A/N: We have reached the final chapter, dearest readers! Your support and feedback has meant so much to us since we first posted the Prologue. We will truly cherish this experience forever. May you enjoy this last chapter as much as we enjoyed creating it! If you've persevered with us to the end, please let us know what you think!

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~Chapter XXXIX~

Consciousness slowly tugged at Rumplestiltskin's mind, chasing away dreams of Belle and Bae and their future life together. He dimly registered the soft chirps of sparrows flitting about in the branches above and cheerfully greeting the warm sunlight he could feel against his flesh. After returning to the Drey, he and Belle had reluctantly parted ways, with her returning to the small room in which Tootles and Nibs slept, and him choosing to lie down in the main cabin. It was probably for the best, he had admitted to himself somewhat grudgingly, considering the heat behind every touch and glance they had shared. Their wedding day—and night—when they would give themselves to each other so utterly and completely in ways Rumplestiltskin could only anticipate with blazing fervor, could not come soon enough.

Now, judging by the orange light filtering through his closed eyelids, it was dawn, and they would soon set out on their journey back to Storybrooke. Groaning lightly, Rumplestiltskin scrubbed a hand across his face, pausing when he felt a distinct, instinctual prickle against the back of his neck.

Someone was watching him.

Rumplestiltskin lowered his hand, resting it near the dagger he still kept tucked beneath the sash at his waist. He had shed the embroidered vest before lying down, and now felt grateful that it would not interfere with the swift withdrawal of the knife. Slowly, so as not to alert whatever predator had set its stalking gaze on him, he opened his eyes an infinitesimal amount…

Only to be startled when he was met by a pair of wide, chestnut eyes staring unblinkingly down at him.

Torn between sighing exasperatedly and laughing, he recognized his son perched at his side with an eager grin stretching his lips. Shaking his head, the corners of his own mouth twitching, Rumplestiltskin lifted himself on his elbows to regard the boy. Baelfire's smile broadened at the confirmation that his father was awake, and before Rumplestiltskin could even conjure a greeting, he had launched himself into an interrogation.

"What did Belle say? Is she going to be my new mother? You did ask her, didn't you? Tell me she said yes!" The boy uttered in a barely hushed voice that was positively quivering with excitement.

For the briefest of moments Rumplestiltskin considered delaying the truth, channeling the impish nature he had so enjoyed as the Dark One and seeking revenge for being awoken in such an unnerving way. But one look at the sheer hope glimmering in Baelfire's brown eyes, so much like his own, had him nodding his answer, or rather Belle's answer, with a slightly smug grin curving his lips.

Words could never describe the abject happiness that washed over his son's face, lighting up every feature until the boy seemed to tremble with the effort of holding back a triumphant cheer. They traded wide smiles, sharing quiet, breathless laughter as they enjoyed the new but not unwelcome feeling of being whole.

Eventually their chuckles faded away, though the joy remained in their hearts. His cheeks still sore from smiling, Rumplestiltskin casually took in his surroundings. The Lost Boys' knapsacks and bundles lay along the bottom of the adjacent wall, stuffed with their meager belongings and several sentimental trinkets. Baelfire's own belongings, packed into a satchel crafted from dry palm fronds, remained tucked at the boy's side.

"You still have that," Rumplestiltskin stated quietly, his eyes landing on the red leather he knew composed the cover of Hook's journal.

"And you still have that," Baelfire retorted calmly, his gaze directed toward the tarnished, crooked dagger resting against Rumplestiltskin's waist.

The man chuckled lightly, removing the knife and balancing it flat on his palms. "It seems we're both having a little trouble letting these go," he observed, watching as Baelfire extracted the journal from his satchel with a slightly sheepish grimace.

"I was worried I'd forget," Baelfire murmured, tracing a fingertip across the cover's glossy surface. Rumplestiltskin sighed lightly, glancing down at the remnants of his own curse.

"Our pasts will always be a part of us, son," Rumplestiltskin said in a low voice, his eyes tracing the smooth surface of the blade, before returning to his son's. "But that doesn't mean we have to carry these things around like some kind of penance."

Baelfire inhaled deeply, gazing once more down at the scarlet journal resting on his knees. He did not look up for a long moment, and it was not difficult for Rumplestiltskin to imagine that the boy was envisioning all the self-incriminating details contained within it.

"You're right, Papa," Baelfire sighed eventually, resolutely tearing his attention from the diary. "When we leave Neverland, we'll leave these behind," he declared determinedly, gesturing to both of the physical reminders of his and his father's darker halves.

