3
No Son of Mine
The moon hung like a wandering pale eye in the sky before Jimmy arrived at the docks. At this time of night they were deserted, the only sound was the wind and the waves slapping against the wooden pilings. Barely a ripple stirred the water yet Jimmy knew that the ship was near. He strode to the end of the dock, and whispered, "Plunder."
Suddenly the air shimmered like a gauzy curtain, and it pulled aside to reveal a familiar two masted galleon flying the skull and crossbones. The ship caused a sudden pang of longing to stir in the young man's chest. He knew the Roger like the back of his hand, having grown up on her decks. It was as familiar to him as his house on the island or the Victorian in Storybrooke. He inhaled the familiar smells of tar, salt water, gunpowder, hemp, and faintly fish.
Swallowing against the sharp nervous fluttering in his midsection, he leaped aboard, calling out, "Ahoy there! 'Tis Jimmy Hook."
Smee, his father's first mate, turned and spotted him, a broad grim wreathing his chubby face. "Jimmy! Welcome back, lad! Your dad and mum are waiting for ye down in the captain's quarters."
Several other crew members waved and called greetings, a few chuckling at Jimmy's suit. "Have ye become a penguin, lad?"
"Nay," he answered. "I was attending a wedding."
"Oh ho! Was there rum there? Didja kiss the bride?"
"Aye, there was some whiskey and such. And I gave the bride a hello kiss," he replied honestly.
"Was she comely then? Mebbe ye oughter have given her more than a kiss!" cheered Barbossa.
"Yer dad would've, for sure!" shouted another pirate, Pegleg Pete.
Jimmy winced inwardly, knowing that was true. His dad had never been one to pass up a pretty girl, married or not. He always returned to Milah, but Jimmy had known long ago that women were like drink to Killian Jones, between them and the bottle he could forget his own name. Before he had met Mr. Gold he had thought that was simply the way a man behaved. But now . . . now he knew differently. And a part of him squirmed in shame.
He accepted rough hugs, hand clasps and swats on the back from the two dozen pirates who crewed the Jolly Roger. He had known all of them since he was a tiny sprout and none of them had aged much due to being on Neverland for part of their lives.
He made his way below decks, climbing down the ladder into the hold with careless ease. He didn't even need to think about it. His shoes echoed hollowly in the empty corridor as he walked towards the far cabin which his father shared with his mother.
The door swung open and Hook stood there, a broad grin on his face. "Milah, love! Look who's come home!"
He caught his son in a rough embrace, and Jimmy struggled not to cough at the fumes of rum that arose from Hook's mouth in a foul miasma. He had forgotten that his father indulged for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Indeed anytime he felt like it. He wrinkled his nose at the slightly rancid smell of the elder pirate's black leather outfit, then said weakly, "Hi, Dad."
Hook released his son and beckoned him inside. "Go greet your mum, lad."
Jimmy obediently approached his mother, who was sitting in a wooden chair fastened to the floor like a queen on her throne. She wore a black lace half-mask to cover her unsightly scars on the left half of her face. But the mask only added to her allure. Despite being almost forty, Milah Jones was still a heartbreakingly pretty woman with her lush ebony curls and flawless tanned skin, tiny waist and legs that made men drool.
She wore leather breeks laced up the side, high floppy black boots, a white billowy-sleeved shirt, black leather vest, and about her waist was a belt with a cutlass and dagger. Around her neck was heavy golden chain with a sparkling diamond pendant—something Killian had won in a card game long ago. Her dark eyes fixed on her youngest son.
"Hello, Mum," he said softly, wishing that he could drum up some enthusiasm upon seeing her again. But all he felt was a sudden squeezing in his bowels, not joy. For he had a feeling this conversation would not go well. He bent to place a perfunctory kiss on her smooth cheek.
Milah scowled at her offspring. "You're late. What kept you?"
"I was attending a wedding." He replied, knowing full well that was not what she meant.
