A/N: This was an old request but an idea finally came to me. I am messing with canon on this, but I think you will agree that this is pretty good. I hope you like it!
Sherlock Holmes
belle'sdarkangel prompted: Their memories returned, but not the way you expected them. (Rated K+)
The Case of the Cursed Town
By: A.U. Gold ?
My dear readers.
The recent turn of events had been extraordinary, and frankly speaking, indescribable. Sometimes I don't know what to do or how to behave or even what name to go by.
But I am getting ahead of myself.
Allow me to backtrack to six months ago. It was around the time that Ms. French and I solved young Henry Mills's case of the missing storybook. He had been quite anxious to find his book, and it was with the brilliant deductive skills of Ms. French that the book was recovered.
What I didn't reveal were the events that occurred afterwards.
Once Ms. French and I returned to my shop to continue our friendly debate, Mr. Mills took it upon himself to purchase a bus ticket with his teacher's, Ms. Blanchard, credit card. This little excursion of his had been in the works for a while now, which didn't come to light until his purpose showed up.
As I mentioned in my last story, Henry Mills was adopted. I had assisted in the process much to my disregard for Mayor Mills. Sometimes I wondered why I had gotten involved, but writing this now with the current knowledge in mind, it makes sense. It was destiny.
Alas, I'm too far again. My apologies.
Anyways, the adoption was a closed one. The mother wanted no contact, which satisfied Mayor Mills. No doubt she didn't want to deal with the competition of a biological parent. Henry officially became a Mills and it was happily ever after. At least that is how Mayor Mills would have preferred. However, Henry is very perceptive for one his age and you did not need Ms. French's deduction to figure out he was adopted. Furthermore, the harmonious Mills household was losing steam and Henry was prone to spend more time away from home rather than in it.
In addition, Henry Mills decided to look for his birth mother. How he was able to uncover the information despite the conditions of the closed adoption will be a mystery to me. Ms. French would say the computer age generation could find anything. I suppose a ten-year-old could outsmart the system. And he must have as the bus ticket was for Boston.
Henry Mills found his birth mother and he was determined to bring her back to Storybrooke.
Why is this important? What does a mother giving up her child have to do with this story? It happens all the time, you might say. How could this situation be different?
The answers to all these questions and more are… yes. This is important and this is different.
Thus our story truly begins.
It was Rent Day and as landlord it was my duty to go around and collect the monies from my tenants. I stopped at Granny's Bed and Breakfast first, and it was where I had the fortune to meet Henry's birth mother.
Emma Swan.
There was something oddly familiar about the name, but I brushed it off as something I must have heard somewhere. Ms. Swan was charming in a straightforward way and quite honest in her comments. There were no bars when it came to her opinion, and I briefly thought how Ms. French would find Ms. Swan's perspective refreshing. The other observation I made was her age. She was attractive with wavy blonde curls and young to be a mother of a ten-year-old. Not to say such a thing is impossible, but it did make me wonder if her decision to give Henry up was because she had been a teenager. If Ms. French was here she would have been able to determine her reasons.
As it was only I… I hypothesize that Ms. Swan was a daughter of a pastor. Given her air of defiance and rebellious glint in her eyes it made perfect sense. Growing up with limitations and restrictions she chose the ultimate act to demonstrate her recalcitrance that only a good Christian girl would do. As a result, her family put pressure on her to give up the child to avoid the scandal of a daughter having a child out of wedlock. It was possible the adoption was done with her parents' doing and the closed adoption made it impossible for her to make contact. So she left her parents' house as soon as she was able and has been living on her own.
Until her son found her.
Now she was in Storybrooke to get to know the son she was denied ever knowing. It would seem Mayor Mills had competition after all.
I wanted to impress Ms. French with my deduction and the only way to validate my theory was to ask the source. As I waited for Mrs. Lucas to gather the money, I told her I was very sorry that her family forced her to give up Henry. She looked at me unblinking while her forehead creased in confusion.
"Pardon?"
