point in going to bed now, with dawn so near."

"Oh," Bae said, "uh… Mr. Darling said I could have tomorrow off. Because I was there so late. Without pay, but I don't care about that." He yawned.

Rumple patted his shoulder. "Well," he said, turning aside to cough into his handkerchief, "he didn't extend me that courtesy."

"Are you sure you can…?"

Rumple forced himself to smile. "My condition will put an end to my employability soon enough, I fear. For now, though, I'm still capable. And there's no reason for us both to lose a day's pay. Rest up, son. You've a hard night awaiting you."

"Mr. Cassidy?"

Rumple looked up from his typewriter and immediately rose to his feet. He'd never spoken to any of the bank's founding partners, but he knew his visitor by sight. "Mr. Mousely," he said at once. For an instant, he had a sense of déjà vu, as though he'd met the man before, long ago. An image flashed in his mind of another old man with wild, unkempt hair and beard, but the same piercing, penetrating eyes that seemed to shift from brown to gray and maintained a perpetual glint of good humor.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," the elderly partner replied. "I came in to see how you were getting on. I've been informed you had some excitement last night."

Rumple blinked. He didn't believe that George Darling was one to confide in one so highly-placed, but if he hadn't, then how…? He fell back on an old evasiveness he'd seldom had occasion to use in recent times. "Have you?" he inquired politely.

"Your son, then," Mousely murmured. "A bad business all around, that. I understand he's been permitted today off?"

Rumple had an urge to cough, but he suppressed it, nodding instead.

The executive frowned. "You shouldn't be here, you know," he said flatly. And then, almost too quickly, he added, "Not after the events of last night. I daresay you were up till all hours awaiting your son's return. You must be exhausted."

"I…" The cough broke free, but Rumple managed to muffle the worst of it in his handkerchief.

"Yawning," Mousely informed him firmly, "is not in keeping with the image of this establishment. Go home, Cassidy, on my authority. Your son needs you more than we do. Come back when you're both well-rested." And there was that twinkle in his eye again.

Rumple bobbed his head and smiled warily. "If you're quite certain, sir?" he ventured. And when Mousely nodded with an answering smile, Rumple's wariness shifted to relief. "Very good, sir. A-and I do thank you for it."

After he left, Mr. Mousely's smile dropped. "I would I could give you longer," he murmured to the empty room. "But destiny can only be put off for so long and its time is very nearly at hand. This day is all I can give you, so make the most of it, Rumpelstiltskin."

Bae was drowsing, but he awoke at once when Rumple opened the door. "Papa?" he asked.

Rumple was leaning heavily on the door-frame, his breath labored. "I was released early," he gasped. "I-I…"

Bae sat bolt upright. "You're always home before I am," he said slowly. "Are you… always this…?"

Rumple didn't answer at once. Only when he staggered inside and sat down did he reluctantly admit, "It's been happening more often of late."

"Papa," Bae said, "you need to see a doctor."

Rumple sighed. "In this time and this place, that will do nothing but cost money we don't have for treatments that won't help. Believe me, son, if I thought a doctor would do me any good here, I'd have consulted one long ago." He shook his head sadly. "Unfortunately, we're about a half-century too early."

Bae closed his eyes and drew a shuddering breath. "Papa…"

Rumple licked his dry lips. "Bae, must you go back tonight?"

Bae winced. "I don't want to leave you alone, but I can't let the Shadow take John or Michael either."

Rumple shook his head again. "What would you say," he said slowly, "if I were to tell you that regardless of your actions, all three of those children will end up in Neverland? Pan will release the boys at some point," he went on, steeling himself to keep talking despite the mounting horror in his son's eyes, "allowing them to grow up here so that they can do his dirty work in this realm, while he keeps the girl as hostage for their compliance."

"And me?" Bae asked, almost dreading the answer.

"Well," Rumple began, but broke off almost at once in a coughing fit. Bae hurried over and patted his back until it passed, then quickly filled a clay cup from the ewer of water on the table and handed it to him. Rumple gulped it gratefully. "Well," Rumple repeated, once he'd caught his breath, "in the original timeline, you went to Neverland as well at some point, though you never got around to telling me whether it was before or after the Darling children were taken. Now?" He shook his head. "I don't know anymore. I can tell you," he smiled thinly, "that I'd prefer you stay here with me for the time remaining. It won't be long now and, if it is Fate's design that you pass the next few decades in that realm, well, I imagine it will arrange for you to go there in the end." Maybe that was how it was supposed to happen, Rumple thought. The Shadow would take the children, perhaps all at once, perhaps one by one. And in the end, Bae would find a way to follow, hoping to free them but counting himself lucky to escape that place alone at last. But that end didn't have to come immediately.

