Chapter 31
Storybrooke Sardines 12:40 pm
Emma is hacking into a laptop she found in the cannery office. She has a reasonable hunch as to the owner of the laptop, considering Storybrooke Sardines went out of business right after the curse broke, its owner having realized that he hates the smell of sardines.
Bashful and Happy have arrived to tape off the crime scene and comb it over it for evidence; the ME's team is at work in the canning room. It will be some time yet before the body is removed. Every so often Emma glances up, looking through the office window at the body of the woman who might have become Henry's stepmother.
No, Emma decides, Neal would have figured Tamara out before then.
Emma's phone rings.
"Sheriff? Nibs here. Here, look at this." A photo of a U-Haul is pushed to her. "We found it in an alley off Second and Seymour. It's locked, but it wouldn't be hard to break in, if you want us to. And I think you might want us to. Here." He pushes another photo, this one of a New York license plate.
"Wait," Emma orders. "I'll send David over, and a locksmith. Don't disturb anything."
Storybrooke General, Room 304, 1:05 pm
There's a commotion in the hallway: the voices of three women arguing. One of them threatens to call Security; another says, "I don't think so. I think you'll let her in because it's the right thing to do." Rumple recognizes that voice as Snow's.
"Five minutes," Belle's voice insists.
"No. . . .Wait, Miss! You can't go in there—"
"Listen, Nurse Kelly, I've fought monsters bigger than you. Stand aside or I'll show you how I defeated the yaoguai."
Rumple knows, of course, that there was nothing violent in the way Belle defeated the yaoguai, but Kelly doesn't know that.
Belle sails in and takes her rightful place at his side. "How bad is it?"
He shrugs. "Waiting for some test results. A concussion, a third-degree burn." He grins at her. "I might be walking with a limp from now on."
She chuckles, though she stares at the bruises under his eyes and the lump under the blanket that she realizes is a bandage around his leg. "At least it's your right leg," she offers.
"Will you bring me one of my canes when you come back tonight?"
"Of course. And some soup. I remember the food here tastes like cardboard."
"I was hoping for a steak—just not the New York strip. I've had enough of that city for a while."
"Then I won't bring you Manhattan chowder." Her face darkens. "What happened, Rumple?"
He looks away. This is a test of his ability to keep his vow of honesty, but who would blame him if he says he's just not up to talking about it now? "I heard Henry calling. I found him in one of the canneries: Tamara had him. Mendell had Regina strapped to a table; he was electrocuting her. He got away. I killed Tamara."
She doesn't ask why; looking at his injuries, the answer is obvious, she thinks. She strokes his hand soothingly. "Oh, Rumple, I'm sorry."
She can barely hear his reply, and she can't see his face as his hair shields it from view. "He thinks I murdered her. He thinks that with my magic I could've stopped her without killing her."
"He's wrong."
Rumple's eyes widen and he looks up at her.
"You had no choice. He'll see that, when he overcomes the shock."
His voice falls to a whisper. "Thank you, Belle, for believing in me."
"As you did for me."
They are alone and Belle has closed the door (to which Snow takes no offense; if it was Charming in that hospital bed, she'd want some alone time with him). Freed of the perceived necessity of keeping up his harsh public image (Belle has been steadily chipping away at this notion of his for a long time now, in both worlds), Gold can allow her to see the extent of his worry and his grief over losing Bae yet again to a bad decision.
He can expose his heart to her—but he finds himself unable to. Vulnerability comes with a price he's never been capable of paying, so much higher for him than for other men, no matter which of his many identities he was existing in at the moment. Not even Gold in the cursed days—a human, no different from Hopper or Nolan or Clark or any Storybrooke man—was capable of expressing a full range of emotions: the feelings the town and his own pride (for the curse, for once, had nothing to do with it: the curse dictated that he would be "comfortable" but it was Rumplestiltskin then and Gold now who decided that meant using an unforgiving and unrelenting and seemingly uncaring nature to keep everyone at a distance) expected from Gold were limited to anger, distain and dry sarcasm. And three centuries of living so have left him walled in so deep he can't see the light.
But Belle is blessed with the freedom to feel. Belle, who had become incurably curious about the child Bae from the moment Rumple admitted, hiding behind his hair, "There was a son. I lost him, as I did his mother"; who, as she had pried out of his father fragments of stories about the boy and had assembled them into an entire novel of sacrifice and devotion; who had created a Baelfire in the memory of her imagination and had, in her heart, adopted him as her own, for his father's sake—Belle sinks to a corner of the hospital bed, unable to stand under the weight of her sorrow for the three of them: the father, the son, and the (step)mother-of-the-heart.
