A/N: Thank you all so much for your continuing support! Your feedback is truly a magical source of inspiration!

Disclaimer: We do not own Once Upon a Time or Peter Pan. May credit be given where credit is due.

~Chapter XXXV~

Neverland's night music had quieted into a gentle hum, its tempo matching the lazy twinkling of the stars shining above the sleeping couple. Their arms were wrapped around each other, the woman's head nestled sweetly on the man's chest as they slumbered peacefully.

Suddenly, a loud crash followed by an indignant shout echoed from the cabin above them, the very one in which Baelfire was supposed to be resting. Rumplestiltskin and Belle started awake, their blinking eyes wide with worry as they glanced at each other. The fire in the pit had long since died, and they relied on each other's grasp to pull themselves safely to their feet in the darkness surrounding them. Eyes narrowed, Rumplestiltskin frantically scanned the ground for his dagger; it was completely devoid of magic now, but he imagined it could still cut through flesh rather efficiently, and there was no way of knowing what sort of danger his son was in now.

He found it lying a short distance away and retrieved it with haste, tucking it beneath the sash at his waist. His eyes met Belle's, and in the next moment they were racing toward the stairs, ascending them as quickly as they could while still shaking the sleep from their minds.

"Stop that!" They heard the boy's voice cry as they neared the cabin door, and another crash sounded.

The sight which met their eyes once they passed the threshold was one they had least expected: Baelfire was out of bed, chasing what appeared to be his very own—Rumplestiltskin could hardly make sense of it—shadow as it darted about the room completely independent of its master. His son's hands were unraveling the loose bandages hanging at his bare waist, letting them fall to the floor as his eyes fixed the elusive shape with a predatory glare.

The boy, unaware of his audience, leapt onto a small table, and it appeared he had forgotten he could no longer fly, for in the next moment he launched himself high into the air toward the shadow that was perched on the ceiling and gesturing tauntingly for the boy to come closer. For a few suspended seconds the boy hovered in the air, before crashing back down to the floor in a sprawled heap. His shadow, which remained on the ceiling, pantomimed laughing as Baelfire hissed in pain and rubbed his now scraped knee.

"What's going on in—" Aibreann's voice cut off as she alighted on the windowsill, her tiny eyes wide with shock as she took in the overturned table, the scowling teenage boy, and the silhouette still laughing on the ceiling.

"It appears my son's shadow has developed a…" The corners of Rumplestiltskin's mouth twitched slightly in disbelief at the realization, and he fought a bizarre urge to laugh despite how uneasy the idea made him, "Mind of its own?"

As though in agreement with the man's words, the shadow descended onto an adjacent wall and took an elaborate bow. Rumplestiltskin heard Belle suppress a soft chuckle behind her hand.

"Not for long," Baelfire threatened, pulling himself to his feet and striding angrily toward the wall. Anticipating the attack, the shadow doubled itself in size and struck a menacing pose, raising its left arm and the hook now attached to the end.

"Oh, knock it off," the boy scoffed, reaching out and catching hold of the shadow's foot. It was then that Rumplestiltskin realized how different the consistency and shade of the silhouette were in comparison to a typical shadow. It was darker and somewhat opaque, so that when it stretched out over the carvings on the cabin wall, they became less legible, as though being glimpsed through a film.

The sight was so unbelievably bizarre, Rumplestiltskin, Belle, and Aibreann could only watch in bewildered silence as the boy heaved the shadow from the wall. Grunting slightly with the effort, Balefire pulled back his silhouette's torso until it was stretched tight between his hands. He slowly turned, his gaze determinedly settling on a small chest of drawers across the cabin. He squinted one eye, pulling the shadow even tauter like the slingshot, and then released it. With a triumphant laugh he watched as the dark figure soared straight into the top drawer, and the other three could not withhold their own chuckles as it rattled angrily inside.

Baelfire darted over to the drawer and braced his back against it before the shadow could succeed in pushing it open. Only then did he seem to fully realize he had an audience, his cheeks turning pink as he grinned somewhat sheepishly at them. His gaze traveling between all three of them, the boy asked, "Could someone please explain—"

His voice momentarily cut off as the shadow gave a particularly powerful shove at the drawer, almost propelling Baelfire from it. "How this," he continued with a disbelieving laugh, redoubling his effort to contain the silhouette as it pushed forward again, "Is even possible?"

Finally shaking himself from his shock, Rumplestiltskin strode over to his son, glancing down at the drawer and taking notice of a slightly rusted keyhole.

