Chapter 5—"…Of Sadness and Tears"


"What do you care, anyway?" Rumplestiltskin snapped after he'd finished telling a story he should have known better than to share. The last time he'd dared tell anyone about his past, the last time he'd trusted enough, he'd been rewarded with a broken heart. Fool. The next words snarled out of him like a rabid animal. "You're as dark as I am!"

Fiona rolled her eyes with the same wry humor she'd displayed over the last two days, nodding in acceptance without trying to excuse herself. "Of course I am. Although I do hope I am sometimes less likely to act like a manic toddler."

Fury brought him to his feet. "I am not a—"

"You're not a child, I know. You're the Dark One. Do sit down." The way she waved his fury away with a dismissive hand took the wind right out of his sails, and then the way she put a hand on his arm brought Rumplestiltskin back to the couch he'd been sitting on at her side. "I care because you are my son, and because being the Black Fairy does not make me any more incapable of love than you are. Now I cannot change the past, but I can be here now. And I can promise you this: I will help you find your son."

Those words hit him like a lightning bolt.

She lies, the darkness whispered, sounding like Nimue. Or was that Gorgon, with his broken heart over the woman who had cursed him into beastly form?

But she was his mother. No one, not even Cora, had ever promised to help him find Baelfire. Rumplestiltskin had never so much as dreamed that anyone would.

"Why?" His whisper was harsh in the sudden silence, and Fiona reached up to cup his face gently in one hand.

That was the second time she'd done that. The only person in the last two centuries to touch him without rancor had been Cora, and she'd never been gentle. There was nothing about Cora that had ever been gentle; she was all lust and power and ambition. This was a soft touch, a mother's touch.

It nearly broke him in two.

"Because you are my son, and he is my grandson." Brown eyes so very like his used to be—Bae's eyes—met his, and Rumplestiltskin couldn't detect a lie in the simple statement.

She'll use you! They all do. No one cares about you. You are nothing, and always have been, the voices inside him raced to whisper, and Rumplestiltskin felt his throat grow tight. He had never been worth loving, had he? Milah had learned to rightfully hate him for his cowardice, Baelfire had come to fear his darkness, and Cora had used his weak nature against him. What would the Black Fairy, the only fairy to ever have gone evil, do?

"I…" He didn't know what to say.

Fiona simply leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, and Rumplestiltskin just didn't know what to do with that.


Her son was not what she had expected.

She had expected the Dark One, frothing and foaming and just as dark as she was in her worst moments. Instead, she found a man full of love, one who had lost his own child under circumstances eerily similar to the ones under which she had lost him. He was broken in so many ways that she hadn't anticipated when she'd blithely agreed to Tiger Lily's deal; things had sounded so simple when Tiger Lily had made her promise to bring her son back to the light! She'd also only known about Dark Ones in theory then, and had assumed that whatever power he had gained was akin to her own, something that could be dark or light depending upon how it was employed.

She'd been wrong about that. Darkness clung to her son like an ever-present cloak, and sometimes Fiona thought that she could feel it pulling on him. She wasn't positive—and she needed a lot more information on the Dark One before she could even begin to make guesses about how to help him—but Fiona had realized the darkness corrupting her son's beautiful soul was not some simple matter of choice.

Perhaps that was why she'd foolishly made another promise. In concept, the fact that she had a grandson mattered very little to her, but it clearly mattered to her son. She supposed that she might care about the tyke if she'd held him in her arms, if he'd been a real person to love, but this Baelfire was only a name to her. Or perhaps the parallel of her son giving up his son to keep his own power had moved her. Either way, she'd been foolish enough to promise to help find Baelfire…because Rumplestiltskin needed her to. He'd only told her the barest facts of his life, and yet Fiona had already realized how utterly alone her son was. She had lived her past life with friends, family, and love, but her son had all of those ripped away from him time and again.

Starting with me. She hated her own role in this, and burned to blame someone else. And she did blame Blue, because if that holier-than-thou bitch hadn't intervened, Fiona never would have been separated from her son at all. Yet her choices had brought her there, too, and watching Rumplestiltskin blame himself for losing his own son made those choices hurt worse than ever. So, she had promised to help him, because she was beginning to realize that no one else had ever kept promises like that, not for him.