As he comforts her (that's backward, an observer would think: it's he who's lost the love of a child, not her), stroking her hair, uttering words whose sounds have more usefulness than the meanings do, her grief strikes a fissure in the fortress he's shut himself behind. The fissure becomes a crack, and through the crack the light pours in. Gold doesn't break: his walls have stood for too many years to fall so easily. But he does, in his own way, grieve with her.
He is sorry for Bae, who's lost a fiancée (though not his True Love: Gold is certain that in time, Bae would have realized that) and who, like his father, is allowing pain to direct his decision-making, and as a consequence is walking away from a family. For Gold can see how it will go, if Bae refuses contact with him: in an effort to avoid Gold, Bae's visits to Storybrooke will grow fewer and shorter; his relationship with Henry, as the boy grows closer to his grampa day by day, will become strained; even Emma, who has no particular loyalty or fondness for Gold, will become impatient with the man who dodges his own father, and doubtful of Bae's capacity for parenting when he himself can't forgive. Bit by bit, the fragile bond between Bae, Emma and Henry will stretch until it finally snaps, and once again, Henry will be fatherless (though young Nolan will fill in as the primary role model) and Bae, familyless. And all for anger.
Gold is sorry for Belle, whose relationship with her own father is strained, and who has been through an undeserved hell for thirty years and could use a happy family to belong to. She will never see the Bae Rumple remembers, and that's a shame. And perhaps hardest on her is that every time her beloved aches for his son, she will ache with him.
But more than anything else, Gold is sorry for himself. Selfishly, he allows Belle to cry on his behalf, until very slowly, he allows the light in to expose his pain.
West Storybrooke 1:30 pm
"Well, at least we've had a thorough tour of this quaint little seaside hamlet," Nibs quips, his hands on his hips as the twins study a street map.
"There are only four streets left," Twin One says.
"Maybe we should stop for lunch," Twin Two says.
"A fine idea," Slightly judges. "We'll split up: half of us keep searching, the other half take an hour lunch. At 2:30 we switch."
"Sounds like a plan," Nibs agrees.
"Fellas, I'm volunteering myself for first lunch," Slightly says. "I want to check on Petey."
No one can object; they've all been a bit worried about their former leader.
Sheriff's Office 2 pm
One of the disadvantages to living in a town that was created by an Evil Queen from another world, Emma discovers, is that it's behind the times. Although a few Storybrooke residents own computers, and a small subset of those surf the Web (using dial-up), there are no techies in town. Emma's about as techie as it gets in Storybrooke, and right now she's having no luck at all hacking into a laptop owned by people who apparently have an IT Department of their own.
She brought the laptop back to her office when its battery gave out and she couldn't find a fuse box to turn the electricity in the cannery back on. Besides, she felt out of sorts, being so far away from the main action. Now she's ensconced in her office, the door closed so that she doesn't have to listen to Hook's double entendres, and with a club sandwich in one hand and the laptop's mouse in the other, she's working her last nerve. When she goes to take a bite and gets a mouthful of mouse instead, she realizes it's time for a break. She pushes away from her desk and checks her text messages.
From David (she knows immediately it's from him because his messages are always in all caps): "19 BOXES OF ELEC. EQUIP. DONT RECOGNIZE ANY OF IT MONITORS? METERS? I DONT KNOW. WILL BRING VAN TO UR OFFICE, WILL CALL UTIL DEPT, GET ELEC ENGNR HERE TO ID THIS JUNK. ALSO 6 BOXES OF PAPER FILES & THOSE KEYCHAIN COMPUTER THINGS. ON R WAY IN."
From Mary Margaret: "Hi honey, Belle and I went to the hospital. I waited outside so Belle could have some alone time with Gold. Nurse wasn't going to let her in—not visiting hour, she said! You should've heard Belle tear her a new tell her off, Belle got to see him for a few minutes then had to let him rest. Poor man has concussion and a 3rd-degree burn on his leg and worst of all (?) his magic is gone. Where are you now? I can bring you some lunch. Love, your mother."
From Leroy: "All roads secure."
From Nibs: "Finished searching Stoker Street. No sign of any disturbance. Proceeding to Mary Shelley Ave." The Lost Boys posse had completed the downtown area then and were starting to search the west side. When this was over, Emma thinks, she owes those boys a beer.
From Dove: "Relocated to my house. More secure than the inn. Henry is welcome to stay here tonight but will need a change of clothes and toys. He's gone through my entire collection of Car & Driver already."
