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Why did he agree to come to the Underworld on that unlikely and most probably futile quest of resurrecting the pirate? Why didn't he refuse Miss Swan when she asked him — not too nicely, by the way, blackmailing and threatening? She said that if he didn't help her she'd tell Belle that he is the Dark One again, and he pretended to fear that, and agreed to go. Only the Savior and her good family could believe that his reasons were so simple. For one, he was not a fool. He knew that if Charmings, his grandson, Emma, Regina and her thief are aware of his "secret" it would be virtually impossible to keep it from Belle; she was naive and prone to believe the best, but she was not blind or deaf or stupid. She would have realized the truth soon enough even if none of them blurted it out, and with Snow White around blurting things out was a certainty rather than a possibility. No, his reason for coming was not their promised silence.
His reasons were complicated, and he had time to analyze them while they were traveling across dark waters in a ghostly boat he summoned with his blood — the blood of the person who has been "to hell and back again". Not true, actually — he hasn't been in Hell when he died, but the fact of dying and coming back to life was apparently enough. One of his reasons, a superficial and a rather fleeting one, was kindness — one doesn't become an official hero without retaining traces of this silly quality. He did feel bad about the pirate's death — that boy sacrificed himself, albeit foolishly, and he benefited from that sacrifice, and it pained him to see lovers suffer in front of his eyes, and if there was a chance to bring the boy back — well, why not try it, even if he personally thought the chance was a very slim one?
His other reason was his unwillingness to deceive Belle. He didn't want to lie to her, not if it could be avoided. He knew he resolved to keep her in the dark when she came back to him — he felt that the truth about their love would crush her; she wouldn't be able to accept that she wasn't destined to save and change him, that she was actually in love with his darkness. He wanted to spare her this realization — to keep the truth hidden from her as long as possible. But as soon as she fell asleep in his arms he realized that deceiving her was nigh on impossible. And when she woke up and looked at him with her bright beautiful eyes, looked at him with love and fulfillment, he had to start lying, and hated every second of it. He didn't know what to do — how to break the news to her. Stalling seemed a good idea; going away on a noble mission to the underworld was as good a way to stall and delay the inevitable as any other.
But his main reason — the one he was unwilling to admit even to himself — was different. It was deeper, and more painful. It was mixed and troubled and contradictory.
He went into the Underworld because there was a chance that he would see his son again. It was a painful and sad hope, that one, and a very selfish one. If his son was still there, in that realm of trapped souls, it was only because he still had some unresolved business — because his soul was not ready to move on to a better place. What kind of a father would hope that his child was placed in such position? A weak and selfish one. He hoped, with all his heart, that Bae wasn't there — that his boy found peace. But he hoped, just as fervently that he would see him again, and talk to him again, and embrace him once more, and perhaps help him to resolve his issues, and to move on. He wanted to feel a parent once again — he wanted another reunion with his boy.
His thoughts were full of Bae as they descended. He kept thinking of him, remembering him, he indulged in his grief and in his memories, as he never let himself indulge before for fear of breaking apart.
It was a cruel thing that, sensing their coming, his boy did appeal to them — but he chose to speak Emma, the woman he loved and who already loved another, not to his suffering father.
It was incredibly ironic that among all things he lovingly remembered about his son he failed to think of one episode of their life that now placed him in his hardest predicament.
When he was reminded of it, most painfully, it came back — with terrible clarity. That day in the forest, when he and Bae had so much fun that he almost managed to shut off his mind to Milah's constant nagging. The sun, the sound of birds, the scent of moss and falling leaves. His exasperation with Milah, who was so preoccupied with gathering wood that she missed the glory of the day completely.
Bae's outcry as the snake bit him.
His frightened, pallid small face, covered with sweat.
His sweet mind, drifting away so rapidly.
The rest of the day went in a terrible blur. Milah screaming and raging at him. Their rush to find a doctor. Their unexpected meeting with that... warlock on the forest path. Why was he there? Was it really a coincidence? He believed it then but now, knowing so much more about the way magic worked and knowing everything about ways darkness moved in human world, he could hardly believe in such a coincidence. Darkness searched for desperate souls, it was always on the lookout of them, and goodness knows he and his wife were desperate that day. Milah succumbed to the lure of darkness at once — when they understood they couldn't pay for the magical potion that could save their boy she immediately suggested the vilest crime. She wanted the man killed and the potion stolen. Even worse, she wanted her mild and kind husband to do the deed; she wanted violence perpetrated by innocent hands, wanted his soul corrupted. Not "she", of course — darkness spoke through her.