"Deal," Rumplestiltskin nodded, and they shared a tentative grin at the familiarity of the moment.

The sound of creaking floorboards suddenly echoed above them, indicating the gradual awakening of the Lost Boys. Rumplestiltskin could just distinguish Belle's voice gently encouraging Nibs and Tootles to rise and prepare themselves for the day, and then calling out to the boys still tucked in their platform beds. He could not fight back a chuckle at the older lads' sleepy groans of protest at being woken so early. His mirth proved short-lived, however, when he saw the slightly apprehensive expression on his son's face.

Baelfire gnawed at his bottom lip, his eyes darting down to the journal he still held. "I...I don't want anyone else to find it and read it," he explained quickly in response to his father's evident concern, "It's not that I'm ashamed, it's only that there are more than just stories in here: thoughts, feelings..."

"They're your memories, son. You can share them as you see fit," Rumplestiltskin said comfortingly, reaching out a hand and placing it upon the boy's shoulder. Baelfire covered his father's hand with his own, nodding in gratitude and breathing a low sigh of relief.

"I want to burn it," the boy declared after a moment, and Rumplestiltskin was pleased to see no resentment or anger in his son's eyes, only the calm determination he had so often admired. "Qentu showed me how ashes can help plants grow. I hurt Neverland a lot as Hook," Baelfire paused, swallowing thickly before pressing on, "It's not much, but I'd like to give some of what I took back."

Rumplestiltskin could summon no words in response to his son's display of maturity and wisdom, gained from centuries of self-reliance and strife. Instead, he clasped the boy's hand in his own, carefully pulling them both to their feet as he nodded in awed agreement. By now the other boys' footsteps had grown louder and more urgent, pitter-pattering across the catwalk as they excitedly gathered the last of their scant belongings.

A single glance between father and son communicated their mutual understanding that they had not much time to cremate the journal and dagger, and without another word they exited the cabin and descended the steps into the clearing.

A small pile of dry kindling awaited them like a miniature funeral pyre. Baelfire and Rumplestiltskin approached it in determined strides, both carrying the physical representations of their burdened pasts like a bizarre offering. Baelfire crouched in front of the pit, lifting the flat flint stone that lay nearby. Rumplestiltskin knelt beside him, watching as his son opened the journal and turned it over so that the yellowing pages rested atop the bundle of twigs.

The boy turned to face his father, waiting patiently as Rumplestiltskin spared one last glance at the crooked blade resting in his palms.

For centuries he had guarded this dagger, at one point choosing its protection over the life of an innocent maid, its cold black hilt over his son's warm hand.

"Never again," Rumplestiltskin whispered fervently, stabbing it deep into the center of the fire pit and piercing the spine of the crimson journal in the process. It would not burn, he knew, but perhaps his son's plan would see fruition and vegetation would grow from the ashes amongst which it would soon be nestled. Forever it would lie, a tarnished symbol of death surrounded by bountiful life.

So lost was Rumplestiltskin in his thoughts that he did not register his son striking the flint stone until tiny orange flames had blossomed at the base of the kindling. Together he and his son watched as they rapidly licked along the twigs, before blazing yellow upon meeting the dry pages of the journal. The leather sizzled and melted in the heat, sticking to the metal of the dagger as it blackened.

Rumplestiltskin felt no rush of savage satisfaction upon witnessing the destruction. It was like visiting the grave of an old enemy broken by death and thus unable to inflict further harm; he was comforted by the finality of the sight, but there existed no threat to be removed, and thus no genuine relief to be felt. The dagger was nothing more than a tarnished length of metal that would soon vanish amongst the beauty of Neverland's forest, and it was this concept, the promise of rebirth and renewal, that inspired a soft smile that curved Rumplestiltskin's lips.

He clapped a hand on his son's shoulder, rising to his feet and watching as Baelfire prodded the fire once more, before standing himself. A sudden cacophony of boys' voices filled the air, growing louder as the motley crew raced down the spiraling vine staircase. Together he and his son kicked soil on top of the fire, smothering it until not a single wisp of smoke escaped. A few tiny seeds from the blossoms in the willow trees lay atop the mound, and Rumplestiltskin watched as a hopeful smile spread across Baelfire's face. Neverland would build new life on the ashes of its past, just as they would.