"Not tonight," she snapped. "I mean why weren't you reporting in before? We've been here a few days already. How goes the espionage, son? Have you learnt anything that will enable me to kill that bastard yet? Any weaknesses besides his bloody dagger?" Her eyes glowed with repressed hatred.
Jimmy suppressed a shiver. He had forgotten how Milah's eyes resembled a crazed shark's when she spoke of her former husband, Mr. Gold. He searched for a reply that wouldn't cause her to go into a tirade, at last saying, "Err . . . Mr. Gold doesn't obey the dagger any longer, Mum."
"How is that possible? The Dark One always is enslaved to the dagger."
"Not now. He . . . He's no longer the Dark One."
"What? He broke his curse? Without dying? How?"
"I don't really understand all the magical particulars but an apprentice of his came and she broke it." Jimmy related, hoping Milah wouldn't ask what apprentice. For she would be sure to recognize Vasilisa.
Milah snarled a few choice swear words. "Must have been that whimpering Regina! She's the only apprentice here with him in this realm. So you're telling me Rumple is mortal again? The coward spinner?"
"Not exactly. He's not crippled anymore. His daughter healed him with magic."
"What daughter? You mean he's sired another brat? With what idiot woman?"
"Her name is Belle. She was his chatelaine back in our world. And he's got more than one kid now. She just had twins a few months ago." All of this was nothing that Hook or Milah couldn't have found out by listening to town gossip. Thus, Jimmy felt no guilt in telling her.
Milah looked like she wanted to throttle something. "Go on. So he's mortal and still a weakling, yes?"
"Um . . . actually he's the richest man in town. He owns almost all the property and he's the landlord as well as a lawyer. It was part of the deal he made with Regina. And he still has magic."
"How? He never was a mage before!" Milah cried, shocked.
"Apparently he was—but his magic was blocked for a time. Once his curse broke, he became what he was born—a white magician," Jimmy said, unable to keep the pride from his voice.
His mother glared at him. "You sound almost . . . happy. Have you forgotten that Rumplestiltskin is our great enemy? Have you forgotten what he owes me?" she gestured to her face, half-hidden behind her mask.
"No, but . . ."
"Don't bury yourself in the part, boy!" she growled. "You're a Jones and no Jones ever needed Rumplestiltskin for anything but a rug to wipe his boots on. Right, Killian? Tell your son about how you told off my crippled former husband."
"He's heard that story, love. A thousand times," Hook drawled as he sipped a tumbler of rum. "But, aye, your mum's right, lad. Rumple was naught but a coward then and he is still."
"How do you know?" Jimmy asked softly, greatly daring.
"Once a coward always a coward!" Milah laughed. "Leopards don't change their spots or a coward of his yellow stripe down his back!" Her eyes narrowed. "What else, Jimmy? What does Rumple fear the most?"
"Not much, Mum," he answered honestly. "He's not like you say. Not any longer. He's . . . he's well respected now and . . . wise and powerful, Mum. As powerful as the Evil Queen used to be. And he'll do anything to protect his family." And I'm his family, he thought.
Milah stood, her hand clutching the chair arm. "Powerful? Rumple? I don't believe it! He's pretending. He always was a good pretender." She launched into a tirade about how Rumple had always lied to her, promising her the moon when she married him. "And what did I get? A lying coward! That's what!"
Jimmy shook his head. "Mum, that's the past," he interrupted. "He's not like that anymore. He's changed." And so have I. "If you go up against him, it won't be pretty. You might even get hurt or die. Mum, why can't you see it's time to—give up this revenge? And move on with your life."
"Move on? What do you mean, James? How can I—move on—when I am this?" she spat, indicating her ruined face. "Rumplestiltskin took my face! Now I will take what's owed me threefold! And make the coward rue the day he ever crossed me!"