From Ruby: "Lost his scent just outside cannery. Think he got into a car (lots of gas fumes in area). Followed the fumes another two miles headed toward town but lost them. Will join the Lost Boys in their search. Where are they?" Emma forwards Nibs' message to her.
David bursts into the jailroom, the banker's box he's carrying bumping into the wall. He's less graceful than usual because he's tired and hungry. Emma comes out of her office and trades him half her sandwich for the box, which she sets on the deputy's desk. "Files in that one: Regina, Blue, Rumplestiltskin—Emma, they had files on you and Henry too. Photos. Page after page of notes of everything you did, what you ate, when you sleep; like they were zoologists studying lions in captivity."
Emma smiles briefly. "Thanks for making us lions and not orangutans." She adds with a confidence she truly possesses but is too tired to exude: "We'll catch him, don't worry. And Mr. Dove's got Henry in lockdown. There couldn't be a safer place. I'll sleep over there tonight. You know what Henry calls Dove's house? The Fortress of Solitude."
David's lack of reaction reminds Emma once again that Storybrooke isn't part of the world out there. Kind of a shame: David's never read a Superman comic, never seen a Batman movie, knows nothing of this world's fairytale heroes. How can David judge the world out there and make a well thought-out decision about whether to stay or whether to go back to the Enchanted Forest when he hasn't experienced this world in all its beauty, its unique brand of magic? Emma thinks she knows enough now about the EF that she can decide—and it's here she wants to raise Henry.
The notes are dated, locations noted—very research-y, Emma thinks. Very creepy, reading the minutiae of her life behind closed doors. And very scary, reading lists of the places Henry likes to play, his friends, his preferred toys. Maybe she ought to just show this file and the one about Regina to the Evil Queen, then stand back, let the Queen do what she will with Greg. Hook too, since he's conspired with Greg, though that alliance is probably pretty weak. Then Emma sighs. If she really wants to remain in this world, she needs to follow its rules, and she is, after all, the sheriff.
"At least he hasn't left town," David suggests. "Every road's blocked."
"I suppose he could've walked out, called someone to pick him up, but I think he's still here. Hiding, waiting for reinforcements. I think he's an all-for-the-mission kind of guy, not a survivor," Emma speculates.
"He may take another crack at Regina. He's been watching her a long time, knows her haunts, knows that she's alone."
"Or he might want revenge for his girlfriend."
"His what?"
"Slightly saw them together yesterday, in the hotel. Makin' out like there's no tomorrow, and with Neal just four doors down."
"Well," David sighs, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "At least they'll be easy to guard. We just move Regina into Rumplestiltskin's room, or vice versa."
Emma bursts out in a laugh. "Oh, that'll be something to watch. Roller derby without the skates."
David looks puzzled and Emma realizes that once again, he just doesn't get it. She really has to take him to New York for a vacation when all this mess is over. A football game, the subway, a hot dog, a Star Wars movie. Poor guy needs an education.
"Well, I guess I'll get over to the hospital, set up watch."
"Why don't you let Mom take this one? You need to get a hot meal, put your feet up." Emma gives him a little push toward the exit. "Take an hour for lunch, then you can come back and help me go through the contents of that U-Haul. See if we can figure out who pulls Greg's strings."
David quirks an eyebrow. "This wouldn't be because your mom's a natural diplomat and you'd rather have her than me stepping in between Gold and Regina, would it?"
"Well, Dad, if they start throwing TV remotes and lime Jell-o at each other, Mom would talk them down—you'd grab the nearest bedpan and IV pole for a shield and sword and wail on 'em like a pair of dragons."
He reddens. "You know me too well, Emma."
"Like daughter, like father."
Granny's B & B 2 pm
Bae opens the door to his old pal and a bag of takeout from the diner. "You haven't eaten anything today, have you?" Slightly accuses.
"I had breakfast," Bae argues. He glances at the wind-up alarm clock on the nightstand. "Eight hours ago." He stands aside, gesturing to invite Slightly in; when Slightly enters, Bae closes the door and flops down on the bed. He grabs the remote control and snaps off the Cartoon Network.
Slightly takes a can of soda and a burger from the bag, then drops it on Bae's knees. Bae digs in. Around a mouthful of French fries, he asks, "You come to lecture me or give me the old 'chin up' talk?"
"I came for lunch. Thought I'd eat in the diner in hopes of catching Ruby there, but she's still out searching." Slightly licks a drop of ketchup off his palm. "Mm, ketchup. Condiments are this world's magic. You want a lecture or a 'chin up' talk?"