With one last grin in his father's direction, Baelfire turned to face the Drey, a laugh escaping him as the Lost Boys bounded down the stairs, lugging their bundles behind them. Not far behind them walked Belle, holding the tiny hand of a sleepy-eyed Tootles, and in her wake floated the four fairies who had become their guardians and companions these past days. They crowded into the clearing, and Rumplestiltskin briefly met Belle's gaze, exchanging a tender smile before she redirected her attention to the boys, raising her hand to perform a quick head count.

She had forgone the lavish gown from the previous evening, though she looked no less beautiful for it. In its place she now wore a pair of short brown breeches she had undoubtedly discovered in one of the boys' "borrowed" trunks. A loose-fitting blouse peeked out from beneath the forest green jacket she had brought from Storybrooke, cinching in at her waist beneath a long strip of leather. She had restrained her thick curls with another cord of leather, letting them cascade down her back in a long plait. The overall effect was quite charming, and Rumplestiltskin smiled as he thought of how perfectly she emblemized the role of the adventurer in those tales she so enjoyed.

She returned his smile upon finishing her counting, sending him a coy wink in response to the appraising look she undoubtedly saw in his eye.

"Where are we going to throw the bean, Peter?" Pox asked suddenly over the crowns of the boys who were practically bouncing in their excitement.

"In the ocean," Baelfire responded, his voice slightly raised in order to be heard above the laughter and animated conversation of the other boys. "We've more space there," he explained, chuckling as he was jostled by Nibs, who was eagerly running about their legs, "Besides, I promised the merpeople I'd play for them before we leave, like I used to." He gestured to the handmade panpipe tucked beneath the belt at his waist, before glancing at his father for approval.

Rumplestiltskin nodded, and he saw Belle do the same, relief flashing in her eyes at the prospect of being able to ensure everyone traveled together and without trampling the littler ones.

"Boys," Belle called, waiting until she held their attention before asking carefully, "Does everyone have their belongings?"

Her eyes traveled over each of them in turn, her smile widening as they nodded enthusiastically. Her attention turned to Baelfire then, and he pulled back his shoulders until he resembled a soldier awaiting orders.

"Do you have the bean?" She asked with a sternness that did not reach her twinkling blue eyes.

Baelfire's eyes suddenly grew wide as saucers, his mouth falling slightly open as he stared at her in abject panic, patting frantically at the front of his tunic. Worry flashed across Belle's features and she opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a word Baelfire's facade slipped, melting into a puckish grin that dimpled his cheeks.

"Of course, I do," he exclaimed, slipping a hand into his satchel and holding up the transparent bean for her inspection. Belle scowled at the boy, but just as it had when Rumplestiltskin had bewitched her broom in his castle so that it danced just out of her reach whenever she made to grasp it, it quickly melted into an exasperated, but still amused, grin.

"You're worse than your father," she grumbled teasingly, swatting playfully at the boy's dark curls. "I don't know how I'm going to manage living with both of you," she added, sharing a secret smile with Rumplestiltskin as she traced the delicate silver band glittering on her left ring finger.

Baelfire's face positively lit up at the confirmation of his father's earlier words, and he seemed unable to stop himself from saying in a voice breathy with joy, "It'll be wonderful..."

"I already love every moment," Belle responded tenderly, reaching out to cup Baelfire's cheek. A long moment passed between them, and Rumplestiltskin felt such a rush of anticipation for their future together, it took all his strength not to snatch the bean and toss it on the ground right there.

"Umm...Aren't we supposed to be leaving now?" Curly asked loudly, impatience and confusion mingling in his squeaky voice.

Rumplestiltskin chuckled to himself, turning to face the red-haired lad. As touched as he was by the affectionate exchange between Belle and his son, he too was eager to depart. "Couldn't agree with you more," he responded lightly, returning Belle's playful glare with a smirk before fixing his gaze on the green fairy hovering above them.

"Lead the way?" He asked Aibreann, knowing the significance of his request would not be lost on the pixie that had once before helped guide him home. The path to the dock was already familiar to him, but there was something that just felt right about asking the fairy to escort them, something warm and secure. With a jolt he only just managed to contain, Rumplestiltskin realized what it was: trust.

"Always, Rumplestiltskin," Aibreann responded softly, her tiny lips curving upward as she beckoned for the other fairies to follow her in the direction of the shore. The four spheres of light shimmered above the crowd as they trekked through the forest. Golden sunlight filtered insistently through the tree canopy, as though desiring at least one more chance to embrace the children who had excitedly greeted it every day.