"It can lock," he observed, bracing his hands against the drawer to help the boy keep it shut, "Do you know where the key is?"

Balefire shook his head, opening his mouth to speak, but before he could release a single sound Belle suddenly gasped.

"I think I do! Tootles was playing with one a couple days ago," she said excitedly, hurrying over to the corner in which Tootles and Nibs preferred to play. Aibreann flew over to her, allowing the light of her aura to illuminate the cluttered area. Belle rifled through the handmade teddy bears and carved wood pieces piled there, her brow furrowed in concentration, before straightening with a victorious "ah ha!" In her hand she held a tiny iron key, its edges tinged red from age.

She shuffled over to the father and son, waiting for a moment in which the shadow stilled its movements enough for her to insert the key. After a few more fervent struggles on the shadow's part, it seemed to require a moment of rest. Belle took advantage of the pause, sliding the key into the lock and twisting it until a satisfying click sounded.

Hesitantly, Rumplestiltskin and Baelfire stepped away from the chest of drawers, their expressions turning slightly smug when the shadow unsuccessfully continued its escape attempt. They both simultaneously ran a hand through their hair, staring in abject disbelief at the rattling drawer. Belle might have laughed at their similar behavior, but at that moment she caught the concern in Aibreann's gaze, and her mirth was replaced with worry.

They all kept their eyes on the drawer, watching as the rattling grew feebler, before finally coming to a stop altogether.

"It's about time you gave up," Baelfire exclaimed indignantly, and his lips could not seem to decide whether to smile or scowl in the independent shadow's direction.

"So, what do we do with it now?" The boy asked with a half-smile, turning to face the two adults and fairy watching him. Rumplestiltskin shook his head, breathing a soft chuckle at how nonchalant his son could be even in the face of something as mind-boggling as a self-governing silhouette.

"Well, perhaps we should figure out what it is, first," the man responded, before turning his attention to the only other person in the room who had experience with magic.

Aibreann met his gaze, her lips pursed in thought and forehead creased with alarm. She looked once more in the direction of the drawer, shaking her head lightly.

"I don't understand it," she murmured half to herself, "But it feels...dark."

"It's just my shadow, Aib," Baelfire scoffed, his expression slowly growing more serious when the others remained silent. "Right?"

"Has it ever been like this before, son?" Rumplestiltskin asked, moving closer to the chest of drawers.

"No," Baelfire responded, shaking his head, "It's never done anything like this before. It used to be just a normal shadow."

Rumplestiltskin gave him a long, searching look, frowning slightly in concentration. "It's been missing, these past couple days," the man observed out loud, and his eyes suddenly brightened at a thought that followed. "Since Hook's death, I'd gather."

A sudden bang echoed from the drawer, apparently caused by the silhouette launching itself once more against the front. Belle started slightly at the noise, and for a moment they all stared at the shadow's makeshift prison, looking away only when it remained still.

Rumplestiltskin's mind suddenly recalled how the shadow had reappeared, fainter than normal, the previous evening, when his son had finally gained the upper hand in his internal struggle. He was about to share this information out loud, when his son suddenly spoke.

"After Hook died," Baelfire began, rubbing at the back of his neck as he thought aloud, "I started to feel strange. Not only sick, but I had these…awful thoughts. And in my dreams, I was fighting him. But I wasn't just me, I was Peter Pan." He paused, scraping his hand over his face and releasing a low sigh, before looking up once more. "Could it be that—Do you think it was inside me?" He cast a wary glance at the drawer as it rattled once more.

Rumplestiltskin remained silent, although that was exactly what he had been speculating just now. The shadow was possibly another manifestation of the bitterness that had festered and become personified in Hook. While his son had been the blissfully oblivious Peter Pan, it had not been able to infect him. But when the pirate died, and his son began regaining his memories, that darkness had been freed of the body that contained it, and so sought another...the one to which it was most closely related.

"Yes," Rumplestiltskin answered eventually, "I think both of those personas—the light and the dark—were warring inside you."

Baelfire's eyes widened slightly, and he placed a hand on his chest with a shudder, as though recalling an unpleasant sensation. "Is that why the shadow is so different now?" He asked in a small voice, clearing his throat. "Darker and...alive?"

Rumplestiltskin nodded, before opening his mouth to explain, "Magical beings, especially the darkest ones, cannot always be defeated by physical death alone. They often leave behind...remnants." His eyes darting over to the drawer, picturing the shadowy being imprisoned within it. "That is no ordinary shadow, son. It is two shadows, two opposites born of the same source, merged in one."

