A/N: This chapter was quite a bit of fun to write. This is where reality begins to blur for our young Henry, and for Neal as well I'd wager. You'll see what I mean. As usual nothing is mine, except the plot.
Chapter Four: Cross My Heart and Hope to Fly
The shop wasn't open yet. On Sundays Gold opened late, after Church time, not that the man was particularly religious. It was only good business. Belief in magic didn't always correspond in belief in all things. It made him paranoid. Gold could safely say this. It was better to let people believe what they would, easier than changing their minds after all. Changing one's mind was a task that he'd never been particularly partial to. It was messy. Planting ideas was one thing, changing a mind that was set in its ways was something entirely different. Even when it came to his boy.
He watched the man helping polish some merchandise. His son had grown up fine. It was a pride that a father could never escape, despite time, despite mistakes on both of their parts. But there was something on the man's mind, Gold could see it as clearly as he could see the polishing cloth going back and forth almost brutally.
"Bae, are you alright?" Gold walked over, placing a hand on the small side table in view of Neal. He realized almost too late that he had ignored his son's wishes, using the name that had been habit since the boy was young.
He saw the jar on the table wobble, the depictions of fae folk at play almost dancing with the shakiness of the furniture it sat atop. Neal had snapped the cloth back, looking up with the swiftness of one who had been caught in a daydream. It was this that had caused the unsteadiness. Gold dropped his cane holding his hands down below to catch the falling jar.
Neal watched all of this with horror, a stark expression that made his face look almost childlike. As the jar fell into his hands, Gold saw him hurry to hold the table steady. "I'm sorry, I guess I was just surprised." he cleared his throat, turning his attention now fully to the jar. "What is it? I've never seen it here before."
"Of course not." Gold placed it back upon the table, holding it steady and feeling it vibrate under his fingers, the mad shaking turning to a gentle hum under his silent willing. "It's a... recent acquisition."
Neal raised his eyebrows as his mouth turned downward. "Pop… what exactly…?"
Gold shook his head. "It's not dangerous...well… not entirely. I thought it would provide a bit of fun for the boy. Under my supervision of course."
"What. Is. It?"
Gold grabbed the lid, pulling it off to reveal a pile of glittery substance. Neal knew what it was. It took all of his strength not to recoil.
"Fairy dust."
Neal had retreated upstairs shutting the door behind him, not slamming it per say, but closing it forcefully and leaning against it. It had been a bad idea, coming here, a really bad idea. He knew his father had kept the shop, but the fact that he still collected. It was something he thought that he'd put behind him. He probably had too much faith in Aiden Gold, even still. He'd been stupid enough to think that maybe, he was done, that he was focused more on the business. Conning fools out of their pay with a few cheap tricks, not collecting the real deal. Huck had been right, and that was the scariest part of all of this.
"You know that old man probably has some. You said it yourself. He's a magic collector. Ain't that why you left?"
"He doesn't. He's done I'm sure of it. I was a kid. It probably wasn't even real."
"You hate magic right? Took your old man from you. That's what you said. That's what got you in Cassidy...or…. should I say Gold? Prove yourself. Take it. Then they'll be safe."
As he sat outside the cafe, Neal saw two boys, one talking to the other in hurried tones. The other looked hesitant, but then, those familiar words spoken by the other.
"Cross my heart, hope to die…"
Huck was watching as well, then turned back to Neal. "Stick a needle in my eye."
He would wait until closing time, wait for his father to fall asleep. Then he'd act and be gone before the man woke up in the morning. He'd be out of Storybrooke before sunrise.
Another smack, a hard kick. Henry could taste the leather of Jacky's sneakers. "No wonder your name's Swan. You're such a girl, you can't even fight back!" This was a daily occurrence. Henry would sit on top of the playground, usually the roof of the castle, with a book Mary Margaret had given him, looking up each second, until he saw Jacky, one of the third graders. Then he would barely be able to jump off with his backpack on him before it was open season. "Reading fairy tales princess! Toughen up!" Another hard smack as he fell onto the pavement. Always the concrete, never grass. Sometimes mulch if he was lucky where Henry would escape with a few slivers and scrapes, but Jacky Kennesey was never that generous more than once.
"I didn't do anything to you!" Henry said. "Leave me alone!"