The flora grew thicker the farther they walked, casting their surroundings in winding ribbons of shade. Although Neverland assisted in their trek, rolling aside stones and flattening the more protuberant of roots, Rumplestiltskin felt grateful for the extra light shining down on the path from the fairies' vibrant auras. He spoke little now, the steady weight of Belle's hand in his own, the rhythmic sound of their footsteps, and even the boys' eager chatter lulling him into a pensive and content state.

When sand and fossilized shells began to appear in the soil beneath their feet, Rumplestiltskin knew their destination was near. The Lost Boys seemed to notice the change as well, their laughter and conversation growing louder and more animated. Even the forest around them teemed with apparent excitement, the rustling of its leaves and the cooing of its doves rising in volume. Although no finches flitted between the branches above, their shrill chirps filled the air nonetheless, contributing to the choir of avian voices.

A break in the tree line evoked a loud cheer from the children, and Rumplestiltskin felt his own heartbeat skip with excitement as Baelfire grasped his shoulder and Belle gently squeezed his hand. Although the vegetation thinned as they approached the beach, the sounds of the forest did not waver; in fact, they seemed to grow only louder.

Sand replaced earth beneath the group's soles and the salty sea air whispered across their faces as they strode over the dunes and onto the beach. Rumplestiltskin paused his steps, listening as the others shuffled to do the same. When the sounds of rustling leaves and twittering birds still did not cease, however, he knew something was amiss.

Brow furrowed in confusion, his stomach twisting uncomfortably, Rumplestiltskin glanced at his son. Baelfire's face slowly split into a wide grin, before he whirled about and released a gleeful shout. Rumplestiltskin followed the boy's gaze, starting slightly in surprise to find at least twelve Indians crowded before them, their scant, deer hide clothing the only part of their beings that did not camouflage with the backdrop of forest. It was both fascinating and unnerving to think that the Indians had been able to follow them for so long without their knowing it. He heard Belle laugh happily as Baelfire raced forward and threw his arms around Qentu's slender shoulders.

The young native appeared not to know quite what to do in response, but he smiled broadly nonetheless, ruffling the boy's curls with a long-fingered hand as they stepped apart. Qentu's expression grew serious then, and Rumplestiltskin watched as he bent and peered solemnly into Baelfire's eyes. A long moment passed, and relief coursed through the man when Qentu suddenly straightened with another grin, having apparently seen nothing alarming through the windows that led to his son's soul.

Belle apparently shared his relief, sighing lightly and leaning her head briefly against his shoulder as they watched the other boys interact with Neverland's natives. The young native girl with the flower tucked behind her ear—Tiger Lily, Belle supplied helpfully—danced amongst them merrily, weaving in and out of the crowd until she finally reached Baelfire. With a grin that dimpled her copper cheeks, she plucked the pan pipe from beneath his palm frond belt, waving it before the laughing boy with an imploring look in her eyes.

"All right, all right," Baelfire relented, his tired sigh undermined by the happy glint in his eye as he retrieved the flute from her grasp. She and several other Indians whooped in a high and clear way that reminded Rumplestiltskin of a jackal's cry.

With a half-glance at his father and a small shrug, Baelfire raised the flute to his lips, closing his eyes as the first breathy notes of the melody tumbled forth.

The crowd grew silent as the music soared above them, each note quivering with the emotions contained within it: nostalgia, hope, and the slightest trace of sadness. Belle's arm slipped about Rumplestiltskin's waist as she leaned into him, her eyelids sliding closed. Inhaling deeply, Rumplestiltskin rested his own arm around her shoulders, letting his fingertips trace her arm in time with his son's music. There were tears in young Tiger Lily's eyes, and it was only then, observing the sorrow in the child's gaze and the way his son's hands trembled around the flute, that Rumplestiltskin grasped just how much Baelfire would be leaving behind in Neverland. He sighed deeply, resting his head atop Belle's as he once more marveled at the boy's strength to go on, to continue playing and learning and living, in spite of his pain.

A splash suddenly echoed behind them, causing both Belle and Rumplestiltskin to start slightly. They pulled apart, turning around to search for the source.

The merpeople they met the previous day swam gracefully toward them, their silver fins glittering beneath the water. The older ones wore solemn expressions, their unblinking eyes fixed solely on Baelfire, while the younger ones positively beamed with excitement. Baelfire's eyes twinkled with the smile his flute-playing prevented his lips from forming, and he slowly stepped closer, pausing only when the seawater lapped at his ankles.