At least that was what Rumplestiltskin suspected. The shadow's behavior seemed to contain elements of both personalities, displaying a rather menacing sort of playfulness when interacting with his son. Rumplestiltskin trained his attention on the boy, who was currently staring down at his hands, with his forehead creased in thought.

"Hook will always be a part of me then," Baelfire said solemnly, glancing at his chest and then at the chest of drawers, "He's left his footprints."

There was a sadness laced within the boy's tone, more wistful than overwhelming, and Rumplestiltskin wondered if his son felt he had lost a part of himself, perhaps the youthful innocence he had enjoyed as Peter Pan. Rumplestiltskin could think of no effective way to comfort the boy, but he could certainly relate, having often on solitary nights longed to return to the simple man he had been before the Ogre Wars, before his cowardice, before his curse...

"Perhaps we can get rid of it?" Aibreann offered helpfully, her caring gaze fixated on the boy who had known far more suffering than he deserved, "Banish it someho—"

"No," Baelfire interrupted firmly, but not unkindly, shaking his head. "I don't want to forget. The past is something that we should learn from." His eyes met Rumplestiltskin's tender gaze, "My papa taught me that."

In that moment Rumplestiltskin was certain there was nothing more moving than the pride and admiration he saw in his son's eyes. For a long moment neither looked away, but then the faint jostling of the drawer captured Baelfire's attention once more.

He strode over to the dresser, staring intently down at it. "I want to bind it to me somehow," he declared resolutely, watching as the shadow shook the dresser in protest. "The entire shadow, even the part that is Hook...He's weaker in this form, and I can keep him from controlling me now. And this way," his gaze flitted over to the carving of Scout for a moment, before returning to the drawer, "There's no way he can hurt anyone else."

A wave of pride crested within Rumplestiltskin's chest at his son's display of maturity, and when his gaze met Belle's, he could see she felt the same. Aibreann, too, appeared deeply impressed with the boy's decision, though her eyes soon filled with contemplation.

"Binding it will require magic," she said quietly, looking from the slightly quivering chest of drawers to Baelfire. Her words sent a trickle of dread through Rumplestiltskin's veins; magic had cost him and his son so much...he dreaded the thought of relying on its fickle help once more.

Aibreann sighed deeply, her wings drooping from exhaustion. Belle graciously outstretched a hand, allowing the weary fairy to perch there.

"If only there wasn't a price," the pixie said morosely. Baelfire looked down at his feet, grimacing at the mention of yet another price to be met. Rumplestiltskin watched as his son began to fidget with the silver bracelet wrapped about his wrist.

Suddenly, an idea struck Rumplestiltskin so soundly he had to fight to find the words to voice it. He walked over to where the boy stood, gently but eagerly grasping his hand and lifting it to inspect the piece of jewelry. Just as he suspected, if he turned it just right in the firelight, he could glimpse a whisper of violet within its strands.

Magic, captured within the silver threads and already paid for long ago, before he mastered his infamous ability to spin straw into gold.

He felt he could shout with joy at the realization, but settled instead for a relieved laugh. He looked excitedly around the room, and when his eyes took in everyone's completely bewildered expressions, he felt his ears grow warm with embarrassment.

"There's magic still contained in the bracelet I made for Bae," he explained after clearing his throat, his lips stretched in a slightly sheepish smile, "And we don't have to worry about a price, because I've already paid it."

Belle's features brightened at the information, her lips curving in a wide smile as she shared in Rumplestiltskin's relief.

"But how will you use it?" Aibreann asked, leaping into the air and floating over to peer down at the chain over Rumplestiltskin's shoulder, "There may not be enough to channel and transfer—"

"I'm not going to channel it," the man explained calmly, carefully unclasping the bracelet, "I'm going to unravel it into separate strands of thread."

When Rumplestiltskin moved to fully remove the bracelet from Baelfire's wrist, he glimpsed a flicker of reluctance in the boy's eyes. His son looked down at the bracelet, raising his other hand to trace a finger against the chain.

"It's been a part of me, a part of us, for so long..." The boy murmured, his brows knitting together.

"And now it always will be," Rumplestiltskin responded gently, his hands still hovering over the boy's wrist as he waited for his permission to remove the bracelet, "Can you trust that?"

Baelfire glanced up at him, the corner of his mouth curving up in a half-smile. "I trust you," he said calmly, pulling his hand away so that the chain now hung only in Rumplestiltskin's grasp.