"This is a small town. Henry's disappearance spread like wildfire, and the only logical explanation was that he went searching for you. His biological mother. We don't often, I should say, ever get visitors in Storybrooke. Your presence clearly indicates you are the birth mother since he left with the intention in finding you. Furthermore, I would assume you to be in your mid to late twenties, which would approximately put you as a teenager when you've given birth. The adoption was a closed one and with such terms and conditions it is safe to say your parents had a hand in it."
She continued to look at me strangely. "That is quite an assumption you made Mister…?"
"Gold," I supplied. "Mr. A.U. Gold."
"You're kidding," she said. "Lord, your parents had a weird sense of humor. What does the 'U' stand for?"
"Ulysses."
"You had no chance in the playground, huh? Well, Mr. Gold, you have it all wrong. My parents didn't force me to do anything. I have no parents. And as for my reasons wanting a closed adoption was mine alone. Yeah the kid found me. Yeah I came here to drop him off. But I will be leaving as soon as I can check out."
I could not let my disappointment show that my observations were off. Although it was a pity she was leaving so soon, it wasn't my place to suggest she stay for the boy's sake. As fond of Henry as I am, I was thinking maybe Mayor Mills was the better option for him after all. His mother clearly had no interest in getting to know him and I felt sorry for Henry. No doubt he had built up in his mind how the reunion would have gone with his birth mother staying so they could have a relationship. If I ever had a son… I would want to spend every waking second with him.
Mrs. Lucas returned with the rent and handed it to me. "It's all accounted for," she assured me as I bowed my head in thanks.
I pocketed the money inside my coat and faced Ms. Swan. "It was a pleasure meeting you," I told her. "I do hope you change your mind. Henry is a terrific boy. Don't regret the chance to know him." I shook her hand and took my leave, all the while Ms. Swan continued to stare after me.
I didn't dally for I had other places to visit. As soon as I made my rounds, I stopped at the bank to make a deposit, and then I headed to the library. Normally, I would return to the pawn shop, but I wanted to speak to Ms. French and hear her thoughts about Storybrooke's latest guest.
When I arrived, Ms. French was at the circulation desk; her glasses perched on her nose as she scrutinized the book she was currently reading.
"Is it any good?" I asked.
"Define 'good,'" she replied dryly. "The plot is convoluted, the characters are not as fully developed as they should be, and I cannot understand the life of me as to why the protagonist fancies herself in love with this man when she clearly stated she knew him to be a cad. He even broke a woman's heart!" Closing the book, Ms. French shook her head. "I keep hoping it will get better. That somehow the author will redeem this off-the-wall storyline. I'm afraid I will be disappointed, but what kind of librarian would I be if I did not finish it?"
"Certainly a dedicated one."
She laughed. "Right you are Mr. Gold. What can I do for you?"
"Well, I was wondering if you heard about our guest staying at Granny's."
"I might have heard there was someone staying. But other than that, I don't know anything else."
So it would appear I knew more than Ms. French! I could not contain my smile. "She happens to be Henry Mills's birth mother. Ms. Emma Swan."
As soon as I uttered Ms. Swan's name, Ms. French took a step back as her hand went to her head. "Are you unwell?" I asked in concern for she looked faint.
"I'm well. Really I am." She gave me a small smile of reassurance and I didn't know what to do other than stand there like a fool. "I'm all right Mr. Gold. Stop looking so tense."
"My apologies," I murmured.
"Ms. Emma Swan, huh? Interesting name."
"I suppose so," I said, unsure of Ms. French's meaning. "I've collected the rent for the day. Has anyone come to us with a case?"
"Not yet. I'm sorry Mr. Gold but something unexpected just came up. Perhaps we can postpone teatime for later?"
Teatime was always at two o'clock and it wasn't even half past ten. Whatever she had to do, she intended it was going to interfere with our tea. I acquiesced and bid her a good day as Ms. French proceeded to close the library. In all the years I have known her, she closed the library early only once and that was due to a sudden illness. I knew not what to make of her odd behavior, but I trusted her. She will tell me when she was ready.
I went to my shop and stayed there. I had a couple customers who sold a couple of trinkets but other than that the day was slow. I wished that whatever errand Ms. French was on would not detain her any longer than necessary. It was closer to six, four hours later, when Ms. French showed up for tea.
