Chapter 49
It's past midnight and except for Ruby, who's taken Henry home, none of the FOR supporters have left. The guests seem intent on staying the night in the jail, and Emma wouldn't try to stop them no matter what people say tomorrow. But there aren't enough blankets and chairs to go around–hell, there isn't enough floor space–and as the conversation inside quiets, they can hear the chanting outside: "Burn, monster, burn" and other such taunts. Faces darken, the FOR supporters grumble, and as another hour passes with no let-up from the crowd outside, the inside grumbling devolves into outright protesting.
"We're not leavin'," Dove declares. "As long as that bunch is still out there, Mr. G.'s a sittin' duck in this cell and you're no safer, sheriff."
"Em, I know you don't want to hear this, but I think you ought to deputize some of us and distribute a few guns," Bae suggests.
"There'll be no shoot-ups in my jail," Emma barks. "Nobody's getting guns or badges. No Ox-bow Incident either." Gold gives her a half-smile: some of him has rubbed off on her, apparently. "We're sneaking him out of here. And once we're in the clear, I want the rest of you to go home, and make a big show of it, you get me? Tell 'em Gold's gone so they've got no reason to hang around. Blue, you up for a little danger?"
"Bring him to the convent," Blue agrees. "No one will think to look for him there. We'll sneak him out in my car."
Emma instructs the others: "Dove, you come behind us in Fran's car. Leave your Yukon here: it's too identifiable. Bring Neal and Belle. The rest of you, wait thirty minutes, then go home, and make a lot of noise about it. Leave the door standing open so they can see Gold's gone."
She pauses a moment to think, then grabs Gold's and Blue's arms. "Stand up. Side by side." With so many people crammed into the cell, a great deal of shifting is necessary to finangle this move, and in the intervening moments, Gold figures out Emma's intention and sighs, "Oh crap." But now's not the time for protecting his public image or his masculine pride: now's the time to protect his hide, which is only half his now: he belongs to Belle and he has to start taking care of himself for her sake. So he allows Emma to stand him up against the nun, and when Emma sizes them up and asks Blue to remove her cape, he doesn't complain, and when Emma yanks off his Armani jacket and tosses it onto the cot, he whimpers just a little at the way she's crumpled it.
"Sorry, Blue, you're going to be a little cold going home," Emma says, but Blue accepts the change; in fact, her eyes are alight with adventure. "You'll ride with Dove. Gold," she slides the cape across her prisoner's shoulders, "try to walk like a nun." She checks her Smith & Wesson and to their credit, no one laughs as Gold settles into the cape and lowers his head to hide his face behind his hair. "Cecilia, you're driving. Bernadette, in the back seat with Gold. Let's go."
Bae grabs her for a quick kiss. "Careful, babe."
"If we come out of this unscathed," Gold says as he and Emma duck out the back door, "remind me to show you 3:10 to Yuma. I think you'll find it insightful, sheriff."
"Glenn Ford or Russell Crowe?" Emma smirks at him. "See? I've been paying attention."
"I'm going to miss you, Emma."
"No you won't. Just make sure you settle someplace where I can get a good bagel, 'cause you're gonna see a lot of me and Henry."
"With Bae?"
"Well, we'll see. Now get in the back seat and look nunnish."
Emma's plan succeeds, in part because it's smart, but mostly because by now, the protesters are tired and cold and they figure they've won anyway; what chance does a magicless mage have in the concrete-and-steel jungle he's being exiled to? When the last of Gold's supporters have gone home, so do the protesters. Once safe behind the nuns' fortress of solitude, Emma calls Snow to tell her about the relocation; she tells, rather than asks forgiveness, and she hangs up before Snow can get a reactive word in.
Right after that phone call, Emma asks for a bunk to crash on: Cecilia offers hers, making a bed for herself on the couch in Blue's study. As Emma trudges off, Gold calls after her, "Don't you need to lock me in?"
Emma doesn't look back. "What the hell for?"
Blue provides Belle and Gold blankets and pillows, then leads them to their room for the night: the library. "It's not the most comfortable place to sleep," Blue starts to apologize, but Belle interrupts, "On the contrary, I'm right at home now. Thank you."
Gold just smiles.
"Look, you're the queen, so deciding to jail somebody is your thing, but I'm the sheriff, so I decide where the jail is," Emma is arguing into her phone as Belle and Gold come into the kitchen, where the nuns are cooking oatmeal. "The safest place for my prisoner–and for the public–is wherever they can't find him." She listens, then sighs. "Yes, Mom, I'll be fine. I'm safer this way too. . . . When you're ready, call me and I'll come get you. No, don't bring the royal guard; it'll attract too much attention. Trust me, Mom. It's why you got me elected, right?"
She sounds tired. Her rest last night was short; at four this morning she'd gone outside to spell Bae, who, along with Dove, had kept guard over the convent. Bae's now solidly asleep on a pew in the sanctuary. Dove, meanwhile, continues the vigil. But after she gets off the phone, she gives Belle and Gold a brief smile and pours herself a cup of coffee. "Sorry, no bagels today."