For a long moment, Rumplestiltskin could neither move nor speak, floored by the words he had feared he would never again hear his son speak, not after everything he had done to the boy, regardless of how much he had tried to undo it all...He swallowed thickly, inhaling a shaky breath and feeling his lips twitch into a tender smile.

With a last look into his son's eyes for confirmation, Rumplestiltskin began untwining the silver, until he held three very thin strands of metal several minutes later. He held them up in the light, his smile widening when he once more glimpsed a flash of violet.

"And then you," he continued, turning to face Belle, whose eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Are going to use these to sew the shadow to Bae."

"What?!" Belle exclaimed, her blue eyes staring at him as though he had grown an extra head. Baelfire laughed incredulously at the idea, which Rumplestiltskin imagined must have seemed rather absurd to anyone unpracticed in the magical arts.

"But, won't that hurt him?" Belle asked worriedly, glancing at the silver threads apprehensively, her brows knitted in confusion.

Rumplestiltskin chuckled, shaking his head. "Not at all. In fact," he peered closely at the silver threads dangling from his fist, pulling them slightly, "They should disappear the moment you pull them through." "I used gold ones on your cloak back at my castle," he added, his cheeks flushing slightly at Belle's surprised expression, and he cleared his throat lightly, "To protect you."

Belle smiled softly at him for a moment, before her gaze filled once more with apprehension. "I've never handled magic before, Rum. What if I...make a mistake?"

"I'd do it myself, but..." Rumplestiltskin held up his right hand, demonstrating how stiff and swollen his knuckles still were from the confrontation on the dock. He approached her, tenderly running the backs of his bruised fingers against her cheek. "I know you can do this, Belle. Magic is driven by emotion; do you want to protect our Bae?"

She visibly started at his use of the pronoun "our", her mouth dropping slightly open before stretching into a brilliant smile. "Yes," she said fervently, her voice thick with emotion, nodding her head, "I'd do anything for him."

Rumplestiltskin returned her smile, fighting against the myriad wonderful emotions prickling at the corners of his eyes. "Then you have everything you need," he murmured, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to her forehead. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling the sweet, almost floral scent of her hair.

"Except a needle," Baelfire piped in, grinning cheekily up at them as they separated somewhat bashfully. Belle's face glowed a brilliant crimson as she took a step back, her hands twisting together in front of her.

"Right," she said somewhat breathlessly, "A needle. I'll be back." She turned about and left the cabin in search of the tool, Aibreann following after her to help light the way up the stairs. Rumplestiltskin watched his love retreat, smiling at the way her blush spread across the back of her neck as well. When he returned his attention to his son, he nearly choked on his laughter at the smug smirk the boy wore.

"I've never seen you look at someone like that before," Baelfire said in a playful tone, grinning at his father as he lifted himself to sit atop the chest of drawers.

Rumplestiltskin feigned ignorance, all of the sudden feeling rather shy at his son's teasing. "Like what?" He asked, cringing slightly when he realized how obviously fake the attempt was.

"Like you're seeing the sun for the first time," the boy answered more seriously, smiling softly, and for a moment Rumplestiltskin could only gaze at the boy in silent wonder. He opened his mouth to respond, to tell Baelfire that he imagined he had looked at him the same way on the day of his birth. But before the words could escape him, the boy spoke again, his chestnut eyes filling with a gentle sort of awe

"You said 'our Bae,'" he murmured somewhat breathlessly, his eyes misting over as his mind undoubtedly pictured what the words meant, "Yours and Belle's. Am I really going to be her son, too, one day? Are you going to ask her to mar—"

Rumplestiltskin did not get to hear the rest of his son's question as Belle and Aibreann returned, the former's arms carrying a small bundle. He focused his attention on them, trying to calm his racing heart, which was still recovering from the combination of nerves and exhilaration that had flooded him while his son had been speaking.

Baelfire's eyes lit up when Belle placed what was revealed to be the boy's tunic of autumn leaves on a nearby table. He leapt down from the drawer and hurried over to it, a wide grin stretching across his face.

"Is that..." Baelfire's voice trailed off as he reached out and picked up the garment, which no longer bore the damage dealt to it two days prior. He gazed down at it in such amazement, Belle could not stifle a soft laugh.

"Yes," Belle answered, playfully ruffling his hair, "I mended it earlier while you were resting."