"Sorry for the late hour but I brought this to make up for it." She lifted a to-go bag from Granny's. One whiff and I instantly knew what it was: cheeseburgers and fries. Not exactly the kind of food one has with tea, but I certainly was not going to complain.
"I haven't set the back table up," I told her. "I didn't know what time you would arrive."
"It's no bother. Allow me if you don't mind starting the tea?"
We went to our tasks—I with the tea, Ms. French with setting the table and arranging our meals. The kettle didn't take long to boil and I poured out our cups with a little bit of cream and sugar for Ms. French, and cream for me. I set our saucers down and took my seat whilst Ms. French did the same.
"Were you able to get done what you needed to do?"
Her lashes flickered as she took her sip. "I'm sorry?"
"Your unexpected business," I reminded her. Ms. French gave a little chuckle.
"Ah, actually, I think it is a success. Time will tell I'm afraid."
"Oh? Do you mind if I ask what it is?"
"Let me ask you this, Mr. Gold," she said. "Have you ever noticed how the clock-tower hasn't worked?"
I frowned. "Truthfully it never has as I recall. Why?"
"Do you not find that strange?"
I shrugged. "I guess it might be. I assumed the repairs would cost too much."
"It's an old clock to be sure. But how come no one has seen you about searching for the best offer in parts? Antiques are your specialty and this falls under that category."
"I don't know Ms. French," I admitted. I was somewhat befuddled with this sudden interrogation. "To what is the purpose of these questions?"
"How long have we known each other?" she went on without answering.
"A long time but again I don't—"
"Do you find it odd you cannot pinpoint exactly how long it's been?"
Truthfully, I was at a loss. "Ms. French, I must insist on knowing your meaning here. I don't know how long we've known each other, and I don't think there is anything wrong with that. I like thinking we're such good friends that we don't need to assign a numeric passage."
There was a flash of dismay in her blue eyes and I felt the disappointment acutely. Whatever I was supposed to say I didn't. I didn't even know what she was getting at but I knew she was trying to tell me something important. Something I should have noticed or at least cared to question.
"Let's talk about Emma Swan," she said brightly, changing the subject. "She seems like an interesting person. And that name! I always thought Emma was a pretty name. It is one of my favorite Jane Austen's novels as you know." She leaned across the table, those inquisitive, keen eyes monitoring my reaction very closely. "Come to think of it… I believe Emma was also the name of the main character in Madame Bovary."
I nodded slowly. "Yes I believe you're right."
"Even Charlotte Bronte had a novel called Emma. It was incomplete though."
"You seemed to be fascinated with the name," I observed.
Once more, I was struck with the impression that I failed whatever it was that Ms. French was trying to do. She quietly sipped her tea and then took a bite out of her cheeseburger. After swallowing, she said, "I suppose I am. Perhaps if I ever get around writing that great American novel I will name the main character Emma."
I picked up a fry and busied myself with my meal. I wished I could have given her what she wanted, but Ms. French was inclined not to be explicit with her hints. However, I was not to be dissuaded.
"Have you met Ms. Swan?"
Ms. French nodded. "I did. A bit guarded with her words and body language. I have no doubt she had been hurt in the past. In fact, I believe she never had a single person in her life to support her. As for love… Well, she had a great love, and something tragic happened and she prefers not to be reminded of it. It explains her less than enthusiastic reaction when Henry found her. Such a shame, really. I know she was young when she had him, and I do believe her intentions had been honorable."
"Honorable? Ms. French, she gave up her child with no contact ever. Even though she drove him back home, she planned on leaving right away. This morning she said as soon as it was checkout time she was heading back to Boston."
She shrugged with a smidgen of a smile. "I believe Ms. Swan will not leave Storybrooke. We had an interesting conversation and I know she also met Henry's teacher, Mary Margaret Blanchard. Remember she was the one who gave Henry the storybook he was so keen on finding. And let's face it… there is something likeable about Henry. I saw in Ms. Swan's eyes she was starting to soften at the mention of Henry. Regardless of her guarded state of mind, she will do the right thing for her son. She did when he was a baby."