Now she quietly watched him spin, wishing the damned boy would go to sleep. Unfortunately, he didn't need sleep while she did, which meant she'd had no opportunity to sneak into his library and read whatever literature Rumplestiltskin had on the Dark One. Still, there was somewhere else she knew she could get information from, wasn't there?


Another three days passed in awkward conversation and strange motherly affection. Eventually, Rumplestiltskin could take it no more and fled as soon as a summons gave him an excuse to do so; he was already starting to crave Fiona's warm touches, and the darkness inside him simply couldn't abide that. Nor could the lost child he'd been, the boy who had silently wished for his father's embraces and yet received none. So, he stayed out of the castle for as long as he could, making deals and twisting magic to his own ends, trying to revel in exploiting one loophole after another. Despite that, he found himself wanting to go back, no matter how much he fought the urge. So, he finished making a deal with a pair of miserable peasant lads who reminded him far too much of himself and returned to the Dark Castle in a foul mood find his mother gone. He didn't want her in his castle, of course, and he should have been relieved, but he felt strangely empty. I don't want her here. I am glad she's gone.

Gleeful cackling filled his mind, but Rumplestiltskin tried to shove it aside. Of course she wouldn't want to be here, either, Nimue pointed out all-too-logically. You are such a monster that you can chase the Black Fairy away! Well done, Dark One. You are truly one of us.

"You're back."

The voice startled him so much that Rumplestiltskin jumped. Then he whirled around, his hands full of fury and magic, ready to rip apart whoever had dared intrude upon his brooding—only to find that it was his mother. And she was smiling.

"Where were you?"

"Breaking into the Sacred Vault of the Fairies." His mother's smile was smug, and the darkness inside Rumplestiltskin sang up to meet it. "I figured I should go take what I needed before 'good' ol' Blue realizes I'm back."

That news made him cock his head curiously, his anger momentarily forgotten. Rumplestiltskin had tried to sneak into the Fairies' sacred vault a half dozen times, but never with any success. Only senior fairies could get in there, and he was certainly not a fairy. Even if it turns out my mother is one. "Did you manage?"

"Don't be silly. Of course I did." Fiona wiggled a little, and finally Rumplestiltskin could see where his own dramatic antics came from. "I may not have my wand, but I learned more about magic in a month than most fairies bothered to do in a lifetime."

Rumplestiltskin smiled despite himself. "About that wand…I might be able to help."

"I can do magic well enough without a wand." His mother shrugged, but the small smile of thanks she gave him sent a strange feeling of warmth stealing through him. "You little collection of them is impressing, but rather unappealing."

"Who says I'm talking about any of those?" He couldn't resist a giggle; three days around his mother had taught him that catching her by surprise was hard, but not impossible. And…well, he wanted to do something nice for her.

You fool. She's only being kind to you so she can use you! Zoso snarled the protest, but he brushed it aside. The other Dark Ones didn't hate Fiona as much as they might; she was dark, too, after all. Even if she was strangely affectionate for someone who still physically stank of dark fairy dust.

"Then what are you talking about?" Fiona leaned forward, and oh, he had her attention now.

"Perhaps something like…this." Rumplestiltskin summoned the wand to himself with a swirl of purple smoke, letting it land in his hand. This wand always awed him a bit with its power; they said that the wand was a reflection of the fairy who used it, and if this was a reflection of his mother, it was interestingly protective.

"You have my wand!" Her gasp was full of surprised glee, and Rumplestiltskin wished he could stop his return smile from growing real. "How?"

"I may have relieved the little blue bug of it." He giggled again, dancing playfully away from Fiona as she reached for the wand. She gave him a mock serious look before trying the second time, however, so Rumplestiltskin offered her a mocking bow and held up the wand like an offering. "Here."

"My darling boy." She squeezed his shoulder with a smile, and Rumplestiltskin did not enjoy it.

He managed to put on a scowl. "I'm hardly a boy."

"You always will be to me."

Her smile was a tad too affectionate, though, and Rumplestiltskin couldn't quite cope with that, or with the strange feeling of happiness trying to creep in on him. So, he changed the subject as quickly as he could, uncomfortable with such a display of emotion.

"So, what did you get from the Sacred Vault of the Fairies?" he asked flippantly. "I trust you didn't leave empty-handed."