The others watched as the boy traced a hand over the neat stitching in the center of the tunic, his wide grin transforming into a softer, more subdued smile. It was as though he were greeting a life-long friend.

"I'm sorry I had to tear it in the first place," Rumplestiltskin said quietly. His son's brow furrowed slightly in confusion for a moment, before understanding softened his features.

"No," Baelfire responded, raising his eyes from the garment, "Don't be sorry." He glanced up at his father, before letting his gaze travel over everyone in the room. "Thank you. All of you," he spoke fervently, his eyes coming to rest on his father once more, "For everything you've done."

No one spoke for a long moment, their expressions alone conveying all the love, gratitude, and relief that words could never do justice. Out of the corner of his eye, Rumplestiltskin saw Aibreann swipe a tiny hand across her cheek, removing a tear that had fallen there.

It was the shadow that eventually broke the proverbial spell that had held them, rattling the drawer slightly as though predicting the approaching end of its freedom. Baelfire placed his repaired tunic on the nearby table, before striding over to the dresser and bending to peer through the keyhole.

"I suppose we should do it now before it gets a second wind," he said thoughtfully, straightening and turning around. Rumplestiltskin nodded, tucking the silver strands beneath his belt and retrieving the small iron key from the tabletop.

"Ready?" He asked quietly, poising the key before the lock and glancing at everyone in the room. When they all nodded, Belle perhaps a little uneasily, he inserted the key and unlocked the drawer.

Much to everyone's surprise, the shadow did not immediately attempt to spring free. It slid through the open drawer, but was easily restrained by Baelfire's and Rumplestiltskin's hands. It's dark shoulders slumped in defeat, and Rumplestiltskin found himself wondering if it had indeed exhausted itself with its earlier vigorous escape attempts.

Gripping the silhouette by its arms and feet, the father and son carefully walked over to the fire and sat down. The shadow felt like a cold film between Rumplestiltskin's fingers, and it was so thin he was surprised they could grasp it at all.

Bearing down on it with most of his weight, just in case its exhaustion was all a ruse, Rumplestiltskin waited for his son to situate himself on the floor and line his feet with the shadow's. Once the boy was prepared, Rumplestiltskin removed the silver threads from beneath his sash and signaled for Belle to approach.

Belle inhaled and exhaled slowly as she walked over, and it was not hard for Rumplestiltskin to guess what mantra she was repeating in her brilliant mind: Do the brave thing and bravery will follow. The smile which came to the man's lips at the memory was unbidden, and he shook his head slightly to force himself to focus on the delicate task at hand.

Belle knelt beside them, a thin needle clutched in her right hand. Aibreann approached them as well, and Rumplestiltskin nearly chuckled at the bright interest reflected in her tiny eyes. She had been in Neverland for centuries, and he imagined she had probably not seen such a peculiar demonstration of magic in a very long time, if at all.

Rumplestiltskin carefully took the needle from Belle, lifting one of the silver strands to thread through the eye. It was a difficult feat with his bruised and stiff fingers, but he wanted to ensure this new arrangement would not impair the magic before handing the equipment to Belle. He leaned slightly closer to the fire to see more clearly, and at that moment one of the burning logs broke. The disconnected ends fell into the flames, casting an even brighter orange glow over the domed cabin and those inside.

It was then that both Aibreann and Baelfire released soft gasps of surprise. Rumplestiltskin started slightly, nearly pricking his finger on the needle, before casting a questioning glance at the two. When he lifted his eyes and saw that they were staring at him, he quirked an eyebrow, asking in a voice rather reminiscent of his more impish days, "Do I have something on my face?"

Belle smothered a laugh behind her hand, but the others simply continued to stare, their expressions caught between wonder and confusion. It was Aibreann who finally spoke, her wings fluttering as she hovered nearer.

"You look..." she began softly, her forehead creasing in thought as her eyes unabashedly traced his features, "Different."

"Yeah, a lot younger," Baelfire supplied excitedly, and this time Belle could not hold back her mirth. Rumplestiltskin chuckled as well at his boy's innocently blatant words, and he saw Aibreann shake her head affectionately.

"But how?" The boy continued curiously, his eyes still focused on his father's face. "Was it magic?"

"The most powerful of all," Rumplestiltskin murmured, his gaze flickering to Belle, whose cheeks flushed lightly, "True love's kiss."

He eyes lingered on hers for a moment, knowing she, too, was reliving the sweet bliss of their kiss, before returning his attention to Aibreann and Baelfire. The pixie's face was split in a beaming smile, and his son grinned as well, a vibrant blush painting him from forehead to neck.