Only his son would be able to lure in a siren with his song, Rumplestiltskin thought, shaking his head with a light chuckle. The mermaids lifted themselves onto the half-submerged rocks, their pale blue eyes wide as they regarded the boy, while the mermen remained in the water, their demeanors reserved but their attention still captured by the music.

Baelfire's melody continued for a few moments longer, rising and falling with more ease than the gentle waves of the ocean, before drifting into silence with a winding coda. As the last sighing notes disappeared on the wind, the spell seemed to break, and the younger mermaids launched into speech.

"Oh, Peter, that was lovely," a mermaid with a starfish clinging to her blonde hair sighed, flashing a dazzling smile in the boy's direction. Two mermaids at her side—Atara and Penina, if Rumplestiltskin's memory served him correctly—nodded avidly in agreement, before the former spoke.

"I do so wish you weren't leaving us," she said imploringly, fidgeting with the wreath of shells around her neck, "Must you go?"

"I'm afraid so, ladies," Baelfire answered gently over their adamant protests, and Rumplestiltskin bit back a chuckle as the boy's ears turned red.

"A new life awaits him, Atara. A happier one," the merpeople's chieftainess reprimanded gently, "Surely you would not deny him that?"

The mermaid huffed irritably, but said nothing, crossing her arms across her chest and splashing the water with her long fin. Penina rolled her eyes at her companion's behavior, before settling her gaze on Belle. Rumplestiltskin watched as her opaque blue eyes darted down to Belle's left hand and a smug smirk appeared on her lips.

Belle, too, seemed to notice the mermaid's attention, for in the next moment she exclaimed, "Oh! Thank you for the pearl. It's lovely."

Apparently her gratitude and praise were precisely the response Penina had desired, and her smirk stretched into an even smugger grin. "You're welcome, human," she supplied airily, before her haughty expression faded into something more serious, but not unkind. "I hope you will be very happy," the mermaid added sincerely, her gaze darting between the couple.

"I already am," Belle responded softly, a faint blush dancing from her neck to her dimpled cheeks. Rumplestiltskin resisted the urge to press a kiss to the pink flesh, choosing instead to lace their fingers and squeeze gently. His attention returned to his son then, and he watched him wade farther into the water to address the chieftainess.

"We're traveling back by creating a portal," the boy explained, withdrawing the transparent bean from his satchel and showing her, "May we throw this in the water to do so?"

She nodded, before pointing a long finger in the distance. "Throw it from the end of the dock; there are fewer rocks there," the elder mermaid advised sagely, before adding, "I suppose this means goodbye then, Peter."

"Yes," Baelfire answered quietly, "Goodbye, Malka." They held each other's gaze for a long moment, before the chieftainess nodded once more and turned to direct her subjects farther into the cove.

"They'll never forget you, Baelfire," a soft voice said suddenly, and both Rumplestiltskin and his son glanced up to see Aibreann hovering above them, "None of us will."

"You're not coming with us?" The boy asked, disappointment and surprise evident in his tone as he glanced at the four fairies in turn. Several of the Lost Boys gasped loudly at the news, the younger ones crying out in protest.

"I cannot speak for the others, but I am staying," Aibreann answered in a calm but decided tone, smiling gently at all of them before turning her gaze to Rumplestiltskin's. "I must, so that I am here for any other lost boy that needs help finding his home."

Rumplestiltskin stared up at her for a long moment, knowing that she, too, was remembering the night when she had guided him, a frightened child, safely back to his village. He could never repay her for all she had done for him, not only saving him as a lad, but helping him find his son again, protecting Belle, assisting in the orchestration of his proposal...But one look into her eyes, brimming with warmth and kindness, told him his happiness was payment enough, and the thought was enough to make his throat feel uncomfortably tight.

"Farewell, dear heart," she murmured, echoing the name she had called him as a lad. She floated low enough to hover before his forehead, her soft jade aura reflecting off of his skin. Rumplestiltskin lowered his gaze, catching Belle's tender smile in the corner of his eye as, with a low hum of her wings, Aibreann moved closer and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. The gesture, though small and fleeting, filled Rumplestiltskin with a deep sense of loss. As she withdrew and made to fly away, Rumplestiltskin realized, to his astonishment, that not only was he grateful for the little pixie, but he was truly going to miss her.

Aibreann's wings carried her closer to Belle then, and Rumplestiltskin saw there were tears on her lashes.

"I wish we'd had more time together, Belle," she said in a thick voice, her lips trembling as she attempted to pull them into a smile, "Take care of them."

"I will," Belle promised with a watery smile, her voice no louder than a whisper, "Thank you, for everything you've done."

