A/N: Sorry if anyone ends up getting this chapter alert twice. All I changed was "name day" to "birthday". Finally got my hands on the DVD to rewatch Desperate Souls. They use "birthday", so it was going to bug me if I didn't fix it. Also, expect once-a-week updates.

Chapter 7

Birthday Surprise

Baelfire's seventh birthday earned him a wooden sword from Killian and coin from Mama to buy a treat or two while in port. From the two of them, he earned permission to go about on his own, though he was sure they or someone from the crew would be watching him. That was fine, though. He had his wooden sword and more freedom than he could remember having.

He could barely remember a time before he and Mama became pirates. He knew he had a papa who had taught Mama to make clothes, and that was why he couldn't call Killian Papa like they wanted him to. When he met Killian, he had still remembered his real Papa, and now he just couldn't see why he should call the captain by a name that didn't belong to him.

They had a great life, sailing around to wherever they felt like. Sometimes he and Mama would come ashore for a few days and explore whatever town they were in while Killian and his ship did piraty things. Killian promised that Baelfire would get to come with them when he was older, but for now he had to stay with Mama. And practice with his wooden sword.

As soon as the Jolly Roger was docked, Baelfire raced down the plank and into Seatown. He hardly knew where to start exploring. He peeked through shop windows and saw a baker kneading dough, a carpenter building a table, and a glassblower shaping some kind of elegant decoration. He was entranced by a woman working a spinning wheel, turning wool into fine thread. Something about the wheel was hypnotic. He could almost hear the soft creaking of the wood.

"Bae," a voice behind him said.

Baelfire turned. A man with a staff and a tattered cloak stood there, watching him. The hood of his cloak hid part of his face, but Baelfire could see a gray and brown beard and hopeful dark eyes.

"Are you a wizard?"

The old man blinked and took a half step back, his eyes growing impossibly sad.

"No."

Baelfire looked at him curiously. "Then how do you know my name?"

The man's mouth tightened, and he suddenly seemed to find it difficult to look at Baelfire. His eyes cast around as if seeking an answer. Then he stepped forward, limping into the shade of the shopfront, using the staff for support, and lowered his hood.

His shoulder length hair was messy, but brown with only a hint of gray at the sides. He bent down to look Baelfire in the eye, leaning on the staff.

"I know your name," he said, his voice low and soft with a hint of playfulness, "because I have been waiting for you."

Baelfire backed away a step.

The man straightened, twisting his grip on the staff. "What do you know of your father?"

Baelfire shrugged. "That he could make clothes." He looked back into the shop and was momentarily entranced again. "And he probably owned a spinning wheel." The stranger was watching closely. "People say he killed himself three years ago. Something about not being able to live after letting Mama and me go." The stranger dropped his gaze and twisted the staff again. "Mama doesn't believe them."

The man's head snapped back up. "Why not?"

"She says Papa was a coward. Hurt himself in the war so he wouldn't have to fight, and refused to fight to get Mama back. He never even came looking for me. He loved his own life too much and us too little to die like that."

"Oh, Bae..." The stranger's expression was confusing. It looked almost like he was going to cry.

"Why do you keep calling me that? Only my father called me by that name. Were you a friend of his?"

The man shook his head. "No. Your papa never did have many friends." A hand came up, fingers splayed in front of his chest, trembling. "I am your papa, Bae."

Baelfire studied him.

"I hobbled myself to come home to you. So you wouldn't have to grow up without a father. But then your mama took you away from me." He really was going to cry. "Here," he said, showing Baelfire the bottom half of the staff. "These markings. That's you growing up. This last one here, that was you at four, the day before you went away." The man looked at him, but Baelfire said nothing. "I came here to find you, Bae. How could a cripple like me chase after the Jolly Roger? I've been waiting for three years. What more proof do you need, son?"

If this was his father, Baelfire didn't know him. Sure, the beard would not have been there before, but he doubted asking the man to shave it would help. He doubted any physical proof would help. He could ask for names: his father's, his mother's, maybe even Killian's, but that wouldn't prove much either.

"Please, Bae." The man's voice was desperate, his brown eyes bordering on fearful. Then he seemed to remember something and started digging for something hidden in his tunic. "Wait," he said. "Here." He pulled an old piece of parchment out and unfolded it. "Your mother drew this not long before she left me and took you with her."

It was a charcoal drawing, worn at the seams where he had folded it. The lines were smudged and fading in spots, but it did look like the other drawings Mama had made of Baelfire. He was running out of reasons not to believe that this was his father.

"What day is today?" he asked.

The man smiled. "Your birthday, of course."

So it was true. But that meant everything Mama had taught him was a lie. Baelfire backed away, unable to stop the tears that sprang to his eyes. His father's smile faded, replaced by fear.

"No, no, no, Bae, please. Don't run. Here, come sit with me. I'll answer any questions you might have." He started to lower himself to the ground, despite the pain it caused him. "Baelfire, please." He reached a hand towards him.

"Are you going to steal me away from Mama?" Baelfire asked.

"No, of course not, Bae. I want you with me more than anything, but I could never do what she did to me." The hand beckoned. "Come."

Baelfire inched forward, watching his father's face. The fear relaxed into concern, then relief. When Baelfire knelt down next to him, his papa's arms came around him in a hug. He could feel him trembling.

"Oh, Bae," his papa whispered. "My beautiful boy." He was crying. Baelfire could hear it in his voice, and it made him cry too as he hugged his papa back.