Chapter 6

Hope On The Docks

Rumplestiltskin was up with the dawn and out of the stables before anyone came for the horses. He limped down the docks, trying to decide what to do. He had hoped to wait in Seatown until the Jolly Roger came back, but without an expected date of return, how long would he be waiting for a ship that might never come?

The docks were slowly coming to life with people going about their business. A group of young boys chasing a ball darted out onto the docks a little ways ahead of Rumplestiltskin. The littlest one could not have been more than four or five, and his shaggy brown hair made Rumplestiltskin stop cold.

"Bae?" he whispered. But no, the boy turned, following the ball with his eyes, letting the cloaked spinner catch a glimpse of his face. It wasn't Baelfire. It wasn't his son.

He trembled, his eyes filling with tears. He couldn't do this. Couldn't continue seeing Bae in every little boy who crossed his path, only to have his hope crushed when it invariably wasn't him.

A small weight crashed into his leg, nearly knocking him off-balance. A child no taller than his thigh clung to him, staring up at him with shining blue eyes, her long red hair sending chills down his spine. Was he doomed to always be haunted by his past? Despite the lack of hideous scars and misplaced eyes, he couldn't help remembering the seer who had predicted that all this would occur, albeit without going into enough detail for him to avoid it.

You must tell me how I can stop that happening.

You can't. There is no escaping it.

"You will find him, Rumplestiltskin," the little girl hugging his leg said.

"What?" He stared down at her and she calmly stared back.

"You will be reunited with your son." She stared at him a moment longer, then darted off.

"Wait. No, no, no, no. Come back!" But she was already gone, disappearing into the crowd that was daily life at the docks. Vanished as surely as the seer in the cage had done four years ago.

He knew better now than to dismiss a seer's words. But this time he didn't want to. The girl's words gave him hope, despite their lack of helpful direction. He was beginning to believe in fate, for if a seer's predictions always came true, then whatever path he took, whatever choices he made, he would still end up finding his son. It was just a matter of time. Time that could be lengthened or shortened by his choices.

Which still left him with the question of what to do now to make that length of time shorter.

There was no telling where they had gone or how long they could go between ports, so if he went chasing along the coast, they might never meet. Milah, he felt certain, would never return to their village after tasting freedom, but Baelfire might. Only after he was a grown man though, and only if he remembered his home or his papa. He couldn't go forward, and he couldn't go back. Eventually the Jolly Roger would find its way back to Seatown, but only if he could manage to avoid being recognized. A single rumor of his whereabouts getting back to Milah would guarantee he'd never see his son while Bae might still remember him.

There was nothing for it, then. He sold the trinkets he had brought and padded his coin purse with cloth so the coins wouldn't rattle. He wished he had a spinning wheel to pass the time, but that would get him recognized faster than his face. Instead, he walked the docks all day, looking and listening for signs of the Jolly Roger, Milah, or Bae. He was getting used to the hood of his cloak obscuring his peripheral vision. It made it easier to pretend he wasn't eavesdropping on conversations. And other than the little seer child that morning, no one had approached him. A limping beggar was easy to ignore.

When he was hungry, he sat and nibbled on one of the two loaves of bread the barmaid had given him the night before. He ate only enough to take the edge off, aware of how scarce food would become. Not everyone would be as generous as the barmaid, especially once he started looking like an unwashed beggar. He had his coins in case of an emergency, but whatever food he was given, he was going to make last as long as possible.

He continued walking, and by the time night fell, his ankle was throbbing. He limped to the nearest tavern, a different one this time, and settled down outside to listen and beg.

It was a pattern he would follow for quite some time.

A/N: I have a feeling everyone is going to enjoy the next three chapters... Hang in there, though. There might be a bit of delay in posting.