"I'm afraid that is where we will disagree. I cannot imagine giving up a child for whatsoever reason. I will do everything in my power to make it work. Even if I was in the poorhouse and living in squalor conditions, I will find a way to give my son anything he needs."
She perked. "You said 'son.' Why?"
"Well… I don't know. I always thought if I had a child it would be a boy. Girls are fine too, please do not mistake my meaning, but I fancied myself having a boy. I will get this picture in my head where I'm with this small boy with dark, unruly hair and the brightest smile I have ever seen. Almost like Henry's smile. But being a father has not been in the cards for me sadly."
Ms. French nodded in understanding. "I think you would make an excellent father. You have a big heart with the capacity to love wholly and patiently. You are loyal and kind and will make the necessary sacrifice to help your loved ones."
Her assessment of my character left me blushing for it was too generous and nice of her to say. I honestly would not know if I would make the "necessary sacrifice" that she alluded to. I never was in a position to sacrifice anything. Although, I would like to think I would step up and do the brave and noble thing if required. As for the rest of her estimation to my disposition, I do feel like I am capable of such feelings. I know that if anything happened to her… I would not hesitate to give her my last breath.
Of course, she is my only and dearest friend. That alone means I would do anything for her as she would do for me.
"You are very thoughtful Ms. French. I don't know if such praises are well-deserving, but they are appreciated."
"Why, Mr. Gold, I do believe you sell yourself short," she teased. "Now, did you acquire any interesting items today?"
Like that, we were back to our old and familiar camaraderie. Not another word was spoken about Ms. Emma Swan or Henry or the clock. I felt more like myself and confident as I launched into my story about my latest acquisition. The previous notion that I disappointed her still lurked in the back of my thoughts, but I was able to put it behind me for now.
Of course, what I did not know was that Ms. Belle French had set in motion a particular set of events that would change Storybrooke forever. As we sat in my backroom with our cheeseburgers, fries, and tea and bantered, Emma Swan was speaking to Regina Mills about whether or not she loved Henry. From there she returned to the inn and proceeded to tell Mrs. Lucas she was going to stay for a week.
Ms. French and I concluded our dinner and late tea. She helped me close up the shop and as we walked out the door with her hand on my arm, we heard the most peculiar sound. The clicking of gears echoed the quiet street and I lifted my eyes towards the clock-tower. To my complete and utter amazement, the clock's hand shifted from 8:15 to 8:16.
Ms. French's touch tightened as she looked up with excitement glowing in her features. "Just as I thought Mr. Gold. I do believe Ms. Swan is going to stay in Storybrooke."
"How do you know that?" I asked her.
She simply laughed. "Why… it's elementary my dear Mr. Gold. But I will explain it to you later when the time is right."
xxXXxx
Unfortunately, the time never seemed to be the right one. Every time something would come to pass that Ms. French had inadvertently predicted or briefly commented she would have this knowing smile like she knew this great secret but was refusing to tell anyone.
Not even me.
For you see readers, Ms. Swan did decide to stay in Storybrooke. Her week visit became another week. Then another. Eventually, Mayor Mills was starting see she was a threat to her relationship with her son and was doing everything in her power to get her to leave. She had even forced Mrs. Lucas to remove her from the B&B due to a "no felon staying in public buildings" ordinance. I had never heard this ordinance before, but Ms. French told me that it was passed through within twenty-four hours after Ms. Swan was arrested by Sheriff Graham for allegedly stealing files from Dr. Hopper on Henry.
The lengths Mayor Mills was taking to force Ms. Swan to leave was incredible. Never had I seen her so determined, so hell-bent that I was worried for Ms. Swan.
"Do not worry Mr. Gold. Ms. Swan is built with sturdier skin. She will not back down from Regina," Ms. French assured me.
And Ms. Swan did not.
Within hours of being kicked out from the inn, she found a place to stay with Ms. Mary Margaret Blanchard. The two women hit it off from what I understand, and Ms. Blanchard even put up the bail for Ms. Swan when she was arrested. Ms. French, as was her habit lately, continued to smile that knowing smile as she was delighted when she heard the news.
