Mary Margaret was missing.

Emma had called her cell phone the second they realized she was unaccounted for and gotten no answer. He figured that was good for him. If Mary Margaret was going to do this, she wouldn't want to reach out to anyone, wouldn't want her daughter to talk her down or tell her not to act.

Next, she had tried calling David, but also to no avail. Baelfire explained that one quickly. "He got blown out the door pretty hard," he explained. "Maybe your mom is helping him."

"You think he's hurt."

"Well…not…seriously?" he'd shrugged as Emma began to pace back and forth again.

He groaned as a wave of magic tingled his skin again. Cora, trying to break through the barrier. It made him ache down to his bones. He was weak. Weaker than he had been when he'd shown Emma the spell and sent Mary Margaret out into the world...weaker than he should have been.

"Papa?"

"Gold? You all right?"

He nodded, and Bae helped him with his pillow so that he could prop himself up against the corner.

"Save for the fact that I'm dying…"

Dying. He hadn't focused on healing nearly as much as he knew he should have when he'd felt his freedom, and now, suddenly, the weight of the word "dying" hit him like a ton of bricks crashing down on him; without his magic, he felt every last ounce of that weight. Mary Margaret…he hoped that she was on her way to curse Cora's heart, he hoped that Cora had sent Regina after her, and he hoped that Mary Margaret would be able to convince her stepmother to put her mother's heart back where it belonged. But he didn't know that he could. In fact, he had more evidence to the contrary. The boy who led him to his son would be his undoing…and the Seer was never wrong. Despite what he hoped, he knew more. He knew that Cora was still coming for him. He knew that the poison was working. He knew that he was weak and incapable of defending himself or healing himself so long as Cora commanded it. Hell, it was just a miracle that she hadn't thought to simply make him get up and come into the shop! It was only a matter of time until Cora broke through. And then…death.

Suddenly, a phone began to chime, and he managed to open his eyes just in time to see her pull it out. "David!" she gasped. "For now. I've got the spell up in the back room." Emma suddenly glanced over her shoulder at him. "She's not with you?" She turned to Bae, and he noted a small imperceptible shake of her head.

"Well, then where the hell is she?" Bae asked, understanding the problem.

Emma suddenly grabbed for Bae's arm, glanced at the threshold to the front room, where he still felt the pulses indicating Cora's threatening presence. Then, she turned her back on it abruptly. "A few minutes ago," she whispered into the phone, "right after we got back here, I heard Cora talking to Regina. She sent her away, told her to go to her vault, said someone was messing with her heart…"

So she'd put two and two together on her own. She just didn't know the role he'd played in it yet. No one but Mary Margaret could reveal that, and he had a feeling that wouldn't happen until David got there.

"Keep me posted," Emma ordered, hanging up and turning back to him and his son. "He's gonna check the vault."

"Why would she go there?"

"If Cora's heart is at the vault, then maybe she thinks she can control her with it?"

He distracted them with a sharp breath as another wave of magic rolled over him. He didn't have to exaggerate the noise to distract them. That…that was more than an ache.

"Gold?"

"Not dead yet, Miss Swan."

"This isn't a time for jokes."

He wasn't joking.

Regina on the way to the vault, that wasn't a coincidence. Mary Margaret was there. Now he had to hope she was following orders. Now he had to hope Regina would listen. Now he had to hope that she made it back here in time because if she didn't…he'd die. He'd rather that than die by the dagger. At least some good would come from his death if they kept her away long enough to let him die naturally.

"It's getting weaker," Bae commented. "She's going to get through."

"Maybe it's for the best," he commented before he could consider the words, really and truly consider them. They surprised him. They terrified the Dark Ones but, much to his surprise, he found they were true. All things considered, if Mary Margaret failed, there was one thing he would rather see happen above all else, and that was to die quickly so that by the time she made it through, there was nothing to steal. "At least this cursed power will pass from this world."

"No!" Bae snapped, throwing something, a sword maybe, down onto the table as he came closer. "No, you're not dying."