"I'm gonna get Miss Blanchard!" Nicholas could be heard. Henry looked up as his classmate ran only to be stopped by Freddy grabbing him by the ear and twisting. "Augh!"
"Don't even think about it twerp."
"What are you doing?" Henry heard another voice, oddly familiar, but he couldn't look up since Jacky pinned him down.
"Teaching these babies to toughen up." Freddy said. No sooner had he spoken, that Henry heard an oomf and whimpers.
Then the footsteps moved toward him. Henry could see a pair of white gym shoes, caked with red as the owner crouched, grabbing Jacky's hands twisting them behind his back as he kicked and kept kicking, allowing Henry finally to stand and limp over to Nicholas. He was also standing, stock still and watching the action with an open mouth.
Henry's eyes drifted over to where Freddy lie holding his head as red dripped out of his mouth. Whoever it was must have kicked pretty hard. Henry knelt as Nicholas looked on with wide eyes shaking his head frantically. "Do you need help?"
"Miss Blanchard!" Nicholas seemed to snap out of his daze as Henry spoke already running toward the school building in search of their teacher.
"Not from you." Freddy held his mouth. Henry could see his hand overflowing. He struggled to his feet heading in the opposite direction.
Henry sighed. "Sorry…" He said to no one.
"Why're you apologizing?" Henry heard the voice again, trying to remember where he recognized it from. "They were pummeling you." He turned to see the boy from the principal's office.
"That doesn't mean they shoulda been hurt. They were right." Henry's voice was soft. "I am a baby."
The boy looked confused. His eyebrows disappeared into his hair, fair and fine as gold. "That's not true. They're jerks. You're Henry right?"
"Uh-huh." Henry nodded. "And you're Peter!" He grinned.
"Yeah." Peter held out a hand and this time Henry took it.
"This means we're friends right?" Henry said. "Now I gotta help you."
"I'll hold you that." Peter smiled. "Friend."
Mary Margaret had walked him home from school. Now she and Mommy were in the bathroom with him, helping him clean off from the fight with Jacky as Henry narrated his encounter with Peter.
"He twisted his arm all the way back. He probably broke it!" Henry said. "But he helped us get Jacky and Freddy to stop. And he said we could be friends. Ow! Mommy!"
"Sorry Kiddo." His mom removed the cloth from where she'd been wiping one of his scrapes. Her eyes were puffy. That's how adults looked when they cried. "I told you it would sting."
"So you and Peter are friends? That's great!" Mary Margaret grinned.
"Yeah, except I don't think Nick likes him very much. But maybe when he isn't twisting Jacky's arm he will."
"Maybe…" Mommy exchanged a look with Mary Margaret who shrugged. "Alright I think that's the last of it Kid. You're all set."
"Thanks Mommy!" Henry ran out of the bathroom only briefly hearing as his mom and Mary Margaret whispered to each other.
It was late at night, and Henry was still looking at the star. He heard his mommy crying...again. He knew she'd been crying earlier because of her eyes when she was "patching him up". She hadn't stopped, not even when she and Henry were eating dinner and she thought he couldn't see. "Don't cry Mommy. Daddy's gonna be home soon right?" That had started her crying even more. She was shaking her head, the way people did when they were saying no, but she didn't say anything. This is why Henry had a funny feeling in his stomach. He couldn't finish his mac and cheese and had run upstairs to find the star.
He remembered what Wendy had said in the movie when she wanted to go to Neverland. Maybe he could find his dad there and bring him home so Mommy could stop crying. They shared the star right? Maybe Daddy had gotten bored fighting fires and went there. "I believe." He shut his eyes tight. "I believe."
A gust of wind threw him backwards as the room was sucked into darkness. A shadowy figure with glowing eyes appeared on the window ledge holding out a hand. Henry scrambled forward. "Will you take me to Neverland?"
A single nod.
"Okay. I trust you." Henry grabbed the shadow figure's hand, and suddenly he was up in the air, flying above Storybrooke. He didn't know what would happen, but he felt excited. He was flying! He was flying to Neverland!
A/N: And so, things begin. After this, there will probably be one more chapter with young Henry and an interlude of sorts to bridge the gap before we meet teenage Henry. Coming up: Henry sees Neverland, Emma, Mary Margaret and David take notice of Henry's change in behavior, as (yes, I know I promised it in this chapter) Neal meets up with an old friend after he delivers the goods to Huck.