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He has been through this before. He had felt this rage and helplessness — once in his very distant past, when he lost Bae, when his adored boy took things into his hands, listened to the advise fairies gave him, and used magic to escape from his doomed father. He had felt them again much later, when the pirate hurt Belle and she fell over Storybrooke's town line, losing her memory and forgetting her love for him, and he couldn't do anything to save her. He remembered his anguish and his panicked attempts to do something — anything to rectify the situation. He remembered how he raged through all enchanted lands trying to find a way to reunite him with his son. He remembered how he kissed Belle's unresponsive lips, hoping against hope that true love's kiss would indeed break any curse, even if one of the lovers doesn't remember their true love ever existed.
He was frantic then, and did many mistakes. On both those occasions he was afraid he would lose his mind and go insane. It would have been natural for him to feel like that again now.
His wife did something unspeakable and most probably irredeemable. He wasn't sure that what she'd done could be undone. She used darkest magic against herself and their unborn child. She put them both under a sleeping curse; apart from the fact that he wasn't sure anyone could wake her up — he didn't trust her father's love or even his willingness to help, for that matter, — he was worried sick about after-effects the curse would have. It was a mysterious curse, and very dangerous one. It was impossible to predict if the sleep affecting the cursed would be peaceful or nightmarish. It was impossible to predict how long it would last before it became unbreakable — before it turned into actual death, not the close imitation of it.
That alone would have been enough to turn him desperate once.
His wife turned to his bitterest enemy for help, and got that "help" from the woman who murdered Bae. She trusted this woman better than she trusted her husband.
That alone would have been enough to turn him angry and bitter once.
He wondered why that didn't happen. He was worried. He was angry. He was fully aware of the gravity of the situation — of all the dangers it held. Yet there was no panic — no desperation. He remained remarkably cold-headed and collected. He lost no time in tears and anger. As Belle fell into his embrace, and he lowered her on the couch, he sat by her side for several moments, holding her still hand and thinking. Weighing up his chances, thinking through his possible actions — things he could and would do to save her. He was calm. Shocked, naturally, and bereft, but not frantic.
Perhaps that was madness — perhaps his mind finally fell over the edge of reason and sought hope in the impossible. Yet he had no choice but to act now, anyway. Mad or sane, he had to do things he knew were necessary, and face consequences later, when his goals were achieved. And there was nothing he couldn't or wouldn't do for her sake.
What surprised him most was the fact that he wasn't angry with Belle for what she did. She acted in the most foolish way. She never gave him a chance to explain to her the true state of things: that Hades did not want to speed up her pregnancy — on the contrary, he wanted to have his leverage on the Dark One for as long as he could, and he didn't have the power to do it anyway. She said terrible things — that she didn't believe in their love, that she trusted everyone around more than she trusted him. She put herself and his child in terrible danger. Yet through all these deeds, offensive for him as they were, he saw something else. Yes, she showed him deepest resentment, so it seemed on the surface of things. But in the very act of her escape from him, escape that might become final if he didn't find a way to save her, he saw something that gave him hope — that made him calm and sure of himself.
In her refusal to act, she has given him free reign to act on his own. In her refusal to influence his actions, she had shown him her ultimate trust. She silently approved of anything — everything — he had to do now. It was her unspoken way of telling him that he was right — he could act as he saw fit. She wanted no part in his doings, but she showed her belief that he would be successful. She couldn't "condone" what he had to do, but she wouldn't oppose him and reproach him. She actually said the words — "do whatever it takes", she said.
She didn't need to know what he would do; what we don't know doesn't hurt us, ignorance is bliss. But she as good as said that he has her... approval for what needs to be done.
Perhaps that was why he felt so calm, despite everything.
So he did what he had to do. He employed the help of his treacherous father to overcome Hades and force him to destroy the contract — to cancel the deal about his second-born child. He enjoyed it, actually: it was a pleasure to kidnap the witch, and to sneer at her for never, ever would he believe that she gave Belle the sleeping curse to help her, not to spite him. He was proud of the loophole he found in the deal he made with her in the New York hospital: he promised he wouldn't hurt her, but his father gave no such promise and proved a most useful tool. When the contract was destroyed, and he was careful to check that it really happened, listening to the delicate twists of magic as that particular deal was broken, he felt no qualms at abandoning his father alone on the battlefield. Why would he? He did exactly what his father would do: got what he wanted, and got away.
And after that, when he had to get rid of his father altogether, he felt no pain and no regret — again. From the very start he carefully considered his father as an ally, despite everything he knew about him. He had to give him the benefit of doubt — he killed him out of love, and he genuinely believed that this love could have altered things between them. But the moment he saw him here in the Underworld he knew he was wrong. If he would have appeared before him as his real, old self he would have known that the man changed and regretted his selfish wickedness. But what he saw instead was that same evil boy — the same cruel creature with youthful look and ancient soul, rotten to the core. He knew he could use him, but he knew better than to trust him.