The Golds need to have a few changes of clothes, some cash and other necessities packed in preparation for their explusion two days from now, yet it must be done n a way that won't draw attention to the convent. She's developed a plan for that: Dove and Bae will go to the pink house, unpack the suitcases that are still in the Caddy's trunk, and replace those clothes, which need washing, with clean ones. Both men have powers of attorney for Gold, so they will stop at the bank and make a withdrawal. None of this will seem extraordinary: it's what the public would expect them to do, since Gold isn't free to take care of these chores himself and Belle will want to remain by his side. Bae and Dove will then lock the Caddy in the garage, keeping it safe from vandals, until the morning of the expulsion. Belle reminds them to bring back a change of clothes for herself and Gold for today, and passports and toiletries (she blushes when she whispers to her ex-husband just which toiletries she needs, and Gold does the same with Bae, askng for a certain box in the nightstand).
After breakfast, Gold weeds the garden with Blue as Belle and Bernie straighten the library. It gives them a much-needed, ordinary distraction. They pretend the Golds are merely going away on honeymoon; they chat idly about the very loose itinerary Belle has planned. The nuns request frequent reports and photos; no one from Storybrooke has traveled anywhere, unless Henry's bus trip to Boston and Regina's settlement in Teaneck are counted. Belle promises Instagram updates and lots of emails. She tries to sound excited, but her voice quavers sometimes. "We'll come to see you, wherever you settle," Bernie promises. "And remember, you can come back to vis–"
"No. Not until the day my husband is permitted to come too."
After dark, Snow and David arrive, coming in through the woods to make certain they aren't followed. Snow asks to speak privately to Gold; Blue lends her office for the purpose.
The young queen seats herself not behind the desk, but on the couch, signaling the informality of this conversation. As he sits down in an armchair facing the couch, Gold wonders what she wants to say to him–and whether it will be much different from what she actually says. Perhaps she will apologize for the necessity of her decision. Perhaps she'll attempt to molify him with reminders that he's leaving with his pockets full and he has the whole wide world waiting. Perhaps she'll justify the sentence once again. Perhaps, now that he's magicless, she'll threaten him with the consequences if he tries to violate the sentence–though this option's unlikely; even defanged, Gold is still scary.
But she doesn't do any of those things. She asks him, rather, to let go. "This town is already divided. Business partnerships have dissolved over their dfferences because of you. Neighbors aren't speaking. Families are splitting–some of them families that you helped mend. My own daughter. . . .Don't let this town come apart over you."
"What do you suggest I do?" There's a trace of satisfaction in his tone; she's admitting he still has some influence, if not power, and Gold always feels a little more at ease when he has some control.
"Accept the sentence gracefully. Start a new life. Let your supporters know you're at peace wih the circumstances. And gradually, they will come to accept it too, and the town will mend."
"Out of sight, out of mind. I'll be well out of the way during the next year."
"After that?"
"No, Your Majesty, I won't try to incite a rebellion or kidnap our grandson or threaten a coup," he growls. "There's something you don't know about me: I'm a family man. As long as I have Belle and Bae and an occasional afternoon with my grandson and daughter-in-law, I'm a happy camper. No threat to Storybrooke at all. I won't even pull my money out, because I care about what an economic collapse would do to my friends. So you have nothing to worry about. " He pulls his lips back. "Nothing to fear from me."
"Rumplestiltskin, I'm sorry it had to–"
"No you're not. But you do what you think you have to, to keep your little kingdom together, and I won't pester you if you extend me the same courtesy and don't interfere in my relationships with my friends and family. But, Your Majesty," he leans his elbows on his knees to watch her closely, "one piece of advice from a very old man: you vanquish one foe, but there will always be others. Build strong alliances and even stronger defenses." He rises, leaning on his cane. "But no, you have nothing to be concerned about as far as I'm concerned. Good luck, Snow. Between you and me, I'd rather be me than you."
He doesn't wait to be dismissed; Rumplestiltskin never was one to stand on protocol. Back stiff, he takes his leave, wandering outside to putter in the toolshed until he hears Charming's F150 crunch over the gravel, pulling away.
A pair of heavy boots approach from the convent. Bae, normally graceful and lightfooted, trudges into the shed. He's a mess, running on his last gallon of gas. "Red Bulls," he says.
Gold cocks his head. "What?"
"Red Bulls. That's the soccer team in New York. Actually, they're based in New Jersey and there's supposed to be a second New York team starting up next year, but for now: Red Bulls. When you come back from your honeymoon, you and me and Henry will catch a few matches, huh? I mean, if you can learn baseball, I guess I can learn soccer."
Gold nods. "Red Bulls. Sounds like something you'd drink."
Bae shrugs. "Or there's the Revolution in Boston."