"I am dying. That much is certain." However, he did appreciate the heartfelt response to the reality of it. It wasn't exactly a gesture of love and forgiveness as he'd longed for, but he'd take it. Beggars couldn't be choosers; he'd learned that all his life. But…now that he was prepared to accept his fate, accept the possibility of death, the question was how could he speed it up. If Cora was going to get through, he needed to make sure he was passed before that happened to deny her the ability to take his power. The way he saw it, it was the only way to continue to protect Baelfire and Belle from Cora. Mr. Gold and Rumpelstiltskin had a little insight into some of that. Acceptance could be key. Giving up. Letting himself accept that his death was imminent. Mr. Gold had false memories of far too many people passing after they'd come to terms with fate and given up the fight. Well, that and one last thing...tying off loose ends.

Mr. Gold was settled. He was a lawyer himself, and he'd had one to deal with his Aunt's estates and all of Storybrooke since he was a boy; no matter how false those memories were, the paperwork existed. He trusted Emma's ability to make sure Mr. Gold's wealth went into the right hands. But Rumpelstiltskin…if these were his last minutes on earth, he'd choose to spend them with his family. Bae was here. That was his greatest success. But there was another, and if she couldn't be with him now and he couldn't be by her side, then there was one way he could. If these were his last moments, there was something his conscience demanded of him.

"I need to talk to Belle. Emma, please," he breathed.

To her credit, she didn't fight or argue as Bae did, and she certainly didn't question the decision or what he was about to do like he was certain the hospital staff would. She simply reached into her pocket and handed him the phone she'd taken from him on the ship.

"Who's Belle?" he heard his son ask.

"Your dad's girlfriend," Emma answered for him as he found Belle's number.

The answer cut him to the bone because it wasn't anything like he would have liked Bae to see Belle. She was an aspect of his life he'd never fully get to explain to his son the way he wanted to or the way he'd dreamed. He'd have to accept that. But there was one thing that he wanted to do, questions he needed to answer for her because despite what Whale and the nurse said, he still believed with his whole heart and soul that she deserved to know who she was. If he couldn't see her again, he'd at least ease his soul knowing he'd given her that.

The phone rang several times, just enough that he felt his fingers clench. What happened if she didn't pick up, if the last thing he got to say to her was only in the form of a message? What was he supposed to say if she-

"Mr. Gold…" he finally heard her mutter almost sadly on the other end of the line. "I…I told you before I…I don't remember you."

"I-I-I know," he exclaimed quickly. Talking was difficult. Or maybe it was just breathing that was difficult, especially given the fact that the tone of her voice put a lump in his throat. She'd softened to him. She was obviously still confused, but her tone was far from the violent and insistent one she'd used when he was with her before he'd left. Oh…perhaps they could fix things if he lived...

No. Acceptance of the inevitable meant acceptance.

They could've fixed things if he'd lived.

But seeing as how he needed to surrender, to prepare himself for the most likely scenario, then there was something she needed to know.

"I know. It's just…Sweetheart, I-I'm dying."

"Oh!" he heard her breath on the other end. He could hear the confusion in her voice, the uncertainty as she probably debated with herself what she was supposed to say to a stranger. But he focused only on her words, on her voice. Belle's voice. That never changed. "I'm…I'm sorry."

"I know that you're confused about who you are. So, I'm going to tell you..."

Fuck the doctors and nurse's orders. She needed to know. And best of all, when he got to the point, he was confident that he didn't need to scare her with words she wouldn't believe or understand. He only needed to give her the truth about who she was.

"You are a hero. You helped your people. You're a beautiful woman who loved an ugly man; really, really loved me," he felt tears begin to well in his eyes, and his throat swelled as he tried to keep himself calm enough to get through this. What would he give to have her here with him now? To be able to actually wrap himself up in her love, instead of just knowing that it existed and acknowledging it. "You find goodness in others…and when it's not there…you create it. You make me want to go back…back to the best version of me. And that never happened before. So, when you look in the mirror, and you don't know who you are…that's who you are!"

It was perfect. It was probably what he should have told her from the beginning, nothing but truth and yet nothing he thought would terrify or scare her. No details, details meant nothing; where Belle was raised, her father's name, her Kingdom, even him…details were not who she was. It was her heart, the way she looked inside of him and pulled out all the best parts despite the opposition from the worst parts. He'd lived hundreds of years and still experienced so many firsts with her; a blush as he'd given her a rose, the warmth of her hand in his, late nights spent watching her sleeping form, days spent thinking about her, longing for her, True Love's Kiss…

He cherished every last one of his firsts.