"Of course not." She laughed lightly. "I was searching for ways to reach the Land Without Magic, given how fond Blue seems to be of the place."

Rumplestiltskin froze, breathless with a sudden infusion of hope that he couldn't push back. Fool! "Did you—did you find something?"

"Alas, no. Blue seems to have only sent people there via magic bean, and none of the books I found seemed to help." Her frown was deep. "But that doesn't mean I'll stop looking. I took plenty of other books, and there are other magical beings out there that aren't fairies. Most of them won't respond too well to either of us, but a few well-placed threats—"

"If you mean the oh-so-moral Apprentice, I'm afraid I've already bled that well dry." Rumplestiltskin cut in, laughing nastily, hoping that she'd assume he had killed the useless old bastard. He hadn't, of course, even when the Apprentice refused to help him.

I only want to find my son! He had begged and he had pleaded, as some vestige of the spinner's soul had demanded he do. Rumplestiltskin had sought a way to spare the world the curse he knew he would enact, but no, that was not to be. The Apprentice could have saved them all a great deal of trouble with a flick of his wand, but if the so-called protector of humanity could not be bothered to stop him, why should Rumplestiltskin care about anyone else's fate? He could have made me a doorway, and I never would have returned, he thought darkly. Brokenly. Instead, the Apprentice had refused him. Again.

Fiona cocked her head, settling onto the couch near the window in his tower. "Is he that strange looking old man who is friends with Blue? And if so is he still breathing?"

"Don't bother. He said that his magic couldn't create a portal for the Dark One."

Rumplestiltskin wanted to break something or kill someone; darkness boiled up under his skin like a thousand ants.

Another frown. "Hmm."

"Hm?" he echoed. "Is that all you have to say? Hm? I should have killed the useless old carcass!"

Power ripped out of him, and without thinking, Rumplestiltskin launched a fireball in Fiona's direction. He changed his aim at the last moment, letting the fireball explode within the fireplace in a shower of sparks and embers, but that wasn't nearly satisfying enough. Stalking to the left, he grabbed his old walking stick from the corner where it stood, wheeling on the bookshelf and swinging the stick wildly. It smashed into the shelves with a gratifying crash, splintering wood and sending books flying every which way. He hit the shelf again, and then again, smashing the walking stick into it until his shoulders ached.

Finally, he stopped, winded but still broken, fury still racing through his veins. Simple destruction often assuaged the darkness, but not today. Today it was feeding off of his despair, and even though Rumplestiltskin knew that, he could not do a thing to stop it. He hadn't needed the reminder that the Apprentice had refused him, that there was a human with the ability to send him into the Land Without Magic, and yet that one man wouldn't do it. Over the years, Rumplestiltskin had uncovered many pathways to the Land Without Magic that the infernal fairy had failed to mention, but none of them would have been so easy as that one.

Small wonder he'd collapsed so willingly into Cora's arms once he met her two weeks after the Apprentice's refusal. He'd known her daughter could cast the Curse to End All Curses, and he needed that. There was no other way.

But just thinking of Cora made fury rise again. He wanted to kill her, but he couldn't. Not while he needed her daughter, the girl not yet born. He'd seen that in multiple visions, knew what it would take. The darkness did not care, of course, and he could feel the pressure building, could feel it urging him to go to Cora and take his fury out on her.

No. Throwing the staff into the corner hard enough that he was surprised it did not break, Rumplestiltskin pushed back the desire to teleport across kingdoms and rip his former love to shreds. Still, fire began building in his palms, rage roaring through him like a thundering wind. This so-called mother of yours is useless. She is only trying to distract you! He could almost feel Zoso breathing down his neck. Kill her! Kill her and get on with the curse! Take her power and make yourself invincible!

"Are you going to throw those fireballs at me, son, or are your hands just very cold?"

Rumplestiltskin's head snapped up. Fiona was on her feet now, and her tone was playful and somehow chiding all at once. She sounded like a mother, which made him feel strange all over. She didn't look ready to defend herself, but if there was anything he had learned about her over the past few days, it was that one could never tell with her.

Do it. She mocks you. His hands were shaking with rage, not all of it his own.

"Why did he refuse to help you?" Fiona asked softly, stepping forward fearlessly.