All in all, he actually did well that day. Killing the warlock was impossible, his whole being revolted against it. It was not cowardice. It was... Integrity. There are some things good people simply do not do. Not if they have an alternative. And he was a good man then.
Milah said that the warlock duped him — tricked him into a terrible, life-changing deal, into making a decision he had no right to make on his own. He promised the man his second-born child in exchange for Bae's life. But despite his frantic fear for his son, despite his panic he was not duped, or tricked. He remembered that moment clearly now — the moment when the deal was mentioned and explained. His mind became unbelievably cool and collected. He considered everything carefully, though swiftly.
His wife hated and despised him. They haven't shared a bed in months; he didn't approach her for any bodily pleasures for months, he knew she'd only tolerate him and would have no qualms showing her attitude, and he was proud enough not to subject himself to humiliation.
The chance that they would share a bed and have another child was simply non-existent.
He traded the thing he would never have — a second child — for the life of the dearest person he had in the world: his son.
It was actually a good deal. At the time, being the person he was then and leading the life he led, he risked nothing.
Who would have known his wife would abandon him for a pirate, and he would be left alone with his son, and by his inability to protect him would be forced to become the Dark One, and live eternally? Who would have known he would love other women but his wife? Who would have known he would ever want another child? Who would have thought his contract with warlock wouldn't be terminated by his death?
Who would have though that, years and years from that time, a woman who wasn't even born when he made the deal would enter his life, and fill it with pain and rapture, and would eventually become pregnant after a single passionate night of impossible reunion?
Darkness knew. His fate, his never tiring torturer, knew. But he didn't.
When he learned of it — when he addressed the crystal ball wishing to see his child and meaning Bae, and saw Belle, glowing and radiant with early pregnancy of which she was yet unaware, he nearly fainted. It was impossible, incredible; it must have been some mistake. It was extremely untimely. And even though at the moment he hadn't yet realized that his deal was still operational, that Hades bought his contract from the dead warlock, he still wasn't glad. Not at all.
It was wrong for them to have a child — at that time, and probably ever. Things were too complicated, too fragile between him and Belle. They had too much to resolve between them before they could start a family.
He didn't want a child to bind her to him — he wanted her love, not her obligations and duty.
He didn't want another child when he still wasn't over Bae's loss — as if he ever could be over it. One does not replace a dead child so easily, by having another. A child is not a toy for parents — it is a person whom one needs to want to know. One has to want a child. To be ready to devote one's self to parenthood. And he didn't want to know another child that wasn't Bae. He was not ready for being a parent again so soon after he failed parenthood the first time.
He was not ready. And neither was she. How could she be ready if she hardly knew her own mind, and changed her decisions most radically within an hour?
Yet, being a man he was, the moment he learned of the child, the moment he realized it was in peril because of that old deal of his, his parental instincts kicked in. Devotion. Readiness to sacrifice anything. Immense, unbearable tenderness.
Love.
He did love this child already, against his better judgment. And he knew he would do literally anything to protect it. He would serve Hades and help him outwit the good ones, as much as he could. Meanwhile he would trick and twist and search for loopholes, just as he did to save Bae — he would do exactly those same things again; commit same mistakes, make same amends. But keeping Belle out of it was essential. He knew what knowing all circumstances of the situation would do to her, how it would affect her, how it would complicate things between them. She would panic. She would jump to conclusions and do all sorts of sudden and silly things, and complicate matters no end.
He had to solve the problem without her knowing it ever existed, and then he would have to face her and tell her everything. The less she knew about his methods, the better. Ignorance in this particular instant was really bliss for her.
And keeping her out of it seemed so easy. She was in another realm, patiently waiting for him; believing in him, for once. He would do all he had to do here, and then come back to her triumphant.