Rumplestiltskin placed the needle and thread aside, removing the dagger tucked at his waist. Wordlessly, with a light smile curving his lips, he held it out for Aibreann and Baelfire to see. Their eyes eagerly traced the tarnished blade and the distinct absence of a name carved into it. Though curiously shaped, it looked no more threatening than any other weapon left to rust and corrode from disuse.

"The curse is broken, son." The boy looked up, and Rumplestiltskin stared unblinkingly into his eyes, returning the dagger beneath his sash, "For good."

Shock flashed across Baelfire's features, and with a slightly trembling chin he breathed, "Papa…"

"I know," Rumplestiltskin whispered, once more feeling lighter than air, "I can hardly believe it myse—" But his words were cut short when, in the next moment, the boy sprang himself forward, looping his arms tight about his father's neck. Rumplestiltskin felt him flinch when the quick movement jostled his ribs, but the lad clung on.

It had been the prospect of this end that had driven their deal in the first place, and to know that this dark magic would never tear them apart again was an incredible relief. Rumplestiltskin returned the boy's embrace firmly, one hand placed carefully between his shoulders, and the other against the back of his neck, just grazing the unruly curls on his head. The shadow stirred feebly on the floor, but Baelfire's knees managed to keep it soundly in place.

A long moment passed before they parted, Rumplestiltskin giving his son's shoulder a gentle squeeze when he returned to sit before him. His heart clenched when he saw there were tears in Baelfire's eyes. But the boy blinked them back, giving his father a tremulous smile and lining his feet once more with his silhouette's.

With a small cough, Rumplestiltskin returned his attention to the task at hand, picking up the needle once more. He succeeded in threading the silver string through the eye of the needle and tied a knot at the end, relieved when the action did not seem to affect the magic contained within it. In fact, the magic seemed to affect the needle; Rumplestiltskin pressed the sharp tip against his finger, nodding in satisfaction when it did not sting or draw blood.

Now fully confident that the process would not harm his son, Rumplestiltskin handed the equipment to Belle. She took it from him without a moment's hesitation, though he could see some trepidation still whirling in her blue eyes.

"It should be no more difficult that darning a sock," he said reassuringly, watching as she swallowed thickly against her nervousness. Belle scooted closer to Baelfire, cautiously picking up the foot of the shadow, which seemed to have surrendered all attempts at escape now.

"Tell me if it hurts at all," she insisted, glancing up as the boy nodded. With a steadying deep breath, she pressed the filmy silhouette against the side of his foot and as quickly and carefully as she could, punctured and pulled the first stitch through his skin.

Everyone in the room seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief when Baelfire did not flinch or otherwise express that it had caused him pain. There was not even a drop of blood or tiny wound at the site where she had pierced the boy's foot. Belle's eyes widened in shock when the section of thread composing the stitch suddenly vanished, though she could still feel the tension of the string when she pulled gently.

"It doesn't hurt," Baelfire said in light surprise, staring down at where the shadow now met his foot, "It just feels warm, like the needle's been sitting in the sun for a while."

Undoubtedly feeling more confident, Belle performed another couple stitches, both she and Baelfire watching in fascination as the silver continued to disappear. When she slid the needle through the skin of his toe he twitched, his lips pressing together in a line. Both Rumplestiltskin and Belle looked up, their expressions concerned.

"It-it tickles a bit," the boy said somewhat sheepishly, his foot twitching again when Belle completed the stitch.

Rumplestiltskin chuckled, before admonishing gently, "Try to keep still, son."

Baelfire nodded, his brow creasing in concentration as Belle efficiently finished sewing the shadow to his foot. Rumplestiltskin used his dagger to sever the silver thread from the needle, allowing Belle to tie it into a sturdy knot. The string had completely vanished by that point but the magic remained behind, and the silhouette remained in place even as Baelfire lifted and flexed his foot.

By the time Belle had begun fastening the boy's other foot to the shadow, he had apparently grown accustomed to the spontaneous tickling sensations. He did not fidget or stifle a laugh, but smiled with an apparent growing satisfaction as his own shadow was finally bound to him forever.