So when he faced a choice — to hurt Regina, his adopted child, and kill her lover, or trick his cruel father into finality of death, it was no choice at all. He pretended to take the thief's heart, to place it into Pan's dead chest, and than replaced it, preparing a fake filled with water from the river of lost souls. The thief was a good man and loved his queen. His father was hopeless and deserved to be gone forever. He did the whole thing with a secret smile. It was just as he said to Belle: "If you wanted me to be a better man, I became one. But if you want me to be a different man..." He was not different — he was the Dark One all right. But he was better.
Still, Belle probably wouldn't agree — wouldn't approve. But she was asleep.
As to her sleep... With this, he also had to act in the way he thought best.
Methodically, he tried the easiest, the most obvious way first. He did try to wake her with a kiss. How romantic, how sweet it would have been if it worked!.. How gratifying for her, how wonderfully surprising and enlightening for him. Yet of course it didn't work. Perhaps his father was right, and the kiss didn't work because she didn't believe in their love any more — because her soul refused to be drawn into the reality of such a love as they had. Perhaps he was right, and his own soul wasn't... light and hopeful enough for the kiss to work. Magic is powerless when the wizard himself cannot believe in it. Perhaps the kiss didn't work because it was... too planned. All other true love's kisses he ever heard of were... unpremeditated. They were born out of extreme emotion — out of hope or despair, like the kiss that woke Snow White: her prince was just saying good-bye, he didn't expect miracles. When Belle kissed him in his castle, she was just a naive child, eager for adventure, unaware of consequences. Emma kissed her son in grief and despair, believing in magic, but not in the actual miracle. Regina's kiss for Henry was just a gesture of joy — she didn't think, didn't plan a miracle too. Perhaps these kisses worked because the kissers acted on impulse. Both times he tried the true love's kiss on Belle, he did it consciously, and perhaps that hindered him.
Or perhaps the kiss didn't work because their fate wasn't ready to yield — not yet. It would have been too wonderful and too easy if he just woke her with a kiss, and they would have proceeded to live happily ever after. It would have been a lovely tale, but not their tale.
They had to do things the hard way. Always did, always would.
He had to get her out of hell first — to get her into the world were his magic was most powerful. He hesitated slightly before he put her into the Pandora's box: it was no fun being inside it, as he remembered all too clearly. But most suffering came from being detached from one's physical body, and her mind was detached from her body anyway by the sleeping curse. On the other hand, most harm from the curse affected the body, so perhaps if her body was... unsubstantial, so to speak, less harm would befall it. All in all, he decided to risk it.
It felt weirdly comforting to be able to carry her around with him, having her close all the time. It felt strangely nice to be able to talk to her all the time, telling her his plans, reassuring her that all would be well, imagining her comforted smiles and grateful nods.
Perhaps he was mad, after all.
He carried on, regardless.
When her father refused to help and wake her up, he was not surprised at all. He knew that stupid oaf would react in this way, and he knew he wouldn't have succeeded anyway. He hated the Dark One much more than he loved his own daughter. If he was ready to leave her in danger just to spite her husband, if he disregarded his daughter's interests in such a way, out of his own pride, his kiss wouldn't have worked — that was certain. So he had to think of something else — he needed more power to overcome one of the most powerful curses in the world.
He waited while Hades created his ancient crystal. He watched in horror and dismay how the crystal was used — it killed the man Regina loved. He wondered if he could have prevented it... He did try to prevent it — he warned Hades not to act foolishly. He knew, in the depth of his heart, that he couldn't really do anything: with these people, Hades and his crazy girlfriend, he was dealing with madness extreme even for him, with actions and reactions totally unpredictable, for they were beyond logic.
The very fact that he cared — that he regretted this event and felt bad about it showed how much he changed. He mentioned it to Belle: this was something she would have appreciated.
He got hold of the crystal, and started gathering magic from all the sources he could find. That felt slightly like gathering magic into Merlin's hat, but oh how different his reasons were now! He was doing it for her, and no one could accuse him of anything different...
Unfortunately, his dearest friends and relatives, the good ones, didn't stop to appreciate the difference — they started accusing without bothering to learn his reasons. What they saw was "Dark One trying to achieve extreme power again". They never stopped to ask his plans. They rushed into the fight without another word. His grandson especially eager, active, and foolish.
This boy was uncannily like Bae, really, when he was a teenager. Just as rash, with the same eagerness for goodness, with the same inability to stop and think properly. Imaginative and resourceful, too: he could only admire the way the boy stole the crystal from him using the author's pen. Nevertheless, this whole thing was bothersome — it meant additional trouble where there could have been none. Traveling to New York, which he disliked. Having to come into open conflict with the boy, raising the anger of his two mothers. He didn't need all that — he would have done without interruptions, and he was angry and slightly distracted when he finally got the crystal back and set the scene in his hotel room in New York, getting ready to do the most important act of magic he ever performed: extracting Belle from the box, and waking her up — overcoming the most powerful curse he ever dealt with.