Aibreann merely nodded in response, apparently too moved to speak as she turned to regard Baelfire and the Lost Boys. Her throat bobbed slightly as she swallowed hard, inhaling a deep, steadying breath before speaking.

"Baelfire, boys," she began, her voice quivering with emotion as her eyes took them all in, "You are so special to me...Please, be happy in your new life. It's all I've ever wanted for you."

Rumplestiltskin glanced at his son, an ache settling beneath his ribs at the tears he saw gathered in the boys' eyes. He watched as Baelfire nodded and vowed in a thick voice, "We will."

"Will you put flowers on Scout's bed sometimes, Aib?" Tootles asked quietly, rubbing the back of his fist against his nose with a loud sniffle, "He likes the fuzzy ones that you can blow away."

Belle inhaled a soft gasp at Rumplestiltskin's side at the tiny boy's request, and Rumplestiltskin felt his own eyes sting as Aibreann pressed her lips together, undoubtedly fighting against a sob.

"Of course, Tootles. I promise," she responded after a moment, before turning away to regard the other fairies.

"We're staying as well," Buidhe declared resolutely, gesturing to herself and Flannach. "Neverland is our home. Besides," she continued with a teasing glint in her eye, "We can't let you have all the fun."

Aibreann laughed lightly, before hovering forward to embrace them both. Ruadh, however, remained silent, her eyes focused on the hands she twisted nervously. The jagged scar that expanded the entire length of her wing appeared even harsher in the bright morning light. Humming in thought, Aibreann floated over to her.

"You've sacrificed and suffered enough here, my dear," she said quietly, placing a hand beneath the scarlet fairy's chin and gently lifting so that their gazes could meet, "Perhaps Storybrooke can be your new beginning, too?"

Ruadh's face positively glowed at the suggestion, and with a sound caught beneath a laugh and a sob she threw her arms around Aibreann's neck. Rumplestiltskin could not summon any disappointment at the news that Storybrooke would gain another fairy; regardless of his less than amiable past with many of them, he would need to trust them and request their help in protecting his family, especially now that he no longer possessed his powers.

As terrifying as the idea of potentially being unable to protect his family was, Rumplestiltskin felt not the faintest twinge of regret concerning the breaking of his curse. Its black power poisoned everything it touched, transforming family and friendship into a gaping, festering wound in his chest. The infection that was the Dark One's power was no longer something Rumplestiltskin craved. From now on, only his true love and his son, and his faith that nothing would ever keep them apart again, would fuel his strength.

"The merpeople are all in the cove now," Baelfire observed quietly, his gaze traveling over the sapphire waves and the nearby cove. "We can...we can throw the bean in now."

Rumplestiltskin nodded, fixing his attention on Belle and the Lost Boys as he spoke. "We can't all jump from the end of the dock at once, so we'll need to do it in turns," he began, recognizing the worry that suddenly flashed in Belle's eyes, "It'll be all right. You and the youngest ones will jump together first, and we'll immediately follow."

"Rum..." Belle murmured, and although her voice was little louder than a sigh, Rumplestiltskin could detect the pleading note laced within it.

"We'll be right behind you," Rumplestiltskin supplied reassuringly, gently cupping her cheek in his palm. Belle stared up at him for a long moment, placing her hand above his own and holding it closer to her flesh. A tear escaped over the lashes of one of her eyes, and when he moved the pad of his thumb to wipe it away, Belle lifted herself onto her toes and firmly pressed her lips against his.

Rumplestiltskin had only a moment to appreciate the sweet silk of her mouth before she was pulling away, her eyes bright with both love and fear. "You better be," she warned in a whisper, evoking a low chuckle from Rumplestiltskin that she answered with a small smile.

Silence fell over the group then as they all turned to face the water, their expressions varying from resolute to nervous to eager. They carefully walked along the length of the dock, pausing when Belle, Nibs, and Tootles reached the end. Belle lifted the youngest Lost Boy into her arms, balancing him on her hip as she reached down and clutched Nibs' hand in her own. Baelfire raised the hand holding the magic seed, slowly uncurling his fingers so that its glossy surface glistened in the sunlight. Before he could toss it into the sea, however, an ethereal choir of voices floated into the air, momentarily stilling his movements.

The merpeople sang a soft, wordless melody that carried like a stray petal on the wind, dipping and rising and tumbling effortlessly toward them. Like Baelfire's flute-playing earlier, hope soared high on every note, but it was accompanied by a low, lamenting hum that spoke volumes of how much these creatures—this entire island—would miss the children. As though in harmony with the finned people, Neverland soon joined in their music, sending forth only the gentlest of its sounds: the sighs of the swaying vines, the moans of the wind across the reeds...