It was a good, sound plan, and he stuck to it. Tricked Hades into believing him crushed and obedient, meanwhile watching him — looking for a weak spot, for a vulnerability that would enable him to overcome. About setting the heroes up and losing their trust he had no qualms: they never gave him a second thought, never considered his feelings or interests, and they had extraordinary ability to survive anything, so he was pretty sure he wouldn't do them much harm. Some of the things he had to do he actually enjoyed. Like getting rid of Milah for the second time, for example. He did not plan to destroy her — if Hades hadn't meddled he would gladly see her move further, though the idea that, having moved on, she would actually have a chance to see Bae when he, being immortal, would never meet him again did pain him. Yet when he had to throw her into the river of lost souls, he did not regret it. She was still as hard as nails in death as when she was alive; still as selfish — he thoroughly enjoyed the look on her face when he told her that her pirate now loved another, and all her regrets about having left Bae had an air of self-justification. Hers was a lost soul, and she went were she belonged.
He planned his steps as carefully as he could. But his fate never wavered in its' readiness to strike him.
However carefully he planned, still there were things he couldn't predict or prevent. Like Belle being near Zelena at the very moment when he created a portal to bring Hades his lost girlfriend. Like Belle falling into that portal with the witch, getting herself into the Underworld, and walking into his shop with a baby in her arms and bewildered look on her face.
When he saw her with that baby, his heart nearly stopped. For an instant he thought Hades had duped him somehow, and he lost track of real time. Could it have been that whole nine months elapsed while he was down here? Could it be their child in her arms — could it be that she brought it — her — directly to Hades before he could solve the problem with the contract?
He realized the truth fast enough, but this brief moment of horror showed him one thing with absolute clarity: he had to be honest with Belle. Things were difficult enough without his evasions. She was here now, the damage was done — he would have to convince her that only together could they fight their perils, only together could they win.
He knew it would be difficult — he knew her stubborn nature all too well. But he did hope that after all her persuasions to trust her she would at least appreciate his honesty.
Vain hope it proved to be.
He was honest with her — cruelly, devastatingly honest. No trying to spare her feelings — the situation was too grave (if the pun could be forgiven) for delicacy. He told her who he was. He told her that he would forever be what he was, for such was his choice and his nature. He told her what he knew for some time and what she, he was sure, also suspected for some time — that if she did love him, she loved the man he was, not the man she imagined him to be. They had proof of that, after all — she left him when he was good, and came back to him when he became dark again. Their love was not a thing that promised better future if he changed — their love was here and now, and they had to live it... Unconditionally.
He could accept that.
For the first time in all their relationship he dared to voice what he had felt for some time: if she loved him truly, she had to accept him. He had a right to be what he was. He had a right to be loved for what he was. Over the course of their love, he did everything she asked of him — he strove to be better, he became better, he even died, and he did change into a good man — a hero. Nothing suited her — she always demanded more. Enough of this.
Enough humiliation and tearful regrets. He felt guilty and inadequate all their life, all because she uncompromisingly believed in a fairy-tale. In a way, she was a bit like his first wife — forever trying to bully him into being a different person. Enough. They have to face each other as equals now.
She fell in love with him when he was a green monster, after all. She promised him forever then. It was time she faced her true feelings.
He spoke very gently, but he was honest. He told her the truth. Not a word of lies, not a single evasion. He offered her the cleanest deal in his life. What you see is what you get, dearie. Take it or leave it.
She did not appreciate his new approach. She reacted with all her usual stubbornness, pride, and moral rectitude. She cannot "condone" his darkness, she said — that was a strong choice of words for a young princess when spoken to an ancient wizard, really. She reproached him for "selling her baby" — he didn't bother to stop her and point out the fact that she wasn't even born when that deal was made, so he surely didn't make it to spite her. He did not stress the baby question at all, in fact, for she looked as if she hadn't quite taken it in — and he couldn't blame her. It was sudden and unspeakably weird — him telling her the news...
She looked horrified and insulted when he suggested that she actually loved him as he was.
He could understand that — she needed time. All that was too much and too sudden for her, it shook her self-esteem. He stood patiently silent as she voiced her indignation: he knew her well, and all her reproaches were familiar. But he didn't yield and didn't apologize, as he usually did in the past. That would have been a lie. And they could afford no lies between them now.