"Because I am the Dark One, of course." He let out a high-pitched giggle, trying to prove that he didn't care, that it didn't break his heart. "I always have an ulterior motive. Dark Ones always do. Suppose I can't blame him for knowing that."

"Do you?"

"Of course not!" The words burst out of him with the force of a hurricane. "All I want is to get to him! All I want—I want—"

The last words caught on a sob, and much to Rumplestiltskin's surprise, Fiona reached out for him. He still teleported away from her to grieve in peace, but the gesture was as nice as it was unexpected.


A day after that unexpectedly emotional scene, Rumplestiltskin realized something that should have sunk in at least three days earlier. So, he strode in on his mother reading some text or another that was clearlyin the language of the fairies, pushing the doors to her chamber open without warning. The very sight of that language made him scowl, because it was a reminder of what he didn't want to think about.

"You said you gave up your wings to be with—with—" Despite his disgust, he still couldn't bring himself to call that monster his father.

Not after Pan had tried to steal Bae away, which he hadn't bothered to tell his mother about. Or about how often Pan dropped by to remind him of how unlovable he was. If she hears that, she might agree, Zoso whispered in his mind, and pushing those words away were hard. They were too close to his own insecurities.

"With Malcolm, yes." Fiona seemed to sense his unease; she looked up calmly and folded her hands, ignoring the documents. "I did."

"So…you were a…fairy." He all but spat the word.

"Not a terribly successful one, but I was."

Rumplestiltskin didn't even try to stop the sneer from forming on his face. It felt rancid and nasty, but it was right. His stomach rolled in disgust. "Then I am…part fairy."

"That's debatable, actually." Fiona looked thoughtful, as if she couldn't comprehend how this might bother him. "I was more or less human when you were born, as I'd given up my wings, but I technically remained a fairy, just one without magic."

His eyes bugged out, and she finally seemed to notice that he was having difficulty with the idea. "This bothers you, doesn't it?"

"Of course it does!"

Fiona rose, still calm in the face of the distress Rumplestiltskin couldn't hide. "You dislike all fairies, not just Blue."

"Doesn't everyone? What's to like about them? They're greedy little power-grabbers, eager to gather all the magic they can and only help those they find 'worthy'." Rumplestiltskin let a dark giggle bubble out, gesturing wildly. "Not much there to love."

"No, there isn't." His mother's easy shrug jerked Rumplestiltskin up short. "Relax, my son. You are not defined by your blood—we are each who we make of ourselves. I was born as a minor fairy, unimportant and destined to be nothing and no one. I chose to take my fate into my own hands and fall in love, and I don't regret that, because it gave me you."

Those words took the breath right out of his chest, and Rumplestiltskin could only stare.

"Destiny can guide us, but in the end we make our own decisions," Fiona said fiercely, and he could see a deep pain and determination in her eyes. "Yes, you are half fairy, but that does not mean you are anything like Blue or her minions. And it doesn't mean you have to be like me, either."

He laughed nervously. "That apple didn't seem to fall far from the tree, Mother." They were two of a kind, weren't they? Black Fairy and Dark One, neither destined to be what they were, yet dark and powerful all the same.

Her smile was secretive. "Perhaps."


Exhausted from childbirth, Fiona still noticed the small forms approaching the window. She hadn't expected fairies, not at all—not for a fallen fairy who had chosen love over duty. Her own superiors had been disgusted at her, but they'd let her go when Fiona made her wishes clear. She'd only been a novice, after all, and not a terribly good one by their standards. She'd been too emotional, too quick to embrace life. Cyan had said that she lacked the proper perspective to be a good fairy, and Fiona thought they were secretly glad to be rid of her.

She was fairly certain that the Blue Fairy—the head of the entire order!—didn't recognize her, and she knew that Tiger Lily couldn't, since she'd never met the red fairy. So, she played off her knowledge of fairy godmothers, still absolutely gobsmacked that her son would need a fairy godmother at all. Her boy, special enough to get that kind of guidance and protection? Usually that was reserved for royalty, or at least nobles, and Fiona had fallen for a simple blacksmith. Fairies did not come for their kind, not ever.

"Is there something wrong?" She tried to keep her voice level, but it was hard.

Much to her surprise, Tiger Lily's smile was honest and open. "Quite the opposite."