It was a send-off, a melodic farewell that Rumplestiltskin knew would echo in their thoughts and dreams for many days and nights to come. After one, final sweeping glance at the island and its inhabitants, Baelfire straightened his shoulders, raised his arm, and launched the transporting bean into the ocean.

The effect was immediate: a near blinding flash of emerald light sprang forth from where the seed had sunk, joined by the loud whooshing of the surrounding water as it funneled and expanded into a large whirlpool.

Belle glanced apprehensively at Rumplestiltskin over her shoulder, her pale skin glowing in the green haze of the portal roaring in front of her. Smiling in what he hoped Belle would understand as encouragement, he nodded, having only a moment to glimpse her answering grin before she pressed the two boys closer and leapt off the dock.

The portal flashed violently as they disappeared inside, and with a few bounding steps of their own, Pox, Slightly, and Curly quickly followed, the red-haired boy bellowing a cheerful "Look out bellow!" in the process.

Rumplestiltskin glanced behind him, his eyes briefly meeting those of the crimson fairy hovering a short distance away. It was father and son's turn now. As the portal roared and spewed brilliant tendrils of green light, Rumplestiltskin was surprised to realize that not even the slightest talons of fear gripped him. No, it was an entirely different and foreign feeling that surged within his veins, one he could not have anticipated his infamously cowardly self even capable of experiencing: a sheer thirst for the adventure that undoubtedly awaited them.

In the second it took Rumplestiltskin to name this curious energy that flowed within him, he turned to look at his son. He felt the awed smile on his own face falter at the unease in the boy's eyes. A crease formed between Baelfire's brow and his lips were pressed into a hard line as he stared unblinkingly into the illuminated whirlpool. It was not hard for Rumplestiltskin to guess that visions of the last portal the boy had seen, and the disastrous betrayal his father had committed while he dangled above it, were storming Baelfire's thoughts.

Well, he would just have to show the lad that this time was different, this time he was not afraid. Rumplestiltskin inhaled deeply, letting this new but not unwelcome fearlessness fill his heart as he held out his hand toward his son.

"Ready, Bae?"

Baelfire's eyes darted to his, and as Rumplestiltskin gazed into them he saw the fear transform into surprise, and then that shocking and wonderful admiration that he knew he would never tire of seeing. Lips curving up into a grin, Baelfire slid his hand into his father's, grasping it firmly.

"Ready."

And without another moment's hesitation, they leapt into the portal, their hearts thrumming with the excitement of a new adventure as Neverland disappeared around them.

The Rheul Ghorm watched apprehensively as Belle disappeared through the doorway, the last vestiges of her happiest memory slowly flickering into nothingness. She felt a bead of sweat slither down the back of her neck as she forced another pulse of magic into the portal, wanting to ensure that the couple arrived in Neverland safely. Nova copied her, her eyes wide with astonishment that they had accomplished such a difficult feat as transporting two individuals between realms.

With a sigh the Rheul Ghorm closed her eyes, preparing to cease the flow of magic into the doorway lest they expend themselves to the point of exhaustion. Before she could disrupt the transfer of energy, however, a sharp cry echoed from behind the doorway.

Eyes snapping open, The Blue Fairy stared, shocked beyond words, as Belle stumbled back through the portal. For one panicked moment she thought the plan had failed, until she realized that the young woman was not alone: held tight in her arms and tucked into her side were two little boys, no older than seven years.

Belle hastily stepped away from the doorway, comforting the children with soft words before commanding frantically, "Whatever you do, don't close that portal!"

Realizing that, in her surprise, the waves of magic pulsing within the doorframe had begun to falter, the Blue Fairy redoubled her efforts, panting slightly from the exertion.

Her eyes returned to Belle's figure, but she had not long to take in Belle's appearance—which was drastically altered from what it had been seemingly moments ago—before three more people were launched through the doorway: a tall, pockmarked boy, a stout, blond-haired boy, and a freckled, ginger-haired boy. They lingered in front of the portal, gaping at their surroundings, before Belle hurriedly beckoned them to her.