Bae sat down beside his father. "You might be right," he said slowly. "And even if you're not, I-I can't leave you like this," he added, covering Rumple's hand with his own.

Rumple brought his free hand down over Bae's sandwiching it. "Thank you, son," he murmured. "I-I know this doesn't sit well with you, not really. If the truth be told, I can't say I'm not sorry for the fate that awaits those three, but I don't believe that there's anything you or I can do to prevent it."

"Maybe there is," Bae said. "If I'm going to go to Neverland at some point, maybe I can change things so when I get free, I take Wendy and the boys with me. Please, Papa," Bae took another breath, "tell me more. About Neverland… Pan… the Shadow… that pirate. I need to know everything."

Rumple nodded at once. "Of course, Bae," he said, squeezing his son's hand. He wouldn't lose Bae to that fiend tonight. For that boon, he was ready to do anything. "Of course." He smiled apologetically. "But you might refill that ewer and perhaps, if you could trouble Emmy for some tea, I think I could do with a cup."

"So, why does he hate you so much?" Bae asked. "I don't remember any pirates in Pen Marmor after you became the Dark One, so…"

Rumple shook his head. "He was there once, long ago," he admitted, trying to keep his tone even. "You weren't even four years old at the time. He…" Rumple took a breath. "I've never knowingly lied to you, son."

"Papa?"

Rumple licked his lips. "When you asked me whether your mother was dead, I told you she was because that was what I believed. I knew she'd been carried off by pirates. I," his expression was bleak, "I imagine you're old enough now to imagine the use I had reason to believe they'd put her to."

A sick look washed over Bae's face. "Yes."

"I did try to reason with the captain," Rumple said. "But he wanted me to duel him for her. He was a seasoned warrior, while I…" He winced. "I'd never handled a sword since the day I came back from the front and even before then, I'd never used one on anything but a straw-stuffed training dummy. There was my ankle, and the seer's prophecy ringing in my head that my actions on the battlefield would cause you to grow up fatherless. I couldn't let that happen." He winced. "Or perhaps," he admitted, "I simply didn't wish to die."

Bae patted his hand. "I'm not sorry for that, Papa," he said fiercely. Then he frowned. "That would explain why you'd hate him, but why would he hate you?"

Rumple sighed. "Well, as you know, right now, my younger self is still trying to find a way to follow you here. Although in the timeline I lived, it will take him nearly a century to reach this realm and close to three decades after that before he finds you, he'll still try to find a means of coming here sooner. And when he learns that a bean like the one that brought us here has come into the possession of that same pirate, well, as you might expect, he seeks him out hoping to finally have that duel. Except…"

Bae waited and after a moment, Papa continued.

"Well, as it turns out, the pirate captain may have carried off your mother, but it was no abduction. She wanted to be with him."

Bae's astonishment gave way to resignation after a moment. "I know I was pretty young when she left," he admitted. "I don't remember very much about her. Only, well, I know she liked to go to the tavern and she'd come home smelling of strong drink. And I remember she was always so angry at you, but it was worse when she'd been at the tavern."

"Women don't like being married to cowards," Rumple reminded him with equal parts sorrow and bitterness. He sighed. "When she revealed herself, she offered to exchange the bean for her life and that of the pirate captain she now loved. My younger self," he winced. "Well, you hadn't been gone for more than a few months at that point and he didn't have nearly the control over his temper that he'd acquire in the years to come. She'd abandoned her family and never looked back and when my younger self asked her reason, she claimed she'd never loved him." He shook his head. "If my younger self was capable of turning a peddler he'd never met before into a snail for skinning your knee, I think you can guess what came next."

Bae closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath. "He killed her."

"And took the pirate's hand, believing it held the bean. There is a reason he uses the name 'Hook' now."

Bae nodded shakily.