"Thank you…Belle…"

Without warning, his energy gave out. He only just managed to hit the "end" before his arm fell to his side. He didn't want her to hear any of what was bound to follow.

The truth was that he didn't have the strength for much more. Breathing was hard. And the pain…the pain was growing bearable. That was perhaps the most frightening thing about it. He was confident that as he died, the pain was supposed to grow overwhelming, but here he was, feeling it lapse moment after moment. Second by second, his body felt like nothing more than a heavy weight he was drifting away from. Drifting. Drifting. Drifting…

"Didn't know you had that in you," he heard Bae mutter quietly.

"Oh, I'm full of love," he smirked, not because it was funny, but rather because of the irony of it.

It wasn't funny it was sad. Sad because for the last two hundred years, every single step he'd ever taken, whether healthy or broken, treacherous or safe, good or bad, had all been motivated by one thing-the love he felt for his son. Even since before he'd been born! Everything had always been about wiping away the sins of his family's past by being the kind of father that did right by his boy. Bae couldn't see that? Even now?

"I've spent a lifetime looking for you," he proclaimed, these words every bit as important as the words he'd given to Belle, "for a chance to say I love you…and I'm sorry."

And there it was. Those were the words he wanted to say. Those were the words he should have said in New York during those three minutes, what he should have said when Bae found out about Henry, what he fucking should have told Emma to tell him if she caught him. He should have said them every moment up until this one! But if this was all he got, the only chance he had…at least he got to say them. At least he got to say what most needed to be said.

His heart fluttered, skipping a beat not out of anticipation or expectation. No…he recognized that flutter, the slight pain that spiked in it. He'd felt it in the Enchanted Forest when the Dark Ones had tried to warn him about his dark heart failing on him one day. He was coming to the end of his time.

"I didn't think you would go back on your deal," Bae grumbled. He was nearby; he knew he was. He'd been sitting right next to him a moment ago, and now the shop seemed darker and blacker, and he felt even more adrift as his heart fluttered again. He couldn't even perceive Emma…he just wanted to know he was there.

"I just made the wrong choice. May I?" he asked, holding up a hand, desperate to know he was still there, to be anchored to something in these last moments.

"I'm still angry."

"I know…"

He wouldn't expect any different. He just wanted-

Weight. Touch. Presence.

There was a sting in his hand as he heard the powerful slap of his son grabbing his hand, gripping it, holding it tight, and squeezing almost painfully. But he wouldn't trade that sting for all the magic in the world or even all the realms. Not as he sensed Baelfire pulling himself closer and resting his forehead on his own. He felt his breath on his hands, felt him grab and hold onto the other one as tight as he did the first. What had Archie said? Just tell him the truth? Honesty was the only way? It turned out the cricket was right.

Once upon a time, Pinocchio had tricked him into thinking that he was his son. Once upon a time, for just a flicker of a moment, he'd wished he'd had his magic, believing that if his son kissed him, his Curse would have broken, and he would have welcomed it. This was that moment again. He was certain as he clasped hands with his son, and he knelt before him as if in reverence that whatever anger there might have been between them, love was stronger. And this time, if he dared to kiss him, he might just become human again. If things were different now, he would have welcomed that change, just as he had when he'd been tricked. But he had the feeling that this, holding hands, this alone was far enough for Bae at the moment. And at his heart, he didn't want to push him. Besides, there was no reason. He could feel his life ebbing away second by second. When that happened, the Curse would be gone forever.

Why push it when he could spend these seconds holding his boy?

Ah...this moment. This beautiful, beautiful moment. I'd meant to cut this into two, separate Belle from Bae a little bit, but in the end, I thought that this entire scene worked much better without being dragged out.

Thank you so much for your reviews on the last chapter Spunkymouse and rsbeall12. I really hope that you enjoy this chapter because we all know that from here things sort of start to get choppy. Not that things aren't choppy here, but...I think it's more of a sad thing to me. The more I read this scene, the more I sit with these conversations, the more I believe that if Bae had kissed him, we might have gotten TLK. Hell, I'm even convinced that if he could have gotten to Belle after his call, in the state that she was in, I think TLK might have worked even then. But of course, no one does that, and it doesn't matter even if he did because I had him bind the Curse to himself in The Dark Curse. Either way, here we are. The simple is gone. And the future is coming. Peace and Happy Reading!