Chapter 37
A cup of coffee in his hand, Gold settles into his Barcalounger. Henry, sprawled on the floor, doesn't acknowledge him or even glance away from the television.
"Hey, Henry."
"Hey." But Henry still doesn't look around.
Gold decides to confront the matter head-on. "Mad at me?"
"You could help her."
Gold tastes his coffee, buying time to choose his words. "You give me credit for power I don't have."
Now Henry glares at him. "Yes, you could. I can see it in your face."
"There are. . . different kinds of ability, Henry. A man might be . . . physically capable of doing something, but not emotionally capable."
Henry returns his gaze to the television. "A man can change."
Gold lets the comment go unanswered; instead, he looks at the television. His heart lifts a little when he learns that Henry's watching a western. An Apache warrior is confronting a tall, skinny guy. Gold settles in: he's in the mood for an uncomplicated western right now, and he's hoping during the course of the program, Henry will be reminded of this bond between them and thaw a little.
The Apache attacks the tall, skinny guy—and the tall, skinny guy responds with a series of kicks, sidesteps, body throws, and open-handed punches.
"Cool," Henry murmurs, and Gold grabs this opportunity to open a new topic.
"What is this?"
Henry forgets he's angry; he grins over his shoulder. "Never saw John Wayne fight like that, huh? This is an old TV show called Kung Fu. That guy there"—he points at the tall fighter, who's now defeated the Apache and has chosen to spare his opponent's life—"is a priest, but he was trained in martial arts."
"Apparently, effectively."
"Yeah. He kicks a—uh, butt. But he doesn't want to, see, because he's a priest, but sometimes he has to. His name's Kwai Chang Caine."
"You've seen this show before?"
"It's one of the box sets we bought the other day. Cool, huh?"
"Unusual." Gold would have preferred something traditional and simple, after a full day in the lab, but he needs to win Henry back, so he will remain here a while and watch for opportunities to connect.
He doesn't consider the possibility that he doesn't really need to win Henry back. Whether Emma, Henry and the Charmings agree or not, Gold needs Henry and, he believes, vice versa. Each is all the link the other has right now to Bae.
As the story unfolds, the half-Chinese priest is seeking to learn more about his long-deceased American father.
"A name, a face in my mind, a place. It is all I know of my father."
Guilt stabs at Gold; he glances at Henry. A name, a face in a photo, and an address are all the boy knows of Bae.
Caine reaches out to his father's father, but the older man's racial prejudice stands between. "I should have died before I saw you. Let me be dead before I see you again."
A chill rushes up Gold's spine at the horrible words. Bae—is that how Bae feels about Rumplestiltskin?
But a surrogate family emerges for Caine: a mute teenager and an elderly evangelist who offer Caine refuge in their halfway house. In return, Caine counsels the evangelist when the man is blinded:
"Are you alive?"
"Blinded."
"Yes."
"Helpless."
"Not helpless. I can teach you. You need not be helpless."
"Useless."
"Not useless either. Your congregation needs you."
Gold's coffee cup rattles on its saucer. He sets it on the coffee table, but his hand continues to tremble. . .with magic, yes, but with emotion. A blind evangelist can still fulfill his destiny, but a sorcerer stripped of magic surely is of use to no one, not even himself, and especially not his family. Helpless. And yet the choice remains, the choice Gold hasn't been able to make: the Dark One or Belle and Bae—and now Henry.
With Caine's guidance, the evangelist finds his inner vision and achieves his dream of building a church. Ah, Gold mentally snorts, but that's television. All problems solved in an hour.
On the screen, the evangelist confronts Caine's grandfather: "All these years you've blamed someone else—your son, your grandson—because you didn't have courage enough to look at yourself."
Gold looks down at his hands, glowing with magic.
On the screen, the elder Caine addresses his grandson: "I have nothing to give you."
"Through you," Kwai Chang replies, "I have a father, a grandfather, a great-grandfather, stretching back to the roots of time."
"You have a brother. Find him."
The episode concludes with Kwai Chang setting out to find his brother. Henry casts a quick glance over his shoulder. "When will we find my father?"
Gold clears his throat. "I'll find a way. We—Belle and Blue and I—will find a way." Hastily he pushes himself up from the recliner and thumps off to the bathroom to wash his face, to wash away thoughts that threaten his resolve. You didn't have courage enough to look at yourself.