And then his eyes opened and his eyebrows drew together in a troubled frown. "I don't think I ever realized," he said slowly. "I mean, I always think of you like two different people. First you were 'Uncle Gilitrutt', and then after we came here, you've been 'Papa', but I've always thought of you as… separate from… You always talk about your younger self like he's a completely different person. But he's not, is he?" Bae was still frowning, but beneath those brows, Rumple saw mounting horror in his son's eyes. "You're him. And he's you." He took another breath and when he spoke again, there was a rasp in his voice that Rumple hadn't heard—and wouldn't hear—before or until the day he would find Bae in Manhattan in 2012. "Did you kill my mother?"

"Bae," Rumple whispered.

"You did, didn't you?"

"Bae, please, I—"

Bae pushed back his chair from the table and leaped to his feet. "You killed Mama."

"I…" Bae's cold fury struck him like a physical blow, knocking his words clear out of his head.

"I have to get out of here," Bae muttered, nearly running for the door. Rumple half-rose to pursue him, but a new fit of coughing staggered him and by the time he'd recovered, Bae was gone. He still hurried downstairs as swiftly as he could manage, hoping that Bae hadn't gone far. Perhaps, he was just outside on the stoop.

But a frantic look out the front door confirmed the bitter truth.

Bae was gone.

Bae wasn't sure where he was going, but he had to get out of the room, out on the street, away from the house, away from Papa. His father had murdered his mother. Had murdered, not 'would murder'. It had already happened. His father had murdered his mother. He was living with a—

But he'd always known he'd been living with a murderer, hadn't he? Practically the first thing Papa had done when he'd become the Dark One had been murder. First Hordor—no, first the previous Dark One, then Hordor. And then the Ogres and Beowulf and his soldiers, and afterwards anyone else whom he thought might threaten him. But Mama…

But Mama had left years ago and let Papa believe her dead while she'd adventured with another man. Hadn't she known how much he and Papa would miss her? That didn't justify killing her, he thought furiously.

Papa had looked so small when he'd left, so sick, so… beaten.

He'd done that to him.

Well, Papa deserved it! After…

After telling him the truth, knowing how it would look. After coming here with him to a realm where he couldn't do the work he'd always done, a land where he had no magic to fall back upon…

…A land where he was dying.

Papa was dying and Bae had walked out on him.

Papa had murdered Mama and Bae couldn't be around him.

How the hell was it possible to feel so many different ways at the same time? He loved Papa, he hated Papa, he was scared and worried about Papa's health, he didn't want to have anything further to do with Papa, he wanted to scream at him, he wanted to hug him, he wanted… He wanted to talk to someone else about this, but who could he tell? Who would believe him?

There was only one person here besides Papa who knew he came from a land with magic and believed what he'd told her of it so far. She was the only person who had a chance of believing the rest.

And if he went there now, he might just be her brothers' best chance at escaping the Shadow.

He turned right on Hackney Road, quickening his pace as he headed toward Bloomsbury.

"I'm so sorry, Master Baelfire," Liza said firmly, "but after the excitement last night, Mr. Darling has left instructions that you're not to come in."

Bae blinked. "I didn't have anything to do with any of that," he protested, still trying to move past the servant, who stepped forward to block his path.

"That's as may be," she told him, "but the master's instructions are clear. The children are still quite upset, you understand. They're not to see anyone at the moment."

"But—"

"Good day, Master Baelfire," Liza said, shutting the door firmly in his face.

Bae lifted his hand to knock once more, but lowered it almost at once, realizing that it would do no good. Then he spied the ladder secured to the side of the house to allow access for chimney sweeps, window cleaners, and other such tradesmen. He looked up. The roof seemed a lot higher to him now than it had on previous visits. But thanks to the events of last night, and the story that Mr. Darling and the police had concocted from his account of them, he knew two things: the ladder went up just past the sitting room next to the nursery. And those third-story window ledges were quite wide enough to stand on.

He swallowed for a moment. If he wasn't as agile as he thought he was, a fall from that height would probably kill him. But he'd always been good at climbing trees, and he really needed to talk to Wendy.

He wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers gripped the sides of the ladder, and set his foot on the first rung.

Emma winced when she saw Gold's welcoming smile immediately tighten and she sighed. "You've been talking to Belle."

Rumple snorted. "Well, she is my fiancée. Although I understand that distresses you," he added coldly.