"A prophecy told us that on this darkest winter's night, a boy would be born with great light magic," the Blue Fairy continued, her smile less open. Yet she seemed eager, almost too eager, to for Tiger Lily to say the next words:

"A child known as the Savior."

Fiona blinked, stopping in the doorway of the tower room where her son practiced his magic. Her son. She had cut him off from his destiny, and yet he still took her breath away. Part of her loved the darkness he'd found; she'd spent the last centuries turning to the darkness herself, so when she saw her son doing the same, much of Fiona just wanted to let him. And would it be so terrible? The Black Fairy and the Dark One were natural allies; they could find Baelfire together and yet still enjoy the benefits ignoring morality brought with it. Couldn't they? She could simply forget her promise and love her son, darkness and all.

After all, Rumplestiltskin was proving more difficult than she'd ever expected. She'd always assumed that he'd been a good and quiet child, smart and obedient, and eager to please. Now she found that he was utterly brilliant, but also mercurial and volatile, furious and broken. He was everything a Dark One should not be, and yet she suspected he was the most knowledgeable of the lot. The way his hands moved over the potion he was working on caught her eye, and Fiona did not need more than a moment to realize that he was indeed an expert in the magic he practiced. He knew potions better than she did, actually, for all of her natural aptitude and study. That made a small smile touch her lips, and Fiona finally walked into the room, enjoying the fact that Rumplestiltskin was either ignoring her or hadn't yet noticed she was there.

Either way, that meant she'd earned some small measure of his trust, and that left her giddy with hope.

"What are you doing?" She had been in the castle for two weeks, and had been careful not to question him too much, even when she burned to. It was important that Rumplestiltskin not think his mother wanted to control him in any way, particularly not using the thorny method they were both aware of. Particularly since Fiona could feel where the dagger was hidden away. Dark magic like that called to her, and even though she was trying to ignore it, the temptation to just take a look was hard to resist.

"An experiment." Rumplestiltskin's voice was deeper when he was focused, lacking the high-pitched tones of the imp. Was that what he should have sounded like? Fiona felt her heart skip a painful beat. Was she prepared to sacrifice what Rumplestiltskin should have been to embrace what he now was?

"I can see that. I wouldn't ask if I knew what your experiment was, dear. Do be more specific."

Golden eyes slid to study her inscrutably. "True Love. I am trying to bottle True Love."

"That's impossible." Centuries of practicing magic told Fiona that no one, no matter how knowledgeable, could harness the most powerful magic of all, but Rumplestiltskin scowled at her automatic response. She might have tried herself, had she not known it was pointless. Even if that much light magic still makes my skin itch.

"Impossible only means someone hasn't done it yet."

"Sometimes impossible is simply impossible."

One of those off-putting giggles rang out, but Fiona was starting to think they were more a nervous habit than an attempt to frighten her. Rumplestiltskin wasn't stupid enough to think she was afraid of him, anyway. "That's what they want you to think, dear—uh, forget that last part."

"Of course." Fiona barely managed to keep a straight face, knowing that if she laughed at his attempts to nice, her prickly son would never forgive her. She'd witnessed Rumplestiltskin's habit of calling anyone he didn't like—and some that he did—'dearie', but apparently he thought that was not a suitable way to address his mother. Instead, she studied his handiwork, watching the golden spark inside the rose colored potion fade into black ash. "Your catalyst isn't strong enough."

"I know." He scowled, the imp's voice vanishing again. "Something's missing. It should work. This is the Age of True Love—I've Seen it."

Those last words made her cock her head. "Seen? You are a Seer?"

Her breath caught; how could she have missed that? Of all things to miss, if her son was marked by such magic, did that mean that his destiny as a Savior hadn't been completely cut away?

"Ah, yes. I took that power. Not that it's been terribly useful." A nasty laugh came along with a dismissive wave of one hand. "Made another deal I didn't understand, that one. Should have asked why she wanted to be rid of the blasted power so badly."

That wasn't something Fiona could really sympathize with; she'd never seen the future and didn't really want to. The one prophecy that had touched her life was bad enough, so she returned to the original subject. "Why do you want to bottle True Love?"

"For the power, of course."

"Don't be intentionally obtuse. We both know that True Love directly opposes everything you are, so why do you want to use it?" Fiona wasn't sure what kind of answer she was hoping for.