Barefoot in her white satin gown, Belle appears before him, silent as a ghost. She squints into the darkness, following his gaze to flickers of pale light moving slowly, rhythmically in the garden. Gold's barely conscious of her and barely breathing, lost as he is in the scene his imagination has created for him, in the second life his magic has created. She seats herself beside him on the porch swing and watches the figures in his mind play out in the dark garden, flickers of light moving in silence like the images on a television screen with the volume turned down: Emma and Belle in sundresses, seated at a wrought iron table, sipping iced tea and chatting; Gold, in jeans and a denim shirt, seated at a matching table, drinking beer and playing dominoes with Josiah; Baelfire, pushing Henry in a swing.
Gold watches the scene unblinking until the warm, breathing Belle beside him takes his hand, summoning him back to life. He blinks then, breaking the enchantment, and his imaginary family vanishes.
"It's not too much to ask for, is it?" he asks her.
"It's just across the boundary," she assures him.
He gets it then. "I'm the boundary. It's me that's keeping us away from this."
She holds his hand as he stares into his empty garden.
Blue reduces her time in the lab so she can increase her time in the jail. Regina's declined, lapsing in and out of lucidity. "Two days of dust left," Blue reminds Gold—unnecessarily.
It's past midnight. Everyone else has gone to bed, but Belle comes downstairs to seek her bed partner. She finds him in the living room, in the dark except for the light of the television. He's focused on the screen, but he shifts in his recliner to make a space for her, and she cuddles up beside him. "It's almost over," he informs her. "A few more minutes and we'll go to bed."
She rests her head on his chest and he runs his hand along her back, seemingly to soothe her, but probably to soothe himself. "What're you watching?"
"A TV series Henry picked out at the video store." He points to the screen, where a young woman is giving birth. "She was raped. Her brother died trying avenge her honor. Kwai Chang Caine's been looking out for her."
The scene moves to a flashback. 'The kid, that's Kwai Chang, and the guy instructing him is Master Po."
"Fear is the enemy; trust is the armor," Po advises. "He who conquers himself is the greatest warrior. Do what must be done with a docile heart."
Returning to the main story, the girl's father tries to persuade Caine to kill her attackers. "If I don't have a right to revenge, who does?"
Caine answers and walks away. "No one."
"Wow, that's different," Belle says.
He smooths her hair down. "Belle, do you—you have as much a claim against Regina as anybody. What do you think her sentence should be?"
She raises her head from his chest to study him. "You were going to ask me if I want revenge."
"Yes."
She frowns. "Yes, I do. But I'm doing my best not to." She thinks about it some more. "But what I want for the three of us is for Snow to find a way to balance justice with hope."
"What they could do to her, they could do to me." His hands drop to his sides. "That would be justice. As long as I have magic, though, they won't come for me."
"That's not the only difference between you and Regina. There are other reasons they won't come for you."
"You," he guesses.
"No, you. You've changed."
He shakes his head. "Not enough." Before she can debate the matter, he uses the remote to click the television off. "It's late. We'd better go to bed."
In the morning when Belle awakes Gold is sitting up in bed, waiting for her. He's already partially dressed, in shirt and slacks; his tie and jacket rest on a hanger hooked to the top of the closet door. A flicker of disappointment crosses her face: since he'll be wearing a suit, that means he's going into town for something; and since he's already halfway dressed, that means there's no time for morning lovemaking. But she shakes off her disappointment and gives him a small smile. "Morning."
He reaches over to the nightstand and picks up a brown envelope that he sets in his lap. His hand rests on it, drawing her attention to it. "Belle, I've been withholding information, and I'm sorry." Coward that he is, he isn't ready yet to tell her everything, but he will start small to test his strength. He still has one more day to work up his courage.
"What is it, Rumple?" She's still dull with sleep.
"Three weeks ago, a two-bedroom house on Begbie Street came available."
"For Emma," Belle blinks.
"I'll tell her today." He hangs his head. "I don't know why I didn't tell her sooner."
Belle sets her hand on his. "Yes, you do. And I'm glad for it."
"Glad I didn't tell her?"
"Glad you felt the need to keep them close a little while longer." She leans over to kiss his cheek. "And glad you found it in you today to let them go."
Gold drops in at the jail. He ignores Regina's cursing and heads straight for Emma's office. In his hand is a brown envelope—in fact, it's the same envelope in which she delivered Neal's photograph. "For you, Emma." He slides the envelope across the desk.
She lifts the tab. "Well, I know it's not ice cream." She empties the contents onto her desk: a lease form, an index card upon which an address is written and a set of keys.
"I've been holding out on you, I'm afraid." He reddens. "This property came open three weeks ago. Two bedrooms, a study, fully furnished, garage, a big backyard, two blocks from the middle school. You'll have to provide your own lawn mower, though."