"They have quite a bit in common," she said. "I would have been disappointed if Mary Margaret did not offer Ms. Swan to be her roommate."
If I questioned why, Ms. French would say, "Later Mr. Gold. I will tell you why later."
I normally don't lose my temper but I was becoming exceedingly frustrated with Ms. French and her infernal secrets! Ever since Ms. Swan arrived, Ms. French had been spending her time with her and Henry, and I even observed Ms. French visiting Mayor Mills! Now, she disliked the mayor as much as I do, but Ms. French was usually reserved when expressing her feelings. Now it was almost unrecognizable as Ms. French was taunting Mayor Mills.
Yes, you heard me.
Taunting.
This was not at all like the Belle French I knew for years. I was so shocked and stunned that I hid myself so she would not see me. I could not fathom these changes and I was becoming concerned that something foreboding was going on. After all, Ms. French had not enlisted me in any cases to be solved since Ms. Swan's arrival. All her energy and time was dedicated to ensure Ms. Swan stayed in Storybrooke and goaded Mayor Mills in the process.
When Sheriff Graham had unexpectedly died of cardiac arrest, it was Ms. French who endorsed Ms. Swan as the new Sheriff much to Mayor Mills's chagrin. She campaigned hard for the newcomer and it was with the luck of certain circumstances that Ms. Swan became the newly elected Sheriff of Storybrooke.
I must admit I was feeling rather left out and a bit childish for not spending time with Ms. French. I missed our little adventures and trying to do them without her was no fun. I did not possess her intuitive abilities or logical skills. I fear I left more than one unhappy person with my meager attempts.
I wanted to tell Ms. French how I felt, but the words would not come to me. I felt rather silly and ridiculous and more like a petulant child whose favorite toy was taken away. As Ms. French was someone I highly respected, I was mad at myself for assuming she would always want to spend time with me. I could not assume that I was the only person in her life because I wasn't. She had other friends she spent time with and it never bothered me so why Ms. Swan? Why was this bothering me?
"Everything will make sense later. I promise."
I lost count the number of times Ms. French spoke those words. It became a point that her words were meaningless. I believed she was humoring me with her insistence she will tell me what was going on just so I would accept it and move on.
But I could not.
If Ms. French could not confide in me, then I was going to figure out her secret. I would not be kept in the dark no more.
One day I decided to follow her. It was not easy with my limp and cane, especially as Ms. French was moving as if she was on a mission.
First, she went to Granny's inn. I knew there was another guest that was staying in town… an August Booth. When she left, her forehead was creased as if she was deep in thought. She seemed troubled and I wished to reveal myself to find out what the problem was. However, I remembered my purpose and stuck to it.
From there, she went to the convent. She held back as Mr. Booth was leaving the building, and when he was gone, she went inside. She was there no less than five minutes and this time her countenance was queer-looking. She did not seem troubled or worried but rather curious and wary and hopeful. I could not discern why this myriad of emotions but whatever it was… Ms. French was on the trail of something. I pondered if this August Booth was responsible for something as I met him only once and he seemed to me more of a cad and imposter. I did not like him for reasons that were unknown to me so I continued my pursuit with interest.
It was getting dark so keeping up with Ms. French became more of an obstacle. But I managed to follow her into the forest where she met up with Mr. Booth. For a second, I was dumbfounded. This had every appearance of a clandestine meeting and I felt like an intruder stepping into something that was intimate. This pained me in ways I could not explain. This Booth character was a stranger and why Ms. French was meeting with him at this hour was beyond me.
I came to the realization that part of Ms. French's secret must be that she was interested in this man. Why else would she go through all this trouble to keep it private? I knew that I lost her because I was a coward and kept my feelings for her to myself instead of telling her how I felt.
Indeed my readers. I came to the conclusion that I was in love with Ms. French at that moment. Such poor timing on my part that every inch of me wanted to flee.
Yet… something happened. Something amazing and horrifying.
