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CHAPTER 5

Spring - Seven years later in a small town in the Enchanted Forest

In the end it was seven years Lucy served for her sister's crime. Finally her time serving the Duke's chief magistrate was done. Because she could read and write, the court's highest officer had purchased her time and rescued her from the Duke's dungeons. She had kept house for him as well as assisted him in his royal duties. But now, at last she was able to return to the home she shared with Milah and Rumplestiltskin. She knew she would never have a real home of her own because the only man she'd ever loved was her sister's husband. And if she was fated to eternal unrequited love at least she could be close to the object of her love.

Soon she was standing on his doorstep. Although she was older now, nearly twenty- four, she still felt nervous about seeing him. He was, after all, Milah's husband. Milah be hanged! she thought rebelliously. Squaring her narrow shoulders, she knocked twice on the door.

A small boy with a rectangular face and an unruly mop of brown hair opened the door and peered out at her. His small thumb was wedged firmly in his mouth. The boy could be no more than six, seven at the most.

Tilting her head to the side, Lucy stared curiously at the small boy. Then she smiled. "You're his son," she stated simply. "You must be, for you are his very spirit and image." Kneeling, she reached for his shoulders. "I'm your aunt Lucy."

"Bae, haven't I told you not to talk to strangers?" Rumple hobbled quickly towards the stranger who held his child. Although lame and leaning heavily on his crutch, the spinner was surprising strong as he pushed her away from his child. But he froze in mid motion, his body thrust between his child and this woman, his right arm grasping the crutch while the fingers of his left hand bit into her arm. "Lucy?" he croaked in disbelief. "Or is it Gerta?"

"Lucy," she told him as she stood and pulled him into a fierce embrace. She held him as long as she dared, relishing in the feel of his solid warmth. Finally, she pulled back and cleared his throat of the tears that threatened to lodge there. "But who is this?" She smiled down at the tiny thumb sucker.

Rumplestiltskin's smile widened. He squared his shoulders and held himself taller. "That," he told her with great joy as he gently removed the thumb, "that is my son, Baelfire."

"That's a good name," she told him solemnly. "A strong name. I know you and Milah must be proud."

"Milah is," he faltered, looking down at the boy.

"Mumma's dead," the solemn eyed little boy told her.

At these words, her smile weakened, and her hands dropped to her side. "Oh, my poor Rumple," she whispered as tears flowed. "You loved her so." Taking a ragged breath, she pushed back her sorrow and added, "What can I do to help?"

Later that night after the evening meal was finished and the boy put to bed, Lucy took Rumple by the hand and sat down next to him.

"Now," she spoke tenderly, "tell me what happened? Did Milah die in childbirth?"

He looked into her eyes with his thimbleful of courage. "No, Milah's not really dead. She, she - " he whispered, but his jaw began to tremble and grief stopped his words.

She took his face between her hands and lifted until his tear-filled eyes met her own. When his tears spilled over, she gingerly wiped them away. "My sister, Milah?" she asked kindly.

Heaving a shuddering sigh, he said, "She was kidnapped by a pirate. She had taken to carousing in taverns with sailors. Captain Jones took her away." When Lucy's frame stiffened and she clenched her jaw, Rumple feared she blamed him. He added with desperation, "I begged him to leave her for the boy's sake. He offered to duel me for her, and I - I - " He shook his head and lowered it in defeat as the sobs came, wracking his thin frame.

Lucy simply pulled him to her and rocked him gently, letting him cry out his pain. Murmuring soft nonsensical phrases, she smoothed his hair until he mastered his pain.

"I'm sorry, Lucy. It's all my fault. I wasn't strong enough - "

"Shh, Rumple, whatever happened was most assuredly not your fault. I knew my sister well. It's more likely she went with him of her own free will than -"

"Don't!" he told her. His voice vibrated with deep hurt. "Don't say such," he begged. "Even if it should be true, you shouldn't say it. She," he took her hands from his face and held them in his own, close to his heart. "She never loved me, you see," he whispered raggedly. "I suppose I knew it all along, but your da said she agreed to marry me. I knew it was wrong. She was so lovely, so young, and I was too old and a wee ugly thing, and - "

Lucy's face clouded, and she interrupted him. "That's a lie, Rumplestiltskin," she hissed at him, her face going red with anger. "You are not a wee, ugly thing! Milah was beautiful but only on the outside. She was ugly on the inside where it counted. She married you for your ability to make money. That's why she pushed you to join the army. She wanted to travel to grand places, mix with grand people! She was a fool and didn't deserve you!"

Rumplestiltskin stared at her. "Lucy, well I know why Milah agreed to marry me. But you're wrong. It was I who didn't deserve her. I am a coward, who dishonored my country, my family, and myself. If she left of her own accord, it was because I drove her to it." He bowed his head, looking at his lame leg. "Lucy, I purposely lamed myself."

"I don't believe that," Lucy insisted. "Not for one minute."

"It's true. When I served in the army, a seer told me Milah carried my child, and that I would die, leaving my son fatherless. I was so afraid. I couldn't stand the thought of not seeing my boy, so I took a heavy mallet and shattered my own ankle. Once I recovered, I hobbled home as fast as I could. When I saw Milah standing there holding Bae - " A brief, tender smile lit his face; his voice softened when he spoke his son's name. Abruptly, he stood up, walking a few steps towards the fire. He leaned against the stones, trying to master his emotions before he faced Lucy. "I shamed her. She said she'd rather I died in battle than return a crippled coward." He expected her, too, to turn away in disgust, at his confession.

"That stupid cow!" she burst aloud as she stood from the table quivering with fury. "I can't even begin to hate her enough for what she's done to you!"

Rumple stared at his sister-in-law in utter disbelief. "Didn't you hear what I said? I made her the laughing stock of the village. She had a right to leave me if -"

" And what about her vows, the ones she made before God when the two of you wed? For better, for worse? In sickness and in health? What about those, Rumple?" she shot back. "And what excuse did she have for leaving her child? Hmm? Tell me that!"

"I made her life unbearable. You can't defend my actions by condemning her."

"Oh, yes, I can, and I will! Right or wrong, you did what you thought best to protect your unborn son. Tell me, Rumple, did she even consider the boy?"

He had no answer to that, so he dropped his head. Lucy walked to him, and taking his hands in hers, led him back to the table. "Rumple, we could," she stopped and wet her lips. Long she stared at her hands, gathering her courage. What she had to say was hard for her. "Could we, you and I, make a family? Bae needs a mother, and I could - if you'd allow, I could be your - "

He interrupted her. "Lucy," he said gently, squeezing her hands, "we can't. I'm still married Milah."

"But everyone thinks she's dead -"

"And when she comes back? Then what?" He released her hand, cupping her cheek. "No, I'll find you someone, dear Lucy. I promised you seven long years ago that I would find you a husband that you could love. I'll find you a good man, one who will give you a home and children. Maybe not one so grand as I found for Gerta, but a good man nonetheless. I may have failed Milah, but I will not fail you. In fact, there is a young farmer named Peter Cucurbita, who is in need of a wife. I'll speak with him now." Then he stood abruptly and left the cottage.

"Oh, Rumple, it's you I love you," she whispered to the closed door. The tears ran freely down her face. "I always have. I always will."