He regarded the hotel room with satisfaction as he sat her box on the huge double bed. On a second thought, it was a good thing that he had to do it in New York. She would be surprised and enchanted to wake up in a new unfamiliar place. She always wanted to travel, and he took her somewhere different. She would like this room. They can use the bed at once — he pictured her on the bed, relaxed and easy, opening her eyes and seeing him, her gaze slowly filling with wonder at him — at his ability to achieve what he promised her: to save their child, to wake her up. He pictured her arms extended to greet him, her lips parting in a smile, and he could already feel the sweetness of her kiss.
He missed her so much. He wanted to see her, and to hold her, and to hear her answer him.
She would love waking up here, and being here with him, and falling asleep again, exhausted by their love, and waking up again to glorious hunger for his kisses and for excellent breakfast, and she would love taking a stroll across New York, so exiting and wonderful for her. He would take her around town. He would take her to the movies and to Broadway — she had never seen a live show, and he would take her to see the one that told their love story, and they would laugh and comment on the differences and be charmed by naive and touching simplicity of the tale.
They would do all sorts of wonderful things here, and who knows — perhaps they would never come back to Storybrooke. Why would they? There was nothing there to hold them, really.
He was so engrossed by these pleasant dreams that he nearly missed the stirring of magic around him — that strange whirlwind that suddenly appeared in the room, disturbing things, trying to suck something inside it. The crystal — someone was trying to steal the crystal, he was sure of that: Henry already stole it once, he probably thought of something again, possibly with the help of his mothers...
He turned to check the crystal and found it placed safely on the table, just as it was before.
He turned back to the bed and found Belle gone.
He must have looked a disgrace as he frantically searched the bed, hoping against hope that his senses tricked him, that he just somehow misplaced the box. His heart told him there was no mistake — she was gone, she wasn't with him in the room any more, and he wept and screamed, knowing that his emotions gathered a small tornado over the hotel, the storm of his grief and rage turning into an actual hurricane; he stormed as he never did before... No, that was wrong — he did feel like this before, and acted the same when Bae jumped into the pit of green light created by the magical bean, and was lost to him for ages. He committed the same mistake as he did then, again — he had to chose between his son and his dagger then, and between his box and his crystal now, and he chose magic over love yet again!..
But he didn't! This time, he was unaware there even was a choice. There were people eager to steal the crystal, and he knew it. But there was no one in the world who needed or wanted Belle, for any reason at all.
Unless somebody learned that she was dear to him. Unless somebody wanted to influence him through her.
With great effort, he calmed himself down. He sat on the bed, trembling, trying to gather his thoughts — trying to analyze what happened and find a clue as to who was responsible. As soon as he reigned in his panic he started to unwind the sequence of magical events — that whirlwind left traces, and he could read them. It was created by a wand, and it came from some realm unknown to him. But the wand itself was familiar — it was the wind possessed by Merlin's apprentice, and he knew only one witch who could use it: Zelena. She must have gotten herself into a different realm, and lost her wand there. For the magic used wasn't hers — it was unfamiliar to him. He had a new adversary — someone who wanted something from him, and used his wife as leverage. Not many wizards powerful enough to do such magic knew about her — knew that she was dear to him. Someone must have blabbered — he did not really care, but he'd bet anyone anything it was Snow White: that lovely lady had the loosest tongue in all magical realms.
Still, that didn't matter now. The only thing that mattered was finding that unknown realm, and getting Belle back. He was powerful enough to do that. He only needed some time, and concentration, and something to trace Zelena.
The hurricane started to gather over his hotel once again — he was collecting his powers for opening the portal to the unknown. Regina and Emma, coming to stop whatever he was doing, came in handy, actually — he could use them, they could help, and Regina's blood was necessary to trace her sister. He had to handle it to them — even they realized the graveness of the situation when he explained it to them and didn't try to oppose him, for once.
And than this impossible boy, his grandson, came along, powered by all the stupidity of his age and all the turbulence of teenage emotions, and took away his magic.
Really, it was high time somebody would teach this boy some manners. Or anything, in fact — his mothers were completely incapable of controlling the youngster!
Of course the boy was filled with regret the moment he realized what happened. But the deed was done... And had to be undone.
As they went to Chinatown in quest of the Dragon, a cheep wizard who practiced there, he had a hard time calming himself down. Goodness knew what was happening to Belle. Was she in danger? Would he be able to save her — to help? He had no patience for the stupid Chinaman as he told him he wouldn't help someone "with such a dark heart". He almost snorted with irritation — this fellow used dark magic all right, there were traces of it all over his shop, and used it for his own gain, for a price, yet he had the nerve to preach him!