"Mum! Will you listen to yourself?" Jimmy began with a conciliatory tone. "There's more to life than revenge. Revenge makes you bitter and hard. It ruins you for anything except doom. The wages of revenge are loneliness and death. If not for you than for me. Is that what you want, Mum?"
"I want Rumple to pay!" she hissed.
"Pay for what? Mum, I know you blame him for what happened, but I talked to Bae. He told me that Mr. Gold never intended to hurt you—but he was fighting with Dad and you got in his way."
"And that makes it all right?"
"No, but . . . it does make it an accident and not . . . not deliberate." Jimmy argued.
"Accident my arse!" Milah screamed. "Rumplestiltskin is the cause of all my misery! You used to know that. Dammit, Jimmy, what happened to you since you arrived in this pisspot town?"
"I grew up," he replied bluntly. "And I learned that there are two sides to every story."
"Now you sound like that milksop Baelfire!" she yelled. "Another useless waste like his papa!"
"He's not!" Jimmy couldn't help himself. "Bae isn't a milksop. He's a martial arts instructor—a warrior."
"A what?" Hook interjected.
Jimmy explained how Bae fought. "He's better than anyone I ever saw with a sword, Dad. He . . . he taught me things I never even knew about fighting." Unable to keep the admiration for his older brother from his tone, Jimmy went on. "Not only that but . . . I learned that there's more to life than revenge. And I found out that I don't want to become bitter and hateful and spend the rest of my days plotting to murder anyone."
Milah gaped at him. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that I want more from my life than that. I don't want to be a pirate anymore. Sorry, Dad, but I've found things here in this world that I never could in our old one. I don't have to be a . . . a freebooter. I can be anything I want."
"And what do you want, lad?" Hook queried astonished.
Jimmy took a deep breath. Then he blurted, "I want to be a photographer. A photo journalist."
"What the bloody hell is that?" his father demanded.
"It's—it's a person who takes pictures and reports on events locally and al over the world. With this—it's called a camera."
He reached into his pocket and showed his parents his Nikon camera. Then he showed them a picture he had taken of the sunset on the dock. "See—you can take pictures of anything and then develop them so people can see and appreciate them."
Milah sneered. "So? What use is that?"
Jimmy stiffened at her criticism. "It pays a lot of money—if you work for the right people. Look, Mum, at how pretty the sunset was. And that was over a week ago. But you can see it just like I did with this photo."
She took the picture and threw it across the deck. "Bah! This isn't what I raised you for. Taking pictures of some sunset with a magic box! How utterly useless! You've been with coward Rumple too long. He's gone and corrupted you into a mealy mouthed weakling. I never thought I'd see the day!"
Her words stabbed Jimmy like a sword thrust to the heart. Temper leaped in his brown eyes and he lashed back, "I'm not a weakling, Mum! Just because I don't want what you do anymore. I'm my own person, why can't you see that? Mr. Gold, Bae, and Belle do." He went on, desperate to get all the words out before Milah erupted. "This world—it's full of opportunities that our old one never had. If you're smart and you work hard you can make something of yourself no matter what you were born as—commoner or king—or where you came from." Jimmy gestured excitedly. "It doesn't matter that I never went to a formal school—Belle—Mrs. Gold—tutored me and I passed my high school proficiency test and now I can go to university and learn to become a photo journalist. I can work for a magazine or a news company and report events going on across the country or even the world. I don't have to steal or pillage any more. I can keep my honor and have my self-respect."
"Oh you can, can ye?" his mother sneered. "Listen to ya, all fancy and high-falutin', like one o' those dyed in the wool nobles! Ha! You forget, my boy, that ye were born as common as dirt no matter what fancy airs ye might have acquired! That don't change!"
Jimmy flinched. "Here it doesn't matter, Mum. Can't you understand?" His tone softened and he tried to employ his most persuasive wiles. "Here is doesn't matter if you were born in a palace or a mud hut, because in America everyone is equal. You can be or do anything here as long as you work hard and do your best."
"And what do you call what yer dad and I have been doing?" Milah snapped.