"Nope. Lunch will suffice."
They eat in silence for a full fifteen minutes; their friendship goes back so far that their silences are comfortable. After crumpling his empty soda can, Bae rests against the headboard and stares at the empty TV screen. "What am I going to do with her clothes?" he says suddenly.
"Huh?"
Bae gestures to the closet. "Tam's clothes."
"Maybe there's a Salvation Army in town, a second-hand store," Slightly suggests. "Don't take them back to New York."
"She doesn't have any parents, you know. No brothers or sisters I can give her things to."
"I know."
"I'll have to call the church, cancel. . . .Make some couple happy. It's hard to get a wedding reservation for New Year's Eve."
"Her friends? You introduced me to her best friend once, the dental assistant, remember? Maybe her friends would like to have something to remember her by."
"I'm not so sure now." Bae punches a pillow to make it fit the way he wants.
"About what?"
"Her friends. I mean, I only met Alyssa. Tam talked about other friends but I never met them." He throws the crushed can into the trash. "Two points."
Slightly crushes his own can and throws it successfully into the same trash basket. "Two points."
"I met two of Tam's employees. Does that seem strange to you? We were engaged almost a year and she only introduced me to three people."
Slightly shrugs.
"I mean, check it out: we bring my dying father into town—my father the hermit—four days ago and already we met, what, twenty people?"
Slightly's mouth twitches. "Including your ex, your son, her parents, your father's girlfriend, his handyman, his poker buddies. For a hermit, he's got connections."
"Okay," Bae grunts. "Here it comes: the lecture."
"Yeah, I guess. But I've always had your back, right? I don't BS you."
"I know. You're going to start with what I'll be walking out on. How it won't just be my old man—and what a rotten deal that is, to walk out on him after he's been searching for me every minute of his life for the past two hundred years. Not even take the time to get to know him. I mean, he doesn't even look anything like I remember. He sure doesn't act like it, not the town coward or the crazy imp."
"Might be interesting to find out just how different he is now. Especially since, you know, he might not be around that much longer. Stabbed, poisoned, now he's been electrocuted, concussed—if I sold life insurance, I wouldn't sell to him."
"He didn't have to kill her!" Bae yells. "Yeah, okay, maybe he had to defend himself, but he has magic, for crap sake! He could've put a-what do you call it?-immobilization spell on her or snapped his fingers and transported her to Greenland. He didn't have to kill her. He did that because he can't control himself. He has to be stopped, and until he is, I don't want him around me or my son."
"Well, maybe you've got your wish, after all these years. Tam took his magic."
"He lost his magic?" Bae sits up a little straighter.
"Gone and never coming back. Tam had this thing: she electrocuted him with it and it took his magic. That's why she was here. Not to meet your son, not to support you. She was working with a man named Greg Mendell, and they were working for a group that claims magic is unholy and must be removed from this world—even if that means killing the practitioners, like Cora and your father."
Bae's face blackens. "That's a lie."
"I wouldn't lie to you, Petey. You know that. But I get it: you need something concrete. You're finding out some hard-to-believe crap about the woman you wanted to marry. There's a van full of evidence at the sheriff's office. It's police property now, but Emma will let you look at as much as you need to. I'd probably do the same thing, in your shoes. I know it's too much to absorb now. Give yourself time, but you gotta know the enemy's at the gates. This town has a day or two at the most, then it's every hand on deck if it's going to survive. That includes your son, Petey. This group Tam worked for? It's not what she thought it was. Not a righteous clean-up campaign. That's a ploy. It's about accumulating magic, taking it away from the current owners and storing it until he's got enough to make his move. And you know what he wants, Petey: he wants this world for himself so he can get the hell out of Neverland."
"He," Bae repeats, puzzled at first. Then he catches on. "Peter Pan."
"Peter Pan the Fourteenth. And you know what that means for Pans One through Thirteen."
Bae swallows hard; he was Pan the Ninth. "If Fourteen's going to live in this world, he's got to get rid of the rest of us first."
"And find a replacement for himself to send back to Neverland. Three guesses who he's selected as Pan the Fifteenth."
"S—t," Bae hisses. "Henry."
Slightly stands and stretches. "I gotta get back to work. Grieve as long as you need to, but be clear about what you're grieving for. You were used. Greg was Tam's fiancé, not you, and Emma, your father and your son are the prizes they were after. There's a war coming. I know you, Petey: you'll stand and fight, even if you walk away after it's over." Slightly opens the door. "But you might want to get to know your father first, so if you do walk out, you'll know it was the right choice."