She stormed out of his shop in silent fury, and he smiled at her retreating back. She stormed out of his life before, and she wasn't expecting their child then. He knew she'd gradually come to her senses and would get to see his point.
She was a clever girl, his little princess.
Well he got what he decided upon, after all — he was honest with her. He went to hell to avoid this confrontation, but he did face it now and it felt good. And it was the right thing to do.
When she did come back, in a much calmer mood, with new absurd demands for him — that he must use only light magic and do only good things to save their baby — he smiled at her with infinite tenderness, which in her indignation she probably mistook for wicked glee. She was so stubborn in her attempts to stick to her ways, to her version of what was true and just. It was so much like her to insist on the impossible, to believe in goodness despite overwhelming circumstances. That was what he loved in her so much — she hurt him a lot because of this integrity of hers, but that was what he admired, and what brought him hope always. She was always true and honest, even when she was wrong; she was like a patch of blue sky among clouds, like a ray of light in a dim room. Forever fighting for the lost cause, never accepting defeat, and fighting honestly. For her means would never be justified by the end, she would accept no shades: doing bad things for good reasons was still bad, one couldn't justify evil even by willingness to protect your loved ones, and that was that. It was so touching, and so brave, and so her. He loved her for it, and he was ready to play along even if just to please her.
The next few hours, when they searched for ways to defeat Hades with "good means", felt like the best times they had together yet. They were bickering all the time, but they were completely open with each other — not a single false note in their whole attitude towards each other. She snapped at him, he teased her with no attempt to appraise her; he ironically succumbed to her, never failing to show his amusement at her stubbornness, she was exasperated by his quips, but not really angry, and he saw her eyes glow as they haven't glowed for a very long time... She loved their honest fight, their will struggle just as much as he did. It felt so fresh — invigorating, like flirting, almost. It rejuvenated their feelings — they behaved strangely alike to the times when they first met in the Dark Castle, when she pocked and probed to find out his secrets, and he quipped away to disguise his attraction. He could tell that she saw him with new eyes — that she began to appreciate the truth of what he told her about their relationship.
But then her fiancé Gaston came along to spoil things — just as he did back then.
He had to confess to himself that he sometimes felt slightly guilty about killing this boy — well, turning him into a pretty flower, actually: it was Belle who unwittingly finished the job, cutting the stem of the rose and thus effectively cutting the boy in half, after which it would have been unadvisable and cruel to turn him into a human being again. He turned him into a flower impulsively, being hurt by Belle's words — by her mention of his ugliness. He sometimes thought that he acted too harshly — that boy, who looked so honest and honorable, probably didn't deserve to die.
So he was secretly glad to learn that Gaston actually deserved his fate — he was cruel, and stubborn, and selfish, and didn't love her. But she had to believe the best, as always, of course. She chose to treat their conflict with her fiancé as a battle ground for her husband's goodness, urging him to be kind, forgiving and unresisting. He indulged her for a while, until treating Gaston nicely became completely unreasonable.
He excused himself and left her alone to resolve matters on his own, and that was a mistake. Not because she would be shocked by his actions — that mood of freshness that sat upon them would have acted in his favor, she would have raged a bit, but would have come around if things were given their free course. The mistake was in leaving her alone for, while she was alone and unprotected, Hades approached her and used his poisonous tongue to corrupt her mind.
He underestimated this "God of the Underworld"; ancient bastard could act subtly when he wanted to. He attacked Belle where she was most vulnerable — he placed her in front of a moral dilemma, gave her a selfish choice: to stand by and watch two people whom she wanted to save destroy each other. If only she kept away from their fight, her problem — the safety of her future child — would be solved. For her, that was an impossible choice — she could never stay away from fights, she always had to meddle and insist on her version of right and wrong, despite the harm it would do her personally.
"Stay away and let your men fight each other; let one of them be defeated, and your child will be safe", Hades said. Stay away. Don't stick your nose into men's business. Your husband would most certainly win; your fiancé would be overcome and lost, but it is not such a big loss, is it? Don't interrupt, don't try to save anyone, don't try to right the wrongs...
All that was impossible for her.
Hades asked her to do the only thing she was incapable of — to refrain from judgment.
Of course he would do that — he couldn't stand to see them united against him, he had to destroy their fragile new understanding.