"Sounds wonderful. Can I afford it on a public servant's salary?" She grins at him. "I have a feeling I can."
"You have connections with the landlord." He smiles back.
"Fan-fudgin'-tastic!" Emma grabs her phone. "Can I move in tonight?"
"If you like." He turns away.
"Gold," she calls after him. "Thanks for holding out on me. I—it was nice, you know? Getting to know you and Belle."
He nods. "It was a pleasure, Emma. You and Henry. . . will be missed."
"Gold?" she calls out again and he pauses. "Bagels or donuts tomorrow?"
He grins at her.
The last of Emma's bags is tossed into the bed of David's F150; on the backseat of the Bug, carefully packed in a box, are Henry's X-Box and collection of games, bought by Belle as a parting gift. In Henry's wallet is a receipt for the tux that Mr. Browning is tailoring for Henry; besides Gold, of course, only Emma knows about this tux, and Henry will keep the secret because he adores Belle and doesn't want to spoil the proposal Gold has planned.
His silence is not an indication of loyalty to Gold. Although he loves his grandfather, Henry's angry now, very angry, and he hasn't kept his anger a secret. He's wielded it hard and often with Gold, and when Emma asked the reason for his attitude, Henry told her outright: he believes Gold could save Regina but won't because of the rivalry that's always existed between them. Gold doesn't disavow him of that notion. It's preferable to revealing the truth: to save Regina, Gold would have to sacrifice magic, and he hates that worse than he hates Regina.
The night Henry broke this news, Emma drew Gold into his study to ask, in private, whether Henry's right. Gold answered, truthfully, he's had a half-baked plan that might or might not work. Emma spread her hands: "So why are you standing here? Why aren't you doing whatever you need to do to kick your plan in its mushy ass?" The price, he told her, would be very high and the risk, great. Emma pursed her lips. "Yeah. I know all about prices and risks. I've got my own to juggle." And she glanced at the photo of Bae sitting on Gold's desk before walking out. She said no more about the half-baked plan.
Gold and Belle follow Emma and Henry to the Bug. "See ya there," David calls, backing the Ford out of Gold's driveway.
Emma gives Belle a firm hug, then offers Gold a handshake. "Thanks, you guys. You went above and beyond."
"Our pleasure," Belle says. "It was fun having you here. The house will seem empty without you."
"We'll drop by now and then, and I expect you to come see us—not just on rent day, either." Emma throws Gold a mischievous grin, then spontaneously grabs the old man in a bear hug. "You take care, huh?"
"If there's anything you need, you know where to find us." Gold surprises everyone by kissing her forehead.
Henry has an affectionate hug for Belle, but when it's Gold's turn to say farewell to him, he merely offers a handshake. Gold's face crumbles for just a second before he pulls his dignity together and accepts the handshake.
"Thanks for letting us stay with you," Henry says stiffly.
"You're welcome, Henry," Gold replies. "I love you."
Emma and Belle, who had been chatting about brands of toasters, break off their conversation. They look at Gold—Emma in surprise, Belle in pride—and then they look at Henry, whose anger breaks at his grandfather's simple confession. The boy grabs Gold in a hug, and Gold, stroking his hair, says lowly, "I'm trying, Henry. I really am trying."
"Bye, Grandpa." The boy releases Gold and climbs into the Bug. "See ya later."
"Bye, Henry."
Gold's waiting at the foot of the stairs when Belle patters down in the morning. He offers her a cup of coffee. "I didn't sleep much either," she says.
Today is the last day.
His voice is nasal and his eyes heavy from lack of sleep. "Belle, I need to talk to you."
The urgency in his voice wakes her up. "Of course." She refastens the belt of her bathrobe and sits down at her usual place at the kitchen table. Through the open windows they hear vehicles rumbling down Gold Boulevard and birds chirping. He sits across from her and takes her hand. His mouth twists in a struggle between his mind and his heart, but there's only today left. He can delay no longer.
Trust is the armor.
"I need your help. A decision I—we—need to make."
She beams at him, her eyes lit with pride, and that makes it so much easier for him to conquer himself. He expects she will chastise him when he confesses what he's known for several weeks now, but when the pride in her eyes doesn't dissipate, the words pour out of him. He finds the heaviness in his chest lifts and he can breathe freely, and her hand in his anchors him.
Even before she provides the counsel he's asked for, he knows what he—what they—will do, and when she gives voice to their decision, he embraces her. "Yes," he replies. "Let's go call Blue."
"And Snow."