The old man was too weak to help, anyway.
But he gave his grandson an idea, and he watched in wonder as the boy worked it out. Peter Pan was right about the boy — his ability to believe the impossible was immense — unlimited. A true believer indeed. And so he saw, with his own amazed eyes, how the boy's eager heart gathered treads of magic, so tiny as to be almost unsubstantial, from the magicless world around him. He made a fool of himself as he talked to people on the square, as he tried to convince them that the fountain in the middle of it was something akin to a wishing well and would be able to magically return something that was lost — his family. He made a fool of himself, but he got what he wanted — people believed him, and magic started happening.
He looked so much like Bae as he did it. Just as stubborn and determined and... hopeful. And, as he watched his grandson achieve the impossible, as he saw water in the fountain glow with magic he suddenly realized one thing that made him unbearably sad. There was magic in this world — it was here all along, though it was different from the one he always known, and was trickier to work. Yet this world, which was supposed to be the world without magic, had it. And that meant that Bae was wrong to escape here: he wanted to live in a place with no magic, but that was impossible. And he was wrong to fear this world — he wouldn't have lost his power here, it would have mutated, changed, but it wouldn't have been lost. Their separation, so tragic and affecting them both so deeply, was pointless, unreasonable — it was based on the false assumption. There was no need for them to part — they could have been together all that time, and goodness knows how their lives would have turned out. They might have lived here peacefully, aged and died naturally. Or magic might have found them anyway, and their life would have been filled with dangerous adventures. There was no way to tell how things would have turned out if he knew then what he knew now.
There was no way to tell how the past might have shaped, but he knew one thing for a certainty: if he would have gone into this world with Bae, he would never have met her. He was right in the past when he thought bitterly that it was impossible for him to have both of them in his life. He had to choose between his son and the love of his life. His life turned out so that he lost his son, but he still had a chance to save his love — to build a life with her, to make her truly happy.
The only thing he had to do was to step into the portal leading into the unknown and dangerous realm, and give his all to the task of finding her. A repetition of the same scene, in a way and now, being so much older, and wiser, and sadder he didn't hesitate at all.
He pictured her face, her lovely and stubborn face. Her magical eyes; they always gave light to his life, even when she was angry and bitter with him. He imagined her voice — sweet and gentle when she spoke of love, shrill and tense when she reproached him; he didn't care, he loved the sound of it and knew he cannot live without it. He couldn't live without her — there was simply no point. She was selfless and spoilt, she was kind and judgmental, she loved him and she drew him mad. She was his little princess, his beauty, she was his child and his passion, she was his madness and his sanity, his damnation and salvation. She was the meaning of his existence — all his power, all his being was for her. He would find her, he would be reunited with her whatever the price — whatever the consequences. And even if she spurned him, so be it: he had no choice but to follow her. His impossible dream, the only quest he, the most unlikely of heroes, would ever follow.
He remembered suddenly how, a long time ago in his castle, she fell into his embrace from the ladder, and how scared and disturbed he was to find her suddenly in his arms, and how relaxed she seemed, and how cute was her foxy smile — she knew her power over him, knew it even then, and enjoyed it. He had to find her and explain to her finally that, whatever power he possessed, her power over him would always be stronger — he wasn't sure she understood that. But, remembering her secretly triumphant face as she fell into his arms the last time, falling under the sleeping curse and knowing he would catch her, he thought that perhaps she did. She knew her power over him, and knew that he would always serve her — her obedient, tender beast.
"Do whatever it takes to bring me back", she said.
Well, he would do whatever it took. He would traverse realms known and unknown, he would face enemies old and new, he would make deals, he would sacrifices others, he would risk her displeasure. She probably would not approve of a lot of things he would have to do, but eventually she'd understand. He would do anything for her, for that was how true love worked. He would believe in them even when she doesn't. He knew how badly things turn out when one of them loses hope — when one of them seizes to believe. He would not commit this mistake, ever again.
Perhaps he was mad.
He knew that if he kissed her right then and there, his kiss would have woken her up — so immense and intense was his love for her at that moment when he watched the water of the fountain in the middle of New York City swirl with magic. But she wasn't there — he still had to find her.
Well, that's exactly what he intended to do, in whatever realm fate would take him. Love is the most powerful magic in the world, the only magic powerful enough to transcend any realm, as he himself said once, and his love would help him save her.
So what if it was not with a kiss — it would still be with his true love that he would wake her up. Love worked in different ways — simple fairy tales were just that, fairy tales. Their life, and their love were more complicated than that. And it was truly wonderful.
The portal opened, finally, and the good ones were back, safe and sound. He paid them no heed, and they didn't even notice him as he stepped into the swirling water, to face the unknown — to find his love.
To do whatever it took to bring her back.