Belle completed this length of sewing far more quickly, occasionally glancing up to ensure that Baelfire was still comfortable. When she reached the heel of his left foot, she pulled the thread taut, gesturing for Rumplestiltskin to cut it from the needle. He did so, and everyone in the room seemed to teem with anticipation as Belle finished tying the knot, watching as the string faded into invisibility. One silver thread remained unused, and with a slight twinge of nostalgia Rumplestiltskin tucked it beneath his sash; although the memory attached to it was too meaningful to ever be lost, he could not bring himself to part completely from the thin chain just yet.

Cautiously, Baelfire pulled himself to his feet. He turned to face the wall, his smile growing when he saw his shadow standing against it. Eyes narrowed slightly, he bent his arms and placed his fists on his waist, laughing triumphantly when the shadow obediently imitated him. He moved some more, lifting a leg and waving a hand, and although there was occasionally a very slight delay in the silhouette's actions, it was mostly compliant.

"Thank you, Tinker Belle," Baelfire exclaimed happily, flexing his feet and toes, "I can't even feel the stitches anymore."

Belle smiled softly up at him, before covering her mouth as a deep yawn escaped her. "Excuse me," she laughed quietly, her eyes appearing somewhat bleary with fatigue.

"You should get some rest," Rumplestiltskin encouraged gently, smiling as he tucked an errant curl behind her ear, "It's only a few hours until dawn."

"We all should," Belle agreed, raising her hand to cover Rumplestiltskin's and pressing it closer to her cheek for a moment. She turned her gaze to Baelfire then, who was still quietly testing out his shadow against the wall. "Even you, mister," she added affectionately, releasing a soft laugh when he whirled to face her with a slightly sheepish grin, "Once the boys learn you're better, they won't want to leave you alone for a second."

Something in the boy's demeanor shifted ever so slightly; the smile on his face and the glee in his eyes wavered, and for a moment sadness overtook his features. "Yeah..." He murmured, before clearing his throat lightly. He flashed her another broad smile, and then turned to look at his shadow once more. Rumplestiltskin continued to watch the boy intently, his forehead creasing slightly at this sudden change in behavior.

"I won't be up much longer," Baelfire promised as Belle rose to her feet, rubbing her eyes wearily with her fists.

"I'll be in the cabin just above," she told Rumplestiltskin, running her fingertips softly through his hair, "Tootles has been having trouble sleeping lately."

Rumplestiltskin nodded, touched by her unfailing consideration for others, and gently pulled her hand from his hair to press a kiss to her palm. Despite how tired she undoubtedly felt, her answering smile lit up her whole face. Rumplestiltskin hoped she would never tire of his kisses; he longed to have her look at him that way forever.

"Goodnight," she murmured sweetly, before removing her hand from his and walking toward the doorway. Aibreann remained behind for a moment, casting a meaningful look between Rumplestiltskin and his son as she hovered in the air.

She seemed to shake herself from her thoughts then, her tiny lips stretched in a smile as she nodded her head in Rumplestiltskin's direction. "I'll be turning in myself, after I check on the other boys. Belle instructed them to leave Bae to his rest, but they've undoubtedly heard all this commotion," she chuckled lightly glancing up at the ceiling, "Best tell them all is well before their curiosity drives them from their beds."

Rumplestiltskin nodded in thanks; the prospect of the five boisterous boys bumbling down the stairs in the middle of the night with a thousand questions was a rather daunting one, and he was grateful to put it off for at least a few more hours.

With another soft laugh, she turned about and pursued Belle out of the cabin. After they crossed the threshold and began ascending the stairs, Rumplestiltskin returned his attention to his son. Although the boy still faced the wall, he could see the slight drop of his shoulders, the way his movements no longer seemed as energetic or enthusiastic as they had but a few moments ago.

"What is it, son?" He pressed gently, moving closer to the boy.

Baelfire started slightly at the question, turning to face his father with the same faux grin stretching his lips. "Nothing," he said too quickly for Rumplestiltskin to think for one second that it was true.

"Bae," he said more sternly, his eyes staring unblinkingly into his son's. The boy sighed deeply, his shoulders slouching further and his gaze averting to his feet.

"It's just..." Baelfire ran a hand through his hair, rubbing at the back of his neck, "I wish I didn't have to tell the boys they can't come with us."

Rumplestiltskin opened his mouth to respond and reassure his son, but the boy continued on, preventing him from doing so.

"I don't blame you," he added hurriedly, looking up again, "I understand. It's a lot to take care of so many people, and we don't have much, but I can't help wishing—"

"Baelfire," Rumplestiltskin interrupted, fighting back a chuckle at how closely the boy sometimes resembled his beautiful Belle. "They don't have to stay here."

