Chapter 5: The swan song

"Hello?"

"Robin?"

"Oh, hi, Princess."

"Don't call me that."

"Relax, I'm just trying to get on your nerves. I know you prefer your other moniker... What is it, again? Warrior."

"It's better than Prince of Thieves."

"No, it's not," he said, leaning back on the chair as he held the cell phoneto his ear. "But anyway, I take it you're calling to check if it's done?"

"Is it?"

"Yes. My retirement act. The swan song."

"Interesting choice of words."

"It is, indeed! Do you think she'll be mad?"

"I hope so. Serves her right for associating with that monster."

"Well, all I know is that I've done my part. Looks like little Roland won't be getting a Playstation 4 for Christmas, after all... But, alas, it's for a good cause."

"You don't get to complain. I hear you already got your annual bonus."

"That I did."

"Lucky you!"

"Oh, here he comes. Gotta go!"

He hung up and pretended to be shuffling through a pile of forms when his boss walked past the glass door leading into his office."

"Good morning, Mr. Jones."

As usual, the man completely ignored him.

"What's your name?"

He turned to look at the girl sitting by the table across from his. It was hard to see her face under the shadow of her hoodm but the very little he could see showed him she was smiling.

No, not smiling. More like smirking.

"Neal."

"No, it's not."

"He raised an eyebrow, and looked around to make sure there was no one else but the two of them in the dining hall.

"It's Baelfire. I read it in your file."

She pulled back her hood to reveal her blond hair, and rested her face on her hand. Her greenish eyes were fiery and daring, even though she looked much younger than him.

"You don't talk much, do you?" she asked.

He lowered his eyes to the table, giving her the silent answer she already knew she would get.

"Why are you here?"

"If you looked at my file," he said, "then you know it already."

And what an interesting file he had. Thrown into the foster system at age ten, then "adopted" by the same man who had destroyed his family, then back at foster homes.

There wasn't much he wanted to talk about.

"Your father's in jail and your mother's dead," she replied, her eyes losing some of their spark as she spoke. "I'm sorry."

"That's ok."

He fidgeted with a loose string of wool hanging from his sweater, trying to clear his mind of certain memories he did not want to revisit.

"What's your name?"

"Emma. Emma Swan."

"Is that your real name?"

And then, she was smiling again, and the spark of defiance was back in her eyes.

"No. And you have no idea as to where they keep the files, do you?"

His lips curled into a half-smile. And so, she liked challenges.

So did he.

"How does it feel?" she asked, after stretching her arms and locking her fingers behind her head. "To be outsmarted by a 13-year old?"

"Are you really 13? You look older."

"You don't look your age, either. Seventeen, is that right?"

"Yup."

"I bet you wish you could take a look at those files now, don't you?"

As she spoke, his eyes drifted from her face to her wrist, which was wrapped in bandages.

"That depends," he replied. "Will they hurt me if I try to?"

Suddenly, the smile disappeared from her face, and she covered her wrist with the sleeve of her sweater as soon as she realized what he was looking at.

Slowly, he stood up and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he walked toward the exit. Before leaving, though, he stopped to whisper something in her ear.

"Your real name is Emma Ruth Nolan, and you were born in Maine on October 22, 1983. Your parents died when you were six and no other relatives claimed you. The files? They're in the second room on the right in the basement, but during the day, a thug that goes by the name Tony keeps guard and I hear he likes to hurt 13-year olds who like to be sneaky."

He could see her swallowing even though she had not turned her head to look at him.

"Be more careful the next time, he said, before pulling up his hood and walking out of the hall.

"Neal?"

It took him a couple of seconds for him to realize who was calling him.

"Hey," he said, straightening himself on the beach chair at the balcony his stepmother had decorated with plants and Christmas lights, though it was still October. "Sorry, I was..."

"... lost in thought? I could see that."

Belle gave him a glass and poured him some wine before taking a seat on the chair by his side.

So that was what they called karma. Out of all the maladies that could afflict him, his knee had gotten ruined.

Turned out that getting knocked out of a car had done nothing but aggravated his injured leg, and know he could barely walk without feeling his knee was being mashed by a hammer. Haha. How hilarious. Father and son working together to make his life hell.

He limped towards the mirror across from his desk, and arched an eyebrow with a smirk.

"Come at me, Lady Fortune. Come at me..." he said, checking his leather pants as he smoothed his blood red satin shirt. "You think you can bring me down? Well, you can't. I got Emma Swan. I got money. I'm past 40 and I still look as hot as hell. I'm invincible."

Just then, his phone rang, and he was forced to limp back to his desk.

"What?"

"Mr. Jones, it's Habitat for Humanity on the line."

"Habi-what?"

"Habitat for Humanity. It's a nonprofit that builds houses for the poor."

