6.

The last person Neal had wanted to see when he left Granny's diner had been August Booth. The way that his papa - the way that Gold - had fled after seeming to open up - perhaps even remembering him on some subconscious level that this crazy curse was trying to interpret - had been like a kick to the gut. He had thought he was so close and then he'd just run. While that was very much like his papa, he didn't have to like it. Even in the days before the Dark Curse, Rumplestiltskin hadn't run from him. He was his son, his only child. Surely that had to transcend even a memory erasing curse, right?

Then that lying little bastard had shown up. All Neal had wanted to do was go for a walk and clear his mind, maybe talk to Emma, but no. He couldn't even do that. He had to be ambushed by the man that couldn't leave him well enough alone. If August had never shown up he would never have known that his papa was here and he wouldn't feel obligated to help. Granted, if he hadn't known he was here, he wouldn't have come and those men likely would have attacked him anyway, leaving Gold dead on his own shop floor in just another robbery gone bad. Mr Gold never would have had a chance to remember that he was really Rumplestiltskin and that he had crossed worlds to get to his son. Assuming that that was true. Neal had no way to know for sure until he came back to himself.

August had even tried to turn him against the only ally he'd managed to find. Regina had been nothing but helpful. She was informed and intelligent, likely a sorceress in her own right if she'd befriended the Dark One and knew as much as she did. If the little puppet thought he was going to drive a wedge there, he'd be left wanting for quite some time.

It took hours for Neal to settle down enough that he thought he could go back to the hotel. The air had turned colder than it had been that sunny afternoon and his coat wasn't nearly heavy enough for it. He pulled it close and stomped up the stairs, leaving a trail of snow and muck behind him. It had taken those hours to come to terms with a few things.

The first was that while he didn't trust August, there was nothing he could do about it. Not yet. Whale had thought it was the concussion talking when he'd told them in the hospital that the fairies had been behind it. He wasn't going to repeat that mistake.

The second was that he wouldn't take the easy route out. He'd been arguing with himself and had thought that he had found his solid ground in that, but the reaction that he received at the end of lunch had hurt more than he liked to admit. He didn't know quite who to trust and there was danger lurking around every corner. He was approaching the shadows with this mess and anything could happen, but he was determined not to let it deter him.

That was really the only thing that kept him going when Gold refused to speak to him. He didn't kick him out of the shop the next day when he dropped by, nor the next, but he didn't really speak to him either. The shop owner found other things to busy himself with and left Neal to wander the storefront and try to glean a little more information about the man that his papa was hidden behind. The walls were up and Gold was firmly behind them with Rumplestiltskin buried even deeper. Neal forced himself to walk through that door every day for a week, though, each time trying to drum up a conversation or even more than a few words.

Regina wasn't certain how to bring Rumplestiltskin forward. She seemed to think there was a way, at least, but she seemed certain that he had prepared himself to wake at whatever time that he had planned to come after his son and not a moment sooner.

"It gets a bit dull," the mayor admitted one afternoon as they sat at Granny's together. "All the little people scurrying around you and you're the only one really here." She took a sip from her coffee cup and peered over it. "Your father is a very intelligent man. I'm sure he has a plan."

"I just wish I knew what it was."

"You and me both," she murmured, and she seemed to be enjoying a private joke. "Is he still not speaking to you?"

"Not really. I mean, he's as nice to me as he is any other customer that walks in and isn't trying to shoot him, I guess."

Regina snorted a laugh.

"Did he really never mention me?"

"Your father plays everything very close, Neal. That's just who he is. He probably thought he was protecting you by keeping even his closest friends from finding out."

"He was always so convinced that someone would want to hurt me," Neal sighed. "Now I'm worried about someone hurting him."

"You're a good son," Regina said quietly.

"You know, Blue said something like that. Twice, actually, but I think I'm more inclined to believe it from you." He paused, his head tilting just a little to the side. "Where did you meet my dad?"

Regina didn't answer right away, and when she did she glanced around as if to make sure that no one was around to hear. "I studied under him."

"Seriously? Papa taught you?"

"Yes, he did. He is quite a good teacher when he puts his mind to it, but don't you dare tell him I said so."

"My lips are sealed," Neal said with a grin. He tried to imagine his father - or, at least, that strange combination of his papa and the raging Dark One that he'd become - teaching anyone, much less Regina. She seemed so kind. Guarded, true, but still kind. She'd been willing to help him when others had simply wanted to use him. He didn't know what he'd do if he hadn't met her. He probably would have run screaming from the utter insanity that was Storybrooke.

"Are you going by his shop today?" Regina asked conversationally.

"Yeah. I'm planning on it."

"Does he seem to recognize you at all when you do?"

"Only as Neal," Neal said sadly. He never would have thought that would be a bad thing. Neal was a safety net while Bae was his troubled and very dangerous past. He'd been happy to put it all behind him when he'd returned from Neverland, but now there was a strange comfort in the fact that someone knew him for who he really was. It was like a refugee coming out of hiding.

"I spoke to the sheriff last night, and he seems to think they're closing in on the attacker that got away."

Neal blinked, setting his fork back down to the plate, lasagna temporarily forgotten. "Yeah? Has he made an arrest?"

"Not yet."

"Who is it?"

"I didn't ask."

"Well why the hell not? His buddy tried to kill my dad."

"Even if he is caught, the curse may never let this go to trial. Where would they put him if convicted? No one can leave this place."

Neal stared. Regina had explained various details of the curse over the stretch of the week. Time was frozen in Storybrooke. Clocks didn't tick, lives were lived in a sort of foggy existence, and while false memories were implanted, if he were to try to pin down a date or some other detail the person would likely not be able to tell him. He'd tried it out a couple of times. Gold couldn't seem to recall the exact date he'd graduated law school and moved to Maine, Granny couldn't give an exact account of how many years either of her businesses had been open, and so on and so forth.