"You've been getting rich off others misfortune," Jimmy shot back. "I used to think that was okay, but now . . . now I see differently. You don't have to hurt others to get ahead . . . or kill someone that's wronged you. Mum, your hate has poisoned you, like gangrene. And you don't even know it. I remember when you weren't like that . . . when I was small. You were gentle and you laughed and you smelled like tropical flowers . . ."
Milah stiffened. "That was another woman, long ago. She died when Rumple lit her face on fire."
"She can be reborn," Jimmy said eagerly. "Mum, there's medical practices in this world . . . you can have surgery to reconstruct your face . . . you can look just like your old self. It's expensive but I think Mr. Gold could loan me the money . . ."
"Loan you the money? As if I'd accept anything from that son of a bitch!" she snarled, her eyes blazing.
"Mum, don't be stubborn. If you can fix your face then you won't need to go on hating anymore. You can make peace and then we could be a family again like the Golds—"
"Like the Golds?" she nearly choked. "Have you lost your damned mind, James?"
"No. But I've finally realized what's important," he answered calmly. "And it's not revenge." He took a deep breath. "Mum, I don't hate Mr. Gold. Or my half-brother. They've been decent to me. They could have killed me or thrown me in prison when they found out who I was. They didn't. They gave me dinner and a bed to sleep in and they even had me celebrate their version of Yule with them."
Milah stared at him in horror. "You sound like—like that whelp Baelfire! Always prattling on about making friends and silly stupid nonsense like doing unto others and all that rot! Just like his papa! And look where it got them! Stepped on and treated like trash." She leveled a finger at her son. "And now ye come here and dare tell me to make peace with Rumple?"
"I just thought you could try—"
"You thought? You're not supposed to think, you're supposed to obey! Like a good son!"
"Milah, let the lad speak—"
"Shut up, Killian! I've got the horn now."
"Mum, I'm not a child or a dog, to just blindly do what you say," he snapped back.
"My son wouldn't talk back to his mama like you do!" she roared.
"I'm sorry but you won't let me talk—"
"My son would remember his place among this crew and obey his First Mate. My son would do his duty to this family and kill the bastard who lamed his mama!"
"No!" Jimmy lost his temper. "I can't kill Rumple just because you blame him for something you started. You're the one who ran off and left him, Mum. And Bae. You chose to be someone besides the wife of a spinner. And you chose to interfere in a duel of honor between him and Dad, and that's why your face got burnt."
Milah's mouth worked, but no sound emerged. Finally she stood, in a towering fury, and hissed, "How dare you say such to me? Is this how you repay me?"
Jimmy stood his ground. "It's the truth. You and I both know it. And Dad too, right, Dad?"
Hook tossed back another tot of rum. "Is what right, lad?"
Jimmy sighed sadly. His father drank for pleasure but sometimes he wondered if part of it wasn't to escape his wife and her insane desire to kill Rumple. "Never mind."
Milah stepped up to him and spat in Jimmy's face. "My son wouldn't spout treason and act like a namby pamby weakling! My son knows how to be a man."
"I do know! Just not your kind of man!" he glared back at her.
"That's the only kind worth anything!" she said harshly. "My son wouldn't come here and prattle about magic boxes and a life other than the one he's always known! My son would be loyal and remember his place."
"My place? And just where is that, Mum? Under your boot?" he demanded sarcastically.
"I ought to whip you raw, you wicked scamp!" she cried, and her hand flashed out and slapped him hard across the face.
He didn't move, a red mark glowing across his cheek. "Is that the only answer you have, Mum? To beat me like some puppy? Just because I don't agree with what you've shoved down my throat?"
"Shut up! Just shut the hell up!" she raged. "My son would have no trouble killing Rumplestiltskin. And if you're really my son, then you'll do what I tell you."
Jimmy paled. He swallowed sharply. "No. I can't do that. Because I'm not a murderer."