Emma shook her head. "Not exactly. I… Actually, I'm happy for both of you. But this feels so… I mean, after everything you've been through, you don't think maybe it's—"

"My best chance at rebuilding my life with someone who truly loves me at my side?" Rumple supplied. "These bedside chats have been comforting, but once I'm discharged, I doubt that any of the rest of you lot will be coming to call on me until you need something." His eyes narrowed. "I'll be quite clear. Belle and I fully intend to proceed with our nuptials, regardless of any misgivings you might voice. I trust you'll begrudge neither of us that small happiness?"

"Of course not," Emma replied, still keeping her distance. "Look, whatever my… misgivings, it doesn't mean I think you don't love each other o-or aren't right for each other. I'm just worried about… timing."

"And you think that our feelings for one another might change for the worse if we postpone the date for… How long did you have in mind, perchance? A week? A month? A year?" His fingers had been loosely clasped in front of him, but now, he flung them apart. "How much time do you think it will take before you grudgingly acknowledge that neither of us needs to 'come to our senses', hmm?"

Emma hesitated. "I-I don't know how to ask this without it coming out wrong," she admitted.

Rumple gave her a hard look. "Well, then, dearie, I'd suggest you think carefully, consider the consequences, and ask what you think you must."

Emma swallowed. "I admit I've never been married before, but I've always believed that marriage needed a foundation of trust and openness."

"Are you suggesting—?"

She flinched at the ice in his reply, but held up a hand. "Let me finish. Please. Just… could you answer me one question hon—" She caught herself. "That's not fair. You've been honest with me since you got back and probably before. So, I guess if I could just ask… Do you trust Belle to stay with you if you don't tie her down to a contract first?"

Rumple's eyes widened. And then, his fingers curled tightly about the bed rails and he all but snarled, "Get out."

Emma nodded. "Okay. And, for what it's worth…," she added quickly, "I'm sorry."

"Out!" he snapped, before she'd got out her last word.

She left.

The nursery ledge was a farther step away from the one Bae now stood on than it had appeared from street level, but the sitting room window was unlatched and it was only a short drop to the floor. Bae stepped in, landing quietly. On the table facing him were three loaves of bread and he suddenly realized how hungry he was. Then he reminded himself that there was more at stake than his stomach. He had to get to Wendy.

A warning bark from the table stayed him. "Nana," he called softly. "Hey, Nana, good girl. Where's Wendy?"

"Bae?" a soft voice called from the doorway. "Bae, you shouldn't be here," Wendy said, hurrying forward. "Oh, but I'm so glad you are!" she cried, flinging her arms about him. "They… they mean to send me away to boarding school. John, too; they're making arrangements for us both, now. Michael's still too little for that, I suppose, but not for the Shadow!"

Bae nodded. "You need to leave now, before it gets dark," he said.

"We can't! Nana will bark and Liza's guarding the door, and where would we go anyway?"

"To—" Bae stopped. No, he couldn't take them home with him… Could he? As furious as he still was with Papa, Papa knew the Shadow better than any of them and he wouldn't hurt the Darlings. "Maybe…"

He was still mad. But Papa might be their best chance!

He took another breath. "Can… can we talk in the nursery? I may have an idea, but I think you need to know what you're getting into."

Wendy shook her head. "My brothers are in there. This is better." She gestured to the sofa beside the window through which he'd entered. "We can sit here," she continued with a gentle smile.

Rumple was still seething more than ten minutes after Emma had left the room. How dared she insinuate that—?

And she'd known exactly which buttons to press, too, hadn't she?

And here he'd been thinking that they'd finally reached some sort of understanding!

He did his best to stamp out the traitorous voice inside him suggesting that her questions and concerns rather suggested that she did understand him all too well. She might be making some fair assumptions, but in this case, they were wrong!

Weren't they?

He did have a habit of locking people into deals and contracts to get his requirements met. It had been practically second nature to him for centuries. Just because he hadn't had much opportunity for it over the course of the last three years…

…Apart from exchanging the labor of his hands for the fruits of Banks's education to help Bae prepare for that scholarship examination…

…And various other small deals and bargains that had managed to keep them afloat when their wages fell short of their needs…

…And…

And the Savior would know all about being locked into a deal with him, wouldn't she? But the bargain that the two of them had struck for Cinderella's brat had nothing to do with what was happening now!

But what if she was right?