"I found that picture of the dagger in your room. I was somewhat confounded how you could have possibly known about it until I spoke to Mother Superior. You're here to look for your father."
It wasn't a question but a statement.
"Yes."
"You had the chance to speak to him. I know because he told me how he met you in the diner. You did not give a good first impression."
"It's not easy. To look into his eyes and see no recognition." His tone was accusatory as if he blamed Ms. French for his father not knowing him. That was ridiculous if he thought she could have something to do with that.
"Believe me, this wasn't my intention. I tried to spare him the best I could, but you know how stubborn he is. He refused to leave my side."
"Yeah… just like before. He wouldn't leave your side then."
She flinched back with hurt. "That is not fair. I tried to protect you both. You were always dear to me as was your father. I loved you as if you were my son."
"I'm not."
"I know." She lowered her face. "Not a day goes by that I regret what happened. Your father was never the same since the incident. Please… whatever you do, do not blame him."
"How can I not? He chose you!"
"No! He tried to pull you out, he did! I tried to help as he was slipping too… Then he lost his grip and you—"
"I don't want to hear anymore. You have done enough damage already. He doesn't even know me!"
"He doesn't know that he has a son. It seemed like a kindness when this Curse was planned. But I see now what a terrible mistake that was." Lifting her face, I could see the shimmering trail of tears from the moonlight and I was struck how lovely she was even in her anguished state. But whoever this man was… this father… I could not help but feel pity for him and his son. Yet what they said made little to no sense at all.
"How can I make it up to you?" she asked.
"You can by returning his memories."
"I tried. The switch worked for me and it was supposed to work on him too, but something must have happened that bumble it."
"Well… there is one other thing. The dagger."
"The dagger?"
"If you really regret what you did to us, then you will give me the dagger as a sign of your trust. I'm sorry if I was harsh towards you, but you have to understand my side…"
"Of course. I do understand. But Baelfire—"
"No 'buts.' If you loved my father like you said back then, then you will do this."
Baelfire.
I couldn't understand why… but there was something about that name that struck a chord with me.
"Very well. But you need to do something for me in return."
"I don't think you're in a position to make a deal with me."
"It's not. All I want you to do is give your father another chance. He may not remember but he loves you. Maybe that could help restore Mr. Gold's memories."
A chill went down my spine. Mr. Gold… That was me!
I staggered back reeling from this shocking revelation. I have a son… How? How was such a thing even possible when I had no recollection? How could I forget?
None of it made sense!
And yet…
Baelfire.
It was an unusual name but something about it had my heart tugging with longing. It was as if you remembered something from the past and you have this yearning for it. I could not explain why I felt a connection.
"Baelfire…" I whispered softly. I could practically hear the gears in my mind shifting, clicking in the hopes something would trigger a memory. But something was blocking it. Something didn't want me to remember.
I fought hard, pushed with all my might with Baelfire repeating on a loop. The buzzing in my ears began to grow louder and then something at last shifted so a piece would connect.
And it did.
Like a light-switch, I was undulated with memories from a distant time in a faraway place, as if I was waking from a dream. And indeed, I felt like I had been asleep for almost an eternity.
There were so many images! I had to focus on the pieces coming back to me.
Baelfire was definitely the forefront. And he looked like the dream child I had always wanted with this wild mane of hair and intelligent eyes. He was dressed in rags but he seemed happy, carefree. Loved.
I looked down at myself and instead of seeing my suit… I saw myself in rags too. My cane was a walking stick and my hands were calloused from spinning wool all day long.
A name…
I was trying to remember my name…
Not A.U. Gold… No. That man didn't exist, not really. R. I could see an R forming in my head. Then a voice. A gentle, lilting voice that caressed each letter of my name. A voice that sparked feelings of love, of passion, of lust.
It was Ms. French's voice!
Rumplestiltskin.
I silently mouthed the word.
Rumplestiltskin.
That was my name. That was me. I have a son named Baelfire. I am a spinner. I am a veteran of the Ogres War. That was where I obtained my injury. I lamed myself to be with my son who was only a baby. I was a disgrace to my village but I did not care. I had my son. Baelfire. I lost him. He went to another world. A world without magic.