His son's eyebrows rose in surprise, a hopeful grin slowly spreading across his face. He seemed too joyously shocked to speak, so Rumplestiltskin continued to explain, smiling softly.

"Things are much different now, son," he said quietly, "We won't be returning to our land, at least for a while I suspect. Where we'll be going..." the corners of his mouth curved into a slight smirk at the memory of just how much "comfort" Regina had ensured he would enjoy under the Curse, "We certainly won't have to live in a hut."

He reached out a hand, gesturing for Baelfire to sit with him before the fire. The boy did so, casting a quick grin over his shoulder when his shadow obediently mimicked him. He turned his gaze to his father then, listening with rapt attention.

"There is plenty of space for the boys where we'll live," Rumplestiltskin continued, "Perhaps, we can even find their families."

Baelfire's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "That's all I've ever wanted for them," he breathed, positively beaming at his father, "To belong, and be safe."

As though in protest of the boy's words, the shadow suddenly straightened against the wall, its left fist raised menacingly. They both started slightly at the change, their gazes trained somewhat warily on the independently moving silhouette. The groove of a hook suddenly grew out of the end of the shadow's fist, and it raised it sinisterly until it hung just above the carving of Scout.

At this Baelfire jumped to his feet, his jaw set determinedly. His eyes scanned the cabin, finally landing on the fire poker as a smirk slowly curved the boy's lips. He snatched it up from the ground, and for a brief moment Rumplestiltskin felt a surge of worry that his son would try to injure the shadow with it. But his fears were assuaged when Baelfire instead turned to face the fire, perseverance and defiance brightening his gaze.

"You don't frighten me anymore, Hook. And why should you?" Baelfire said challengingly, leaning forward to stick the end of the poker into the burning logs. "You're nothing but a shadow." Demonstrating his words, the boy jerked the tool to the side, spreading the logs and drastically decreasing the flames. Rumplestiltskin said nothing, watching as his son took his own fate into his hands.

Baelfire continued to spread the embers, his eyes trained on the shadow gradually disappearing in the growing darkness. When all that remained in the hearth were a few smoldering pieces of wood, he straightened. He breathed deeply, and Rumplestiltskin could not tell if it was from the physical effort or the myriad emotions flashing in the boy's eyes. He watched as his son swallowed thickly, looking down at the ruined fire.

"Can you really love me still, Papa?" Baelfire asked after a long moment in a voice barely louder than a whisper. He did not seem sorrowful, but merely pensive, and perhaps just a tad in need of reassurance. "Knowing that this is a part of who I am now?"

Rumplestiltskin slowly pulled himself to his feet, his chest tightening at the boy's question. "You love me," he said quietly, reaching out a hand to place on his son's shoulder as he moved to stand beside him, "Knowing what I've done, who I became as the Dark One."

"And nothing will change that," Baelfire interjected fervently, staring up at his father.

"Exactly," Rumplestiltskin responded in a whisper, his heart feeling as though it could burst with joy at his son's words, "And nothing will ever change my love for you, Bae."

"The monsters and shadows of our pasts cannot hurt us now," he continued after a moment, giving Baelfire's shoulder a light squeeze, "We've overcome them, son."

"And now we're free," the boy murmured, placing his hand over his father's.

Rumplestiltskin smiled softly, his heart swelling at the notion. His mind contemplated how much he had gained over these past few days, how much he had learned, and how his curse had finally been lifted from his weary shoulders. It had not come without sacrifice and pain, but that price seemed little now with his son safe at his side and his true love sleeping peacefully above them.

"Yes," he breathed, feeling as though he could laugh or even sing at the idea, "Now we are free."

They stood like that for a while, watching the last red embers fade into ash, encasing the cabin in darkness but for the moonlight filtering through the window. Rumplestiltskin heard Baelfire hum softly in thought, and a moment later the boy prompted quietly, "Papa?"

"Hmm?" Rumplestiltskin responded, the corners of his lips once more twitching into a smile.

"How are we all going to get back home?"

"I..." Rumplestiltskin's voice trailed off as he realized they would not be able to return the way they came; they were too many in number with too few fairies to help. Shaking his head and feeling a bizarre urge to laugh, he finished, "...have no idea."

It seemed they had quite a lot to figure out come morning, but with his son laughing lightly at his side, Rumplestiltskin simply could not bring himself to worry.

A/N: Survey time, dearies! Are you excited/sad to see this through to the end? How have you felt about the adventure so far? Please let us know! :)