"Yeah. We'll catch a few matches."
It's Bae's way, Gold tells Belle later, of indicating he'll stick by his father, even if he can't be in the same town. Having seen a bit of this amazing world's travel technology, Gold doesn't worry. He has faith in airplanes.
Belle brings in atlases and road maps from the public library. On the penultimate day of Gold's residence in Storybrooke, they, Bae and Emma study the maps and the Internet to compose a list of towns the Golds might like to live in. Gold borrows a mathematical compass from the convent's classroom and draws a circle around the location of Storybrooke. "Not here," he says, drawing an X inside the circle. Then he draws a second circle around the first. "Here."
They make a list of the towns outside the first circle but inside the second. The options are sorely limited, however, because Scotsman's Bay, just north of Storybrooke, takes a big chunk out of the selected territory. Five towns are left. Belle googles each, with Bae making notes. Gold's reaction to the first town's description makes it apparent that, despite his protests to the contrary, he does have certain requirements, including good roads (for his busline), good fishing and nearby woods where he can gather plants. It's not much to ask for, really, from a man who's lived four hundred years.
So Bae fashions a matrix as Belle's alphabetizing the town names–until Emma interrupts them. Emma the skeptic has found a marker of Fate. She stabs her finger at a faint spot on the map, across the twelve-mile wide Scotsman's Bay and northeast of Storybrooke about twenty miles as the crow flies, but thirty-five by road. The spot Emma's selected is on the eastern edge of Plockton Wood and within a fifty-mile radius are four lakes and a river. There is an elementary school in town and buses to take kids to the nearby county seat for middle and high school.
The town, population 2100, is called Bell's Corners.
"That's the one," Gold says. "Mr. Dove?"
Josiah nods. "The pink house will be waiting for you there when you return from your trip."
"Just a minute," Belle interjects, her face scrunching. "We haven't talked about the house yet. . . .Honey, just how attached to that house are you?"
Bae and Emma exchange a quick, bemused glance: it's still jarring to hear the Dark One being called honey.
Gold admits he has no particular feeling for the abode, apart from the many hours he and Belle spent there (maybe not so sentimental a place after all, he speculates; she was another man's wife most of those years, and he was the town bully.)
"Well, if you don't mind my saying so, I've never liked it," Belle blurts. " it's a bitch to clean, keeping the steps cleared of snow is a monumental task. It's like cleaning that damn castle. And going up and down those stairs to the bedrooms with a laundry basket on one hip and a baby on the other will make me old before my time." She doesn't mention the torture the stairs enact some days on his ankle. "What do we need all those bedrooms for anyway? I'd rather have three bedrooms, two baths, an open floor plan on the ground floor, a rumpus room, a proper library, and a proper, heated basement workroom for you. I hate the pink and most of all, I hate that this house was created by a curse." Then she gets to the clincher: "I've been worried about the hazard all the steps present to our babies."
"Say no more," Gold makes a snap decision. "How stupid of me not to realize. Mr. Dove?"
Dove grins. "Build or buy, sir?"
"We build, of course. Outward, not up, as few steps as possible."
"No problem, sir. We have a whole year."
"I know an architect in New York," Bae says. "She'd love a chance to build where space isn't the main challenge."
"Let's Skype her soon as we have some sketches." Gold congratulates himself for thinking of it.
"Skype, is it? My dad the geek. You go, Dad," Bae slaps him on the back.
As Emma searches the Internet for floor plans, Bae sketches and offers advice about electronic conveniences and Belle describes her dream house. It's the first she's smiled freely in two days. Gold and Dove begin to plan the landscaping. "A playground," Dove suggests. "Canopied. Eco-friendly equipment. A sandbox."
Gold is grateful: in his own way, Dove is letting him know he's comfortable with the idea of Bindy having a baby with someone else. Gold wonders if Dove has any lingering regrets about Adelena, but one thing he doesn't wonder about is how Dove will treat any children Belle and Gold may have: the big man will be like an uncle to them. Archie's helped Dove to move on, but even more so, Fran and her son and her father have given him a place to move on to. It had seemed an odd match at first: Dove's a Chicago dogs and Milwaukee beer kind of guy, and on the surface Francoise is a just-so kind of gal who thinks nothing of spending fifteen minutes just arranging a sprig of parsley on a plate. But that's not all they are; they are faceted people ("layered," Belle would say) capable of growth and willing to expand their repetoires for the sake of romance. The Baguettes take care of Dove; they fulfill his need to be needed. And that boy of Fran's just loves to tinker with cars.
Gold makes a decision: he will ask Bae to add plenty of pinball machines or whatever the gadgetry teens play with these days to the rumpus room, so that Fran's son will a place to hang out with Henry when he and his mom come to visit the new Gold house–when he and his mom and his stepdad come to visit the new Gold house.
There's a lot to think about, Gold muses, when you're building for a family as big as his.