Storybrooke was a coastal town. It was filled with fishermen and boats and insane fools who swam through the tides in the morning, even in freezing temperatures, and called it "refreshing". The Underworld's version of Storybrooke had water. It appeared to be just as much a coastal town as home was, only without the insane fools in the waves. And after reading about why in the books he'd pilfered, not only did he understand why, but he had no interest in being anywhere near it either.

There wasn't a lot that the mythologies he read had in common, but all of them, every single one, spoke of five rivers that all converged in the Underworld. Four of them sounded less than pleasant. The Acheron was the river of pain. The Lethe was the river of forgetfulness and played a role in several myths and even a few spell ingredients he'd found. The Phlegethon was the river of fire, and he found references to it leading to the very depths of hell. The fourth was the river of wailing, the Cocytus. Though they sounded appealing in a magical way, he knew when to mess with something he didn't understand and when to leave it alone. Until he had more information, he had no interest in going anywhere near any bodies of water that contained those rivers.

But there was a fifth. And that was one that was most interesting to him. The River Styx. In his readings, he found that it was the river that connected the Underworld to the land of the living. Supposedly it circled the underworld seven times and was the river that the ferryman, Charon used to deliver souls to this place. Though he'd also found references to Charon using the River Acheron for this task. Conflicting information wasn't great, but at least now he knew what Milah had been talking about in regard to a boat and the ferryman he hadn't arrived with. That was all he needed to believe Charon was real. At the moment, the Styx seemed to be the most prominent and potentially helpful. If he could find the River Styx and follow it...he might have a long hike ahead of him, but he hoped that it might eventually lead him back to a land he recognized, one where the dead did not dwell. He decided that he would pursue the information about the ferryman and the river's use as a potential way out and back to the land of the living until he had reason to believe it was no longer helpful.

He had a lead. But only one. Some of Milah's hints, like the one about the boat and ferryman, had checked out, but not all of them rest did.

The Gravestones were not as helpful as Milah had believed. Or if they were, he hadn't found anything in his reading to back it up. As far as he knew, Milah wasn't magical and probably wouldn't know magic until it hit her over the head, or ripped her heart from her chest and crushed it. Therefore, he concluded that her belief as to the importance of the gravestones probably came from a long line of rumors that she'd heard. After reading and researching, he'd found that all he could really do with a gravestone was summon someone with a very specific ingredient he didn't possess and didn't care to. He had no need to try to summon someone. As it was, there was no one that he could currently think to summon, and his interest was in finding his own headstone. If it existed, then this certainly wouldn't have helped him.

And as for the ingredient…his interest was piqued when he'd read about it. The Ale of Seonaidh. It sounded like a joke. But while there was no one at the moment that he could think to summon, he readily acknowledged that he needed to start thinking long-term and had to start acquiring items that could be of use to him, even in a trade. Just because his father currently sat in his shop didn't mean he couldn't set up shop for himself in his new tower. And besides, it might come in handy to have a few rare and valuable items.

But where to find such a thing? How to inquire about it without raising suspicions? In Storybrooke, he'd have already had it in his shop. He feared that if this was like Storybrooke, then his father might already have the ale. But if his shop was out of the question and this was Storybrooke, there was one other place he'd go for information…Granny's. The heart of Storybrooke, the hub of rumors, gossip, and occasionally news. Perhaps it was time to explore. Perhaps it was time to get out and see what the rest of this world had to offer. He could make his presence known without making his status of "alive" known, he was fairly certain, so it was decided. Introverted as he was and as much as he longed to keep to himself, he returned to the hub of the town and entered the diner.

It was, in fact, the oddest thing he'd ever seen.

His senses played tricks on him. The environment fooled him. It was just like home, but just off enough to be unnerving. Familiar. But not. There were people crowded into the diner, and it was hustling and bustling like Granny's was, but the stench of the sulfur over the food was wrong. The bodies and the movement were all right, but the general sorrow that hung in the air made it feel misplaced. And the woman behind the counter, instead of stubborn and knowledgeable, was…well hell, he'd thought he was lucky to have avoided the bitch while she lived, but there she was, living and breathing, cloudy blue eyes and all; the infamous Blind Witch.