"Huh. And what the hell do they want from me?"

"I don't know, sir. Perhaps invite you for one of their fundraising events?"

"I don't go to fundraising events, Robin, how many times do I hav-"

"I apologize, sir," his personal assistant was quick to interrupt. "I reckoned you might take an interest in it because... you know, because of Mrs. Swan. She's rather passionate about the nonprofit cause."

"Hmmm..."

It took him less than a minute to consider that the man had a point, after all. His sex life with his beautiful wife sucked as of lately. Maybe playing the selfless hero would warm her heart (as well as other more interesting parts of her body) towards him?

"Okay," he said at last, slumping onto his presidencial chair. "I'll talk to them."

He tapped his fingers against the surface of his mahogany table as he waited for the call to get transfered.

"Mr. Jones?"

"Yes?"

"My name is Marco, and I speak in behalf of Habitat for HHumanity. How are you today?"

Oh, how he hated those peasants! Especially the ones that sounded so... nice.

"Busy," he snarled in response.

"Oh, I understand, sir, I'll be brief. I'm just calling to let you know we were greatly surprised by your very generous donation to our cause. Please, don't get me worng, sir. It's not as if we ever doubted your genero-"

"Wait, wait," he interrupted, suddenly alarmed at the man's words. "What donation?"

"Of course, I forget! You and your company must support a plethora of other nonprofits, I should have known. I refer to the 64 million dollar donation credited to our account earlier this morning."

Killian Jones felt a very specific part of his body had clenched rather violently.

"We were flabbergasted! It has to be some sort of rec-"

The man's euphoria, however, didn't seem to rub off on him. He hung up, cursing under his breath as he imagined all sorts of blunders that could explain that situation. He most certainly had not made any donations. Luckily, someone at the accountancy would be able to explain what the hell was going on, he thought, as he dialed his bookkeeper's number.

"The Jolly Roger Incorporated, good morning. You have reached the Financial Department, this is Keith speaking. How may I help you?"

"For crying out loud, Keith! Remind me to change that ridiculous greeting, it's revoltingly long!"

"I agree, sir, I've always thought the same. How can I help you, sir?"

Killian frowned for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts.

"Jesus, I don't even remember now!"

"Sorry, sir."

"Oh! I remember. Did you authorize any bank transactions this morning?"

"I did, sir."

"Tell me it didn't happen to be a 64 million-dollar donation to Home Depot."

"No, sir, that was not it," Keith replied, much to the other man's relief. "It was a 64 million dollar donation to Habitat for Humanity."

Killian Jones felt he was about to choke on his tongue.

"Keith?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I did not authorize any donations."

He was trying his best to keep his voice down. It was all a misunderstanding. It had to be.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm looking at the authorization forms right now and they are all signed. And there is a note saying your assistant contacted the back in person to confirm the transaction as well."

"What are you talking ab-"

His voice died in his throat when realization finally hit him.

And when he did, the phone that got tossed across the room was the first to feel his rage.

"Roooobiiiiiiin!"

"You've got a nice little place up here," said Neal, sipping some of the wine as he looked at the plants scattered around the small balcony and the beach-like feel to some of the furniture Belle had arranged."Is this your hideout when my father is being an ass?"

"Bae, stop it!" Belle replied, pushing his arm playfully. "Your father is not an ass."

She drank some of her wine as well, her eyes still sparkling with mischief.

"Well, maybe sometimes."

"My point exactly," he responded, with a chuckle.

"Don't let him hear that."

"Nah. He knows we know it."

"But that we love him regardless," she added. "That is true."

When he turned his head to look at his stepmother, he realized she was staring at him.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing... It's just that I'm not used to seeing you in jeans. You always seem to be wearing a suit and tie when you visit during the week."

"I got fired."

"You did?"

"Yes... And no. Emma told me to hit the road, but David wants me to hang around. And since I'm in his payroll and not in hers... I don't know. I think I still have a job?"

"You look tired."

"Yeah..." he stretched on the beach chair and stifled a yawn before speaking again. "That's because I am tired. Good thing is that Henry is coming over tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? But it's only Wednesday. Is this a new arrangement?"

"No... Emma just... I don't know. She texted me asking if I could watch over him while she... took care of some business. And of course I agreed."

"By the way, what is it I hear Killian got custody rights over Henry?"

"Ah… So you already know."

"Is that even legal? Can he do that?"

"It's not as if he has a problem bending the law, is it?" he sighed. "You remember who his lawyer is."

"Albert Spencer."

The mere mention of that name made his blood boil. He wished he could be as forgiving as Belle, who seemed to have recovered well from Killian Jones shooting her on the back. Of course, the fact his father had been the only witness might not have helped things much, but Jones's fingerprints were all over the place. He didn't even bother denying it, on the very contrary: he remembered how the man had boasted about nearly killing Belle – to the point of almost writing an ode about it to congratulate himself on his bad form.