Well, what if she was? Rumple asked himself angrily. Hadn't he had enough people walk out of his life? If the love he and Belle shared was True, then they didn't need a marriage contract to prove it, but maybe he needed it yet. If only to prove to himself that she did love him enough to make the commitment. Of course, even in the Enchanted Forest, a marriage wasn't always eternally binding. There were escape clauses, loopholes, and other methods of dissolution. But he knew Belle and he knew that she wouldn't look for such options, unless she believed that their marriage was built on a fraudulent foundation. It wouldn't be.

But Emma Swan would be advised to keep her nasty suspicions to herself before others got wind of them!

Bae exhaled and felt a great weight roll off his shoulders. "So, that's the truth," he said finally. "All of it, I think. I-I know it sounds hard to believe—"

Wendy shook her head. "No. Well," she smiled, "I suppose to a grownup it would be, but I believe you. It," she smiled self-consciously. "Well, it explains why you aren't quite like everyone else I know. And you don't think me odd when I want to try one of the experiments out of John's chemistry set. And when Father talked of hoping to send John or Michael to university when it's time and I asked if I couldn't go as well, I saw you frown when Father laughed and said it'd be wasted on me and that men wouldn't want a wife with more education than they had."

"I don't see why that should matter," Bae said honestly, confusion plain on his features.

"Yes," Wendy smiled. "I know. So," she said seriously, "your father is Rumpelstiltskin, truly?"

Bae nodded.

"How curious. Tell me, what would he have done with the miller's daughter's baby?"

Bae shook his head. "That's just a story. And Papa and I came here before it happened anyway, but since it wouldn't have happened that way anyhow, I…" He shook his head. "I'm glad it didn't. I'm still trying to deal with the things I know he did."

"Yes," Wendy said. "Sorry, I'm still trying to understand it all. Your father is from the future and he came to your past and," she frowned. "I think I have it, but you must admit it's rather confusing. And peculiar."

"And horrible," Bae said. "I've been living with a murderer!"

"But he's still your father."

"Yeah."

"And you love him?"

Bae hesitated. Then, almost guiltily, he nodded. "And he's sick, now. Really sick."

"Dying?" Wendy asked, alarmed.

"I think so. I mean, not right now, but he's been getting weaker and weaker lately and I don't know how much longer he can hang on." He looked up quickly. "You won't tell your father, will you? I mean, I don't want him to get sacked!"

"Of course not," Wendy said. "That would be horrible. No. Sometimes, people do terrible things, but they can change. They did in a story I heard Mother reading aloud to Father about a miser who needed three ghosts to show him how horrible a path he was on and he took the message to heart and repented and changed!"

Bae smiled sadly. "That's in a story."

"So's your father."

Bae absorbed that. Then he glanced out the window and realized that the sky glowed pink and orange. "I didn't realize how late it was," he said, getting to his feet. "Come on."

"What?"

Bae took a breath. "If you want to be safe, then you need to get your brothers. We have to leave now. We'll go the same way I came up, down the ladder—it's sturdy enough. I'll take you to where Papa and I live tonight, and we'll get you back before daybreak while your parents are sleeping." He hesitated. "I mean, unless you think you'd rather they take their chances with the Shadow, after all."

Wendy's eyes widened. "No," she said at once. "But Nana, Liza… they'll sound the alarm when they realize we've gone!"

"It doesn't matter," Bae said. "They'll be worried tonight, but you'll be safe tomorrow."

Wendy clamped her lips shut and nodded. "Wait here, Bae. I'll get them," she said, heading for the sitting room door.

Bae waited tensely for her return. Five minutes passed, then ten. Finally nearly a half hour later, Wendy reappeared, clasping both brothers' hands in her own.

Nana whimpered as Bae opened the window again.

"Shh, Nana," Wendy whispered. "Good girl. Don't tell anyone we're gone."

Perhaps, the St. Bernard understood, for she thumped her tail once on the carpeted floor and laid her head down between her front paws.

"Good girl," Wendy said again. Then she stopped. "Wait," she said. "I really ought to leave a note for Mother and Father. So they won't worry."

Bae looked with alarm at the darkening sky. "There's no time!" he said urgently. "Wendy, we've got to go now!"

"I-I suppose so," she said reluctantly, even as her brothers tugged at her hands, drawing her to the window. "But—OH!"

At that moment, every light in the sitting room went out. An icy wind, darker than the evening sky, gusted in through the window, chilling both children and canine to the bone. And in the heart of that wind, two malevolent golden eyes glowed in triumph.