"Get out!" she shrieked, spittle flying from her lips.
Some of it landed on his suit. "Dammit, why can't you see?"
"Get out!" she howled. "If you won't fulfill your debt I'll find someone who can!"
"Milah, love, calm down," Hook slurred.
"Shut your trap, you sot!" she cried, and threw a shoe at the captain. "When I want your opinion I'll ask for it. Now drink your rum!"
Hook happily went back to slurping down his fourth glass.
Jimmy looked disgusted. "You treat him like a servant. And you wonder why I . . ." he broke off before he said something he'd regret.
"I said get out! You're no son of mine!"
He went deathly pale. "Mum, you don't mean that."
"Don't I?" she screeched. "If you can't act like my son then you're no son of mine! I disown you. I have no son named James." She dusted her hands off as if she brushed away some unwanted dirt.
Pain lanced through him, but it was sharp and he barely felt the blow, though inside he bled as if from a mortal wound. Too proud to show his hurt, Jimmy drew himself up and said, "If that's how you want it. Dad?"
But Hook was so drunk he barely knew his own name. "Wotever ye say, luv."
Jimmy shuddered. "You too? Fine! You can both go to hell! And don't expect to see me there!"
Then he turned and stalked away, his boots echoing hollowly on the wooden planks.
He left the ship unmolested. He felt as if he wandered in a fog but his feet knew the way home, and they took him right back to the Victorian. Feeling slightly sick to his stomach, he knocked on the door, thinking inanely, Least they left a light on for me.
In the distance, the clock tower tolled midnight.
The door was yanked open and he came face to face with a very worried and ticked off sorcerer.
"Mr. Jones, where in hell have you been? It's midnight, young man!"
"I'm sorry, Uncle Rumple," Jimmy babbled. "But I had to go and see her, talk to her . . ."
Rumple's eyebrow vanished into his hair. "Excuse me? You were with a girl?" he sputtered. "Blessed hells, Jimmy! Tell me you didn't get her in the family way."
"Hell no! You don't understand . . ." Jimmy gasped.
"Damn straight. Come inside, lad, before you wake the whole house." Rumple ordered. "My study. Now." His tone left no room for argument.
Within ten minutes Jimmy found himself spilling his guts to the older man over hot cocoa and cookies, as Rumple was fond of midnight snacks, and despite his irritation with his ward he would never starve the young man.
"Then she said . . . she said you're no son of mine . . . and she kicked me off the ship. She didn't want me, Uncle Rumple. Not unless . . . I became her little puppet and did what she wanted." His voice was stark and emotionless, but Rumple could hear the anguish beneath the cool façade.
"To kill me," he responded softly.
Jimmy gulped and nodded. Then he said, his tone hoarse and raw, "I tried . . . I tried to tell her that it was wrong, that the revenge was poisoning her, but she wouldn't listen . . . she wouldn't even think about what I was saying. It was like spitting into a gale. All that mattered was that I wouldn't do what she said. Like a good little boy!" Jimmy snarled, his eyes dark with anger and unshed tears. "Well, I'm not her boy any more, am I?"
"No, son," Rumple said very quietly, his eyes meeting those of his ward. His hand came up and he squeezed Jimmy's own. "Not hers, but mine. If you choose."
"You would—even after she—what the hell, Mr. Gold?"
"I don't care what she said." He brought his other hand up to clasp the younger man's shoulder. "You will always have a home with me, Jimmy. If you want it. It's up to you."
"Thanks, Uncle Rumple." He trembled. "I do."
"Welcome home, lad," murmured Rumple, and then he hugged the distraught teen, who now knowing the security of a home and father who wanted and loved him, gave into the pain that was tearing him apart inside and wept on Rumple's Armani-clad shoulder.
A/N: Sorry for the long delay between updates, dearies. But with the holidays and my being sick for a week with the flu, I'm glad I could finally write this! Hope you all liked my little surprise there. Let me know what you think and what will happen now.