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "True Love can break any curse."

"Even yours?" She cocked her head. "Do you want to be free of this?"

"Of course not! What kind of fool do you take me for?" He swung on her, his golden eyes full of a strangely misplaced rage. "I need the power to find my son."

Now was not the time to mention that she had power enough for both of them; Fiona was wise enough to know that wouldn't go over well. Rumplestiltskin had had power for too long to want to live without it, so whatever she did—if she tried—to free him from his curse would have to include magic. He was too used to it. I would want the same, in his shoes. I could never stomach being just some mundane human again.

"Of course you do." Stepping forward, Fiona reached out and squeezed his arm, studying the failed potion. It had come close; she could tell because it was making her itch already. Damn this dark fairy dust. It's in every pore I have. The Dark Realm had marked her in ways Fiona wasn't sure she liked, and that uncertainty was frightening in and of itself. "I understand."

Rumplestiltskin glared, but the obviously angry denial he was started to speak died on his lips. His voice dropped to a whisper. "I imagine you do."

She should tell him, she knew. She should tell him the truth of why she'd been banished, yet Fiona couldn't bear to. What if he hated her?

"It doesn't matter." There was that giggle again, marking another one of his mood swings. Fiona was even starting to be able to figure out where they came from; Rumplestiltskin grew ever angrier after he opened up about anything. He seemed to hate his own need for affection and acceptance, and she burned to know how that had happened to him. "Our family may have a habit of abandoning children, but I will not let it continue."

"Nor will I," she said quietly, and much to Fiona's surprise, she meant it.

Was he so broken before he became the Dark One, or did this come after? He had told her his life's story, but only the broad strokes of it. She knew of how he'd crippled himself, how his wife had abandoned him for a pirate, and even how he'd killed said wife—which had been said with a devastated glee that Fiona sensed hit utter self-loathing. Granted, she couldn't pity the wench one bit—the idea of leaving a child willingly set her teeth on edge. She knew how he'd lost his son, and the many paths he'd tried to find him. She even knew a little of that foolishly ambitious miller's daughter, who had for some reason thought that abandoning the Dark One—a trained sorcerer of a Dark One!—for a king's fourth son would help her rise in the world. But Rumplestiltskin had yet to let her see more than glimpses beneath the surface, and she suspected that a long time would pass before he did so.

"Yes, because that matters so much!" he snapped, his temper out again.

Fiona met his eyes, resisting the urge to shake the idiot temper out of him. "Are you going to rage against the injustices of the universe again? If so, do please go destroy something so you can make yourself feel better. I cannot change the past, and you know I did not want to leave you!"

"I'm not talking about you!"

The image of Malcolm's new face suddenly came to mind, smug and self-centered. Rumple was a pathetic little brat, anyway, always demanding love and care, never standing up for himself, he'd said. Her voice came out in a suddenly broken whisper. "What did he do to you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." The broken expression was replaced by bored disdain, but Fiona reached out to take his arm before he could teleport away.

"Yes, you do." She wasn't going to let him avoid this line of questioning. Malcolm had been a sweet and gentle man to her, but evidence that he'd been everything but loving to their son was mounting quickly. "Tell me what he did. Did he hurt you?"

A shrug told her she was on the right track; Rumplestiltskin would not meet her eyes. Yet Fiona sensed there was more. Having a mewling, clingy little worm stuck to you every moment of every day gets old after a while.

"Did he?"

"It does not matter." He looked down. "I'm used to it."

"Used to—to being hurt?" Rage surged up inside her, and Fiona wanted to kill Malcolm—Pan!—herself. The bastard. He hurt my boy!

"He traded me for power and eternal youth," Rumplestiltskin spat. "But I did much the same to my boy, so I am quite certain I deserved it."

"You are not like—"

"I am." He jerked away from her, turning away almost before Fiona could see the tears shimmering in his eyes.

"Rumplestiltskin."

"I am!"

He teleported away again, fleeing the castle to who-knew-where. When he returned, he would not speak to her for days, and Fiona almost started to lose hope.


A/N: Stay tuned for Chapter 6—"Wiser But Unsure," in which Fiona and Rumplestiltskin bond and then get in a fight over the children in the Dark Realm, Fiona eats some crow, and Cora returns to the Dark Castle.