And he succeeded.
When Belle appeared on the pier as he was holding Gaston in his grasp, ready to send yet another lost soul to where it belonged, he sensed that things were wrong — sensed it at once. She was different from the last time he saw her — barely an hour ago. The openness was gone — she was closed and collected, her mind set on some task that she wanted to keep secret from him. He knew that look of wild determination on her face — saw it before, when she tried to control him with the dagger, and it never promised anything good.
Yet he let her walk up to him, and look into his eyes — what else could he do? And he let her speak to him, and tell him sweetest words she ever uttered. That he was right, and she loved both sides of him — always did and always will.
And he could see it in her eyes that she was lying. How could he know? She never lied to him before, and that was exactly why and how he knew.
A sense of terrible doom set upon him even before she spoke her last tenderly deceitful words. Something awful was happening to him and to her.
Yet he could do nothing to prevent it. He couldn't stop her, couldn't tell her that he saw through her deceit — he would never, ever be able to hurt her so much.
All he could do was kiss her with desperate sadness, pretending to believe her, and all sweetness was gone from her lips, they were bitter, and he stood drinking in this bitterness and thinking: "Whatever happens, let it happen. Let her think she won. Let me die if such is her choice. Anything to make her feel better. Anything..."
Their newfound honesty was gone in an instant. He deceived her again — to spare her, as always.
She deceived him... For the first in her life, she willingly deceived him, and something terrible gripped his heart.
So he stood motionless, his lips pressed to hers as she, thinking herself very clever and cunning, took his dagger and commanded him not to hurt her fiancé.
Things happened so quickly after that — he hardly had time to register them. Gaston attacked him at once, and she, horrified and acting on pure instinct, pushed the attacker off the pier and into the water — into the river of lost souls. Her gesture was impulsive and touching, just as her move to shield him from the thief's arrow a long time ago in the Dark Castle, but what a difference there was this time... What was a simple outburst of affection then had gravest consequences now. She acted to protect her husband, and destroyed a human soul. And Hades appeared on the scene immediately to strike his final blow — to tell her that she did not honor the conditions of the deal he offered her, and her baby was still in peril.
She has done something terrible, and it was all in vain.
He could see how this realization crushed her — how despair and horror filled her eyes. She did something truly dark, and she couldn't bear it. She flung herself into his embrace, and her head rested heavily on his chest and, as he caressed her hair and whispered soothing words he knew that all was in vain. He couldn't help her. Darkness gripped her, darkness of guilt and despair, making her close her heart. How well he knew the feeling. How fervently he hoped she would never know it...
She sobbed in his arms, and he kept repeating, helplessly: "I never wanted this to happen to you. I am so sorry..." But in his heart of hearts he knew that the damage to her soul was done before she pushed Gaston — before her impulse to help him made her do a dark deed. She acted with good intentions, and it ended in darkness, and that was torturing her, but she only saw the surface of events.
The truth was that the damage was already done the moment when she looked into his eyes and lied to him. That was when she changed — that was when evil became a possibility for her, became her choice, even if briefly. She did something she always abhorred, something for which she always blamed him — briefly, end justified the means for her, and she deceived her loved one. And now everything was lost... She would never forgive herself. She would never forgive him. And although he knew it was not his fault, that didn't make things any better.
Ironic, that: he was always afraid that he'd corrupt her, but in the end he didn't — her own pride corrupted her. But that was no consolation at all. Even as she wept on his chest he felt her heart turning away from him, her soul getting colder, her mind closing, loneliness and grief confusing her, making her think that isolation was the only way to survive the change.
Darkness does that to people. He knew that better than anyone in the world. He lived through that with his son, and then with her. It took him ages to accept his changed heart, to realize that darkness and grief are not the end — one could live with them as long as one is open to hope; open to love. It took him ages to open to her.
And now their openness ended and with it all chances to make them accept each other honestly and equally ended.
She would never trust him now, for she would never trust herself.
Their new beginning was lost.
He looked beyond her shoulder, trembling as she sobbed, and saw darkness, his old familiar friend, gathering under the reddish sky, ready to embrace them both. And however hard he tried, he knew he couldn't protect her from this darkness — not any more.
It was part of her now, just as it was part of him.