Then Ms. French appeared in my memories but it wasn't Ms. French.
It was her but not her.
She had these scales covering her body. Only they weren't really scales but they looked reptilian-like. They were beautiful. Green that sparkled like gold. Blue eyes almost feline that burned brightly in the dark. Sad, lonely. She was the Dark One. She was my mistress. She saved me from being beaten to death when they tried to take my son away to fight. She took us in, gave us shelter, food, clothes. She was kind to us. She wasn't evil as the stories said. She was misunderstood.
I loved her.
She loved me.
She loved Baelfire.
Baelfire loved her.
Baelfire wanted to save her.
The bean.
It was becoming crystal clear what happened that night. Baelfire wanted us to become a real family, but Belle was cursed with dark magic. True Love's kiss did not work because the dagger would not free her. So he found another way. The bean would open a portal to a land without magic and Belle's curse would no longer have its hold on her. But it was a trick. The Blue Fairy feared Belle, believing she was a threat when Belle had done no wrong. Bae… he fell and I grabbed his hand but his hand was so small… slipping… he was slipping from me and I tried to hold him the best I could but my ankle… it gave out and I was falling but Belle… she caught me… she tried pulling us out but Bae… he wasn't strong… his hand slipped through mine and he was gone.
The portal closed.
My boy was gone and I couldn't hold onto him like I should have.
But there was a way back to him.
Belle said there was a Curse that could transport us there but she couldn't cast it. Someone else had to and then I remembered Regina, the Evil Queen, and her hatred and desire for revenge on Snow White. She cast the Curse that sent all of us to this world. So Belle and I could find Bae and be a family once more.
Then everything made sense.
Did Bae truly hold a grudge against Belle? It wasn't her fault but I could tell she held herself accountable for it. I wanted to tell Bae that if he wanted to pin the blame on someone it should be me. I was the one who let him go. Not Belle.
By the time I was cognizant, I realized that Belle and Bae were gone. Then I remembered he was asking for her dagger, which I found very odd. What use was there for him to have her dagger? Magic didn't exist here. Surely he wasn't planning on gaining control of her…
It dawned on me.
This wasn't Bae. My son wouldn't control her. And he would know he couldn't because that was the point of this land. No magic.
I feared Belle was in trouble. Whoever this imposter was he was preying on her guilt.
I tracked them down to a spot where at the base of a giant oak I saw Belle and the liar digging.
But it was too late.
Before I could call out to her, Belle had picked up the dagger and handed it to the imposter.
"NO!" I shouted half-running half-stumbling but I got their attention. Belle was startled and Booth could see this charade was over. I snatched the dagger from him and hobbled to Belle so she could have her dagger back. "You're not my son," I told him. "Bae knows you cannot control the Dark One without magic. And this world has no magic."
I heard Belle gasping and I knew that she knew I was my old self. As for the fake Bae, he knew he should come clean. For you see, dear readers, August Booth was actually Pinocchio. He was sent to our land before the Curse as was Emma Swan to be her protector. Unfortunately, he failed in his task and abandoned her as a baby. Grant it he was only a child but it took an unexpected wake-up call for him to return to make amends and help in breaking the Curse.
As for his deceit, well, August was turning back into a wooden puppet. He wanted the process to stop and he thought if he could control Belle she could turn him back into a human.
Belle did not get upset with him, but she did blatantly tell him that if she had her powers, then she would have helped him if he only asked. This tidbit gob smacked Booth and he realized how foolish his folly had been. But we did decide to work together as a team to help Emma fulfill her role as the Savior to break the Curse, restore everyone's memories, and return home.
Once Booth went his separate way, Ms. French and I were alone. Regardless of my formerly lost memories, I was still feeling internally conflicted. I was Rumplestiltskin and Gold. My perceived reality had been a constant for the last twenty-eight years (yes… I finally realized how much time had passed), and my actual reality was an intruder. It was difficult to discern who I really was when both sets of memories were warring for domination. In addition I was resorting back to Ms. French in my mind. I was torn on what to call her as she was my lover and my friend.