And yet, in a combination of luck, people's forgetfulness, corruption and lack of logic, he had been pronounced not guilty in court.

Neal downed his wine, biting his tongue not to curse. There were things in life he would never, ever understand.

"Just think about it," he said. "Killian Jones signing my son's report cards… Consent forms for him to travel… It's so humiliating."

"What was the claim?" she asked, refilling her glass as well as his. "For him to even… attempt to get custody, what did he use against you?"

He let out an unhappy sigh after taking a large gulp from his glass. The view from the top of his father's house worked as a nice distraction, his eyes darting from rooftop to rooftop as he spoke.

"He claimed… I was illiterate."

He heard Belle choke by his side, coughing as she wiped the wine that had spilled onto her dress.

"What do you mean, illiterate?"

"As in, lacking the capacity to read and understand forms and other documents."

"You can't be serious."

"That's exactly what I said when Spencer stopped by my place," he replied. "And then he said all I had to do was pass a written test to prove him wrong."

"A written test?" Belle asked, scrunching up her face. "What sort of written test?"

He scratched his neck, wrinkling his nose as he spoke.

"A one-page summary of Finnegans Wake."

"What?"

When he looked at the woman by his side, he realized her jaw had dropped.

"Yeah."

"But that's impossible! Even for people who have been studying Joyce for ages!"

"Like you."

"Like me, yes," she replied, still sounding deeply shocked by his reveal. "It just can't be done!"

He smiled lightly, feeling a little bit better in spite of the very vivid memory of the humiliating moment when he handed the blank page back to Jones's lawyer.

"I just... I wish I had studied more," he whispered, looking at his own feet as he spoke. "I should've gone to college, I should have found a way..."

"You can still go to college if you want to."

As usual, Belle's voice was understanding and full of affection. He really didn't know what he would have done if Killian had managed to off her - her constant support and company, sometimes, were pretty much the only things that kept him from falling apart at the seams.

"College is for kids," he said, shaking his head. "I'm too old now."

"Too old? You're 33!"

"Yeah, I am... And you should see the looks I get when I say I barely made it through high school..."

"Baelfire," Belle responded, resting a hand over his, "you should see the looks I get when I say I'm married to an ex-convict who's... decades older than me."

He closed his eyes when she squeezed his shoulder, trying to offer him some comfort.

"It doesn't matter what other people say."

"I know," he replied, feeling his voice starting to catch on his throat. "I just... I just wanted Henry to be proud of me. Being labeled illiterate does not sound like the way to go."

He cleared his throat, trying to look as if the words leaving his lips didn't affect him at all, but his slightly moist eyes gave him away.

"There's something else bothering you, isn't there?" Belle whispered, her hand once again covering his. "Is it Emma?"

He pouted, dropping his gaze to the floor and saying nothing for a very long minute.

"Every time I look at her all I can see is everything we could have been but weren't..." he replied, his voice quiet and throaty as he stared at the concrete under his feet. "She's... changed. And in the four years I've worked for the Nolans... For the first time, I think... I think I lost her for good."

He sniffed, gulping the rest of his wine to stifle a sob.

"Gee," he said, a bright, forced smile curling his lips when he looked at his stepmother. "This damn wine, what the hell, Belle?"

"I hear its tannins open up lacrimal ducts," she replied, with an even wider smile. "I should have warned you."

"Thank you. I don't... I don't know what our lives would be without you."

"Oh... I bet you would have a lot of fun without me."

"When you got shot... I swear, if you had died..."

"I didn't, okay? I didn't. I'm here, and I'm fine."

There was a moment of silence in which the two of them simply stared at the skyline ahead, the sound of cars driving past in the street below a faint reminder of their daily routines.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Does Tamara know?"

"What?"

"That you still love Emma?"

As if he wasn't feeling bad enough about himself already.

"I'm such a creep, aren't I?"

"You're complicated. I think you took after your father."

"I suppose..."

"But... Seriously... You never actually told me how you and Tamara ended up engaged. You just said the two of you met in Brazil."

"Ahh... That's ... complicated."

Belle tilted his head to look at him with a smirk.

"Now you just piqued my interest."

"Nah... You have your post-doc to finish, I don't want you t-"

"My post-doc can wait. Unless, of course, you're not comfortable talking about it."

His gaze dropped to the floor again as he thought about it. If there was anyone who he knew he could open up with, it had to be Belle.

"Well, then," he said at last, reaching for the bottle of wine they had just emptied, "you'd better open another one of these, because it's gonna be a hell of a long story."

A/N: Off to a Neverland flashback next chapter! Hope you're all ready for a little twist.