"I smell…" she paused for a moment when he walked in, her senses obviously just as hackled as her magic suddenly was. "Power!" she stated excitedly as a smile crept across her face. "Gorgon has been waiting for you, Dark One…"

"Already met him," he managed with a bit of menace in his voice. It felt like ages since he'd last played this version of the Dark One. There was a time he could turn the "he" he'd been before "Mr. Gold" on and off like a switch. Now he felt rusty. It was like dusting off an old book he'd tossed aside ages ago, well-loved but already used up. He had to do better. "I'm looking for something particular, Dearie, something I'm hopeful you possess in this hellhole."

"Something you are willing to pay for?" she asked almost dreamily.

"I always see to my deals," he answered through gritted teeth as though he was angry she'd even bother to ask. He didn't feel angry. He felt nervous. What was the currency in a place like this?

"What can I get for you, Dark One."

"Ale…"

"That I have on tap-"

"…of Seonaidh." The few people in the room who hadn't been paying attention to them and their conversation were paying attention to him now, and he had the overwhelming feeling he'd just done something he shouldn't have. The place fell silent as eyes fell on him. He felt pressure, an instinct to correct, to fix it quickly, and maintain control before he could draw too much attention to himself and lose his influence over the situation.

He was rusty, his old persona felt too small for this job after the trials of Neverland, but slowly he forced a sneer over his face and began to chuckle. "Relax, dearie. Only a quip."

Almost immediately, the witch let out a breath as a smile started across her face, and she erupted into laughter. The wicked sound soon spread through the diner as conversations began to resume at a hum. They were still watching him, he was very aware of that, but with less critical eyes now.

"My, my, my, you didn't actually think I'd expect you to have that on tap, did you?" he joked with the Blind Witch.

"Of course not," she dismissed. "Such a thing would be better asked of your father."

"Indeed," he responded without missing a beat. It was like muscle memory. Shaking off the dust, oiling away the rust, The Dark One mask was starting to come back to him. And it was a good thing, too, because she'd just let slip a small kernel of knowledge that he was less than thrilled with. She knew Pan was his father. Excellent. He loved it when people knew his secrets.

"Just the ale then, Rumpelstiltskin."

"Just the ale," he conceded, acting as though it was all he wanted.

He watched as she made her way blindly over to a counter to grab a mug that looked less than clean and filled it up from the tap. "But of course…what will you give me for it?" the witch asked eagerly. Too eagerly. It seemed he had a fan. That wasn't exactly unwelcome at a time like this.

"What?" he scoffed. "No welcome drink for the Dark One."

"That's not usually how things work around here," she commented as she brought it to him.

"Ah, but I'm also not a usual resident, am I?"

"I suppose not…well…what's the harm in just one?"

"No harm at all," he assured her as he took it and found his way to a seat. This wasn't what he expected from Granny's, and yet it was. In a way, it was just like everything in this town. But as he sat there with his drink that he'd had to magically clean just to stomach it, he knew there could at least be something to this. Granny's was always the place for information and people-watching, two things he figured he desperately needed at the moment. So, he sat, and watched, and he drank. He took it all in around him, considering himself a sociologist studying this new culture he'd been dropped into and needed to quickly assimilate to. Every last detail of information was going to be of use.

This is a short sweet filler that provides Rumple with a lot of information that he needs and also gets him to Granny's. I wanted him to have an understanding of what Granny's was going to be like in a world like this. And I also wanted us to see him reach that point of determination in where he is. I wanted us to see him say, "I might be here longer than I like, I need to start making plans." What's more important, I wanted us to see him get to this point relatively fast. Not just to move the story along, but also because, frankly, it just makes sense. He's been here before, right? Maybe not to the Underworld specifically, but he's been in that position of being a World away from his family and wanting to get to them badly, but having to face the reality that he might have to be patient for a while. So for me, it just made sense that the conclusion he'd come to would be to go back to his old business, his old way of thinking. Knowing how it helped him orchestrate last time, he'd likely be optimistic it would help him again. He'd be looking for history to repeat itself.

Thank you, Rsbeall12 and Jennifer Baratta, for your constant reviews. I'm so very grateful for your support. I'm super excited about the next group of chapters. This is a short little fiction, and these next chapters will start bringing everything together perfectly. There's another old face that's going to come into the picture you might not be expecting, and we'll also going to get back to what brought Rumple here in the first place. That's right, I said, "get back to." You haven't forgotten how we started, have you? If you have, you might want to do a bit of review, it might come in handy as you continue to read! Peace and Happy Reading!