The Rheul Ghorm's mind was reeling; how was any of this possible? Belle and Rumplestiltskin had left only moments ago—she had seen it! And now the young woman had returned, accompanied by five children dressed in an assortment of animal hides. Time must transpire differently in Neverland, more quickly; how else could they—

A low grunt suddenly interrupted her thoughts, and as she squinted at the doorway, which now glowed a vibrant emerald, she glimpsed two more figures hurtling toward them. Shouts of joy erupted from the children and Belle as Rumplestiltskin and his son, appearing no older than he had when she had offered the boy her advice, scrambled into the room. She watched as Belle rushed forward, embracing the man tightly and nearly squashing the tiny boy she held in the process, though he seemed overjoyed as well at the pair's arrival.

"There's only one person left," Rumplestiltskin informed aloud, and the Blue Fairy was surprised to see something like concern written in his features as his eyes took in the way she and Nova struggled.

The portal sputtered as the Blue Fairy felt her energy begin to fade, her very bones and muscles throbbing as she fought to continue channeling magic into it. Nova appeared as though she might soon be sick, her face ashen and dewed with sweat. With all her might, she hoped that whoever they were expecting arrived soon.

As though in answer to her silent pleas, a young woman suddenly tumbled through the doorway, landing in a heap on the floor. With a gasp the Blue Fairy cut off her magic, her knees shaking violently as she braced herself on the back of a nearby sofa. Nova fell against the wall, panting heavily but smiling as she took in the crowd standing before them.

"What—how—" The Blue Fairy attempted to speak, but when the girl on the floor straightened to her feet, her voice was once more paralyzed with shock.

Brushing her long, flaming red hair out of her face with trembling hands, stood Ruadh, one of the fairies the Rheul Ghorm had sent to Neverland upon learning that the boy's father had abandoned him. She watched as the fairy—now human-sized, just as herself and the other fairies in Storybrooke were—glanced over her own shoulder, running a hand along her back.

"It's gone," she heard Ruadh mumble, "My scar—" Her eyes flooded with tears as she continued to trace her fingers along her shoulder blade.

"Now you can start again," Baelfire said gently, his gaze tender and understanding as he regarded the fairy, "Just like us."

The Blue Fairy watched the exchange, her head swimming as she strove to grasp what exactly was going on. Unable to stand for both exhaustion and sheer astonishment, she finally collapsed onto the sofa.

"How is this possible?" She breathed, taking in her old friend and the rest of the group standing in the room, "You only left moments ago...What happened?"

To her surprise it was Rumplestiltskin who answered, chuckling lightly as he stepped nearer. "We've been gone for far longer than a few moments; at least, that's how it seemed." He raised a hand to gesture at everyone else who had preceded him through the portal. "These are the Lost Boys, my son's friends from Neverland. And I believe you know Ruadh."

"So, you-you managed to save him?" The Blue Fairy stuttered, unadulterated relief now joining the utter bewilderment whirring in her mind as she stared up at the man.

"Yes," he answered with a light smile, and she felt certain this must be a dream: the Dark One, smiling at her...and not in a manner that suggested malicious intent.

"I no longer have my powers," he continued, as though reading her thoughts, "My curse is broken." At the last word he glanced over at Belle tenderly, before returning his attention to the Blue Fairy.

His expression grew solemn then, and as he strode over to her she felt an instinctive twinge of fear, wondering if she should not have expended so much magic on the portal, leaving herself ultimately defenseless before him.

But it seemed her worries were futile. Gazing down at her, his brow furrowed in thought, Rumplestiltskin outstretched his hand, and it took her a moment to realize that he was offering it for her to shake. Unable to fight the weak, but bemused smile curving the corners of her mouth, the Blue Fairy slid her hand into his.

"Thank you," Rumplestiltskin said quietly, and one look into his eyes informed her that his gratitude was actually sincere.

"You're welcome," the Rheul Ghorm breathed in response, and she knew she must be staring at him as though he were an entirely different person. Indeed, it seemed as though he were a changed man, and nothing in her millennia of existence could have prepared her for such a miracle.

As she watched him press a soft kiss to Belle's forehead, before wrapping his arm around his son's shoulders and turning to address the rest of the children, she vowed that she would do everything in her power to protect the former Dark One and his family from any threats. It was not every day that a man such as Rumplestiltskin achieved his own redemption, and lived to experience it.

Feeling her lips stretch into a broader smile, she met Nova's and Ruadh's gazes across the room, knowing that they, too, realized they were witnessing something far too precious for words.

It was the beginning of a happy ending to an extraordinary story, one which would be told for countless years to come:

A tale, as old as time.

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The End

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A/N: We've a few ideas floating around our heads concerning an Epilogue. Interested? ;)