I could not look at her not because I felt she was responsible (she was not) but I was feeling timid. When I looked at her I saw those lovely scales quivering under my touch. I knew I was scarlet from the heated memory, but I didn't know what to say anymore. Where do I stand? Did she see me as a lover or just a friend? Then I remembered her words she spoke to Booth about having me forget my son out of kindness. I had no doubt she had good intentions, but it did fill me with a silent anger. I never asked for such a wish. When she had gone over the details of the Curse with me prior to the casting, she never said she was going to take the memory of Bae away. She said I was going to have a good life and that I was going to want for nothing.
She was right. I did. However, I did not have my son. Not even a ghost.
"Why?" I finally said. "Why did you take him from me?"
I could hear her sucking in her breath and I snuck a glance to see she had her eyes shut painfully. At last… she spoke. "Since that night, you were never the same. You were constantly pacing the castle restlessly and aimlessly. You hardly spoke, let alone ate. And late at night you would cry for him. It broke my heart because I looked at Bae as if he was my son too. I was aching, grieving. And though I know you never said it… I felt responsible for what happened. He was trying to break my curse. I was meant to be the one to go into that portal and be lost forever. Not him. I didn't want you to keep hurting the way you did. You were wasting away Rumple and it was my fault."
She broke down and wept, and I instantly took her in my arms. "Shh." I cooed, holding her to my breast, stroking her hair. "It's not your fault Belle," I told her. "If anyone has to blame himself, it's me. I let him go. I am his father and I wasn't strong enough to hold him. I was sad he was gone but I was angrier with myself for being the one responsible. That was why I couldn't eat. I didn't feel like I deserved to live. Until—" She lifted her tearful face as I smiled softly. "Until you told me there was a way to find him. That renewed my spirits. You saved me from my self-destruction Belle. And I know we will find him."
Belle sniffed. "I wanted to make you happy. I know I was wrong now. But can you forgive me?"
"Yes," I breathed. "I forgive you."
She closed her eyes again. This time relief spread across her forehead. "I'm sorry I couldn't wake you sooner. The key wouldn't work."
Ah, the key. Emma. Hearing her name should have awakened me as it did with her.
"I think subconsciously I wanted my life to be exactly like this Curse," I murmured. "It was easy to wish than know the real pain of loss."
"But what triggered it? If Emma didn't work…"
I chuckled. "Baelfire. Hearing his name helped me return. Of course, it's all very muddled. I know I'm Rumplestiltskin but—"
"But Mr. Gold is fighting to exist?" she offered. "I understand. I feel the same. It will take time to adjust I promise."
"That's good." Looking at her, I added, "Do you think we can still solve mysteries after this Curse breaks?"
Belle laughed. "If you like my dear Mr. Rumple. Now, we do have a Curse that needs breaking, a Savior that needs believing, and a son that needs finding. Are you up to the challenge?"
I bowed. "I am ready for anything that awaits us Ms. French."
xxXXxx
It was an arduous task, but we did it. Or more like Regina did it. If she hadn't poisoned the apple, then Henry wouldn't have ate it to convince his birth mother everything he had said was true. And Emma wouldn't have reached the conclusion that she was the Savior and she believed and loved Henry with her whole heart. Her True Love's kiss woke Henry from his sleeping curse, and it woke the town of Storybrooke with their actual memories.
We still have a long road ahead of us to sort out the real from the false memories and then decide who we want to be. I am currently in the midst of my identity crisis, but with Belle's help… I am putting together the man that I always wanted to become. The best of both worlds if you will. I'm sure there are many of you who are struggling with the same obstacles as I, but know this, you are not alone.
Furthermore, I have no doubt that this does not end our saga. Belle and I have a son to find, which we intend to do once I finish this story.
So I shall end this story in optimism that everything will work out. And I think I shall add my name that I selected. It is a mouthful but Belle loves it. Plus, it's the identity I had for so long and I could not part with it.
The End… for now.
Rumplestiltskin Adam Ulysses Gold
Yes… I'm keeping Ulysses.
If you want more, then you know the drill. I hope you enjoyed the little spin and twist I added.