"I still have trouble believing Papa did all of this to get to me," he said quietly. "I mean, are people happy here? Did he curse a whole group of people just so that he could find a place to slip between the worlds? I'm not a magic expert or anything, but I would think that would take a lot of skill on top of power."

"It does indeed," Regina said with a mysterious smile and she motioned for the check. "I have some things to take care of this evening at town hall. If you need me, you know where to find me."

Neal nodded and offered a wave as she stood. "Give me a call if you find out any more about this guy?"

"Of course."

He watched her leave and sighed. He hadn't made it over to the shop yet and it was starting to get late now. If he didn't go pretty soon he might miss him altogether. It was starting to weigh on him, but determination kept him going back. His papa had come looking for him, so there had to be a way to jolt him back to himself. He just wished that he knew how.

Regina pulled the collar of her jacket up around her ears and sank down into it so that her dark red scarf covered half of her face, separating her from the chilly December evening. Things might actually be looking up. A stranger in her town had not boded well before, but this one had turned into a real treat. Neal was clever, even if a bit more trusting than his father, and so very desperate for someone that understood. She couldn't blame him. It was easy to feel like the lone person on a tiny little island in the middle of the ocean in this world. She wasn't the only one with her memories, of course, but Jefferson hardly counted. He wasn't much for socialising anyway. Nor was Maleficent.

Not that they were the only ones to remember. The Evil Queen scowled at the thought. That damn blue bug had somehow managed to come through with her memories intact and brought someone with her. She couldn't be sure who the little henchmen Blue had working for her were, but Regina would bet that the lead fairy was using them to keep her own hands clean. Typical fairy. Typical Blue. She just couldn't help but stick her nose into everything, but she kept herself so high above it all that no one saw her for who she truly was. At least Regina admitted to being what she was. She had no disillusions about it. She had long since embraced the darkness, just as Rumple had taught her to. Blue, on the other hand, never would, and that would be her own foolishness.

"Hey!" a voice called out from the otherwise empty street. She didn't recognize the voice, so Regina ignored him, carrying on with her trudging towards Town Hall. It wasn't until she heard footsteps approaching behind her and the term "Your Majesty" tumble from the stranger's lips that she turned, finding an unfamiliar face staring back at her.

"Who the hell are you?" she bit out crossly.

He looked like he was trying very hard to act brave as he circled around her to stand in her way. "August Booth, but that's not important."

"You're right. It's not. The fact that you're in my way is. Now get out." He followed the step she tried to make to get around him and her glare darkened. "Are you deaf?"

"I know that you're playing Neal for something," he said in a rush and suddenly she knew who he was.

A slow, menacing smile crossed her painted lips. "Well then, you're the boy that brought him into Storybrooke, aren't you? Marco's long-lost son. The puppet. I see that the Blue Fairy is still pulling your strings."

Booth grimaced at that and she knew she'd struck a chord. "Who I am doesn't matter," he mumbled. "What matters is that Neal gets his dad and gets as far away from this as possible."

"No one can leave Storybrooke," Regina answered with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Rumple isn't going anywhere, and from what I've seen, neither is his son. You should have thought about all of this before you dragged Baelfire into this cursed little town."

"I didn't know before. If I had, I would never have brought him here in the first place." Regina knew guilt when she saw it and it was weighing heavily on the puppet-turned-boy that had grown up since she'd cast the curse. She had no idea how he'd gotten to this world, but she had a pretty good idea how he'd found them. That damn fairy was going to meet her end in a ball of fire.

"Such a sad tale." the queen remarked and this time she got around him. "Though from what I hear he won't believe a word of it. A bit of advice, puppet, if you're going to betray someone, they shouldn't find out until you've won."

"There's no winning with Magnus."

Magnus. Now that caught her attention. Regina had heard that name before. He was the lead cleric of a sect that had devoted their entire existence to destroying the Dark One's Curse and the man under it. They had been around long before Rumple, from what she understood, but he had been the one to knock heads with them for the last three centuries. She heard about them in passing from her former teacher, but could never wheedle any details from him.

Regina turned on the puppet. "Magnus is here? In Storybrooke?"

Booth frowned. "If you have any loyalty left to Rumplestiltskin you'll find a way to get him out from under this curse. I can't say anymore. You're right," he said with a mirthless laugh, "they have too tight a hold on me."

A small piece of her felt a hint of pity for him, but she crushed it instantly. "That doesn't make you very useful, does it?" she growled. "Do you know what I do with useless things?"

"No worse than he can do to me, I promise you," Booth answered, his blue eyes clear. "He won't listen to my warnings anymore, so maybe he'll listen to you. He's got someone that loves him where he came from. If he and his dad can get out, you can continue on the way you and everyone's happy except… well, you know." Everyone. The word wasn't said, but it was hanging in the air between them.

The boy really was frightened. Or he was smart. Names had power and Regina knew that well. She didn't say anything further as she tilted her head up and started back in the direction she'd been heading, her mind whirling. Magnus and his clerics had somehow made it through with the curse and had managed to retain their memories. That was powerful magic of a kind that she was certain she would know even in this world if she ran across it. Rumple would too, she realized, even if he was buried deeply beneath Gold. Her thoughts jerked roughly over to the conversation they'd had over a question that seemed to plague the shop owner, if he'd admit it or not: Jacob Dawson.

Regina moved straight to her desk when she entered her office and pulled a drawer open. She'd set Sindey after more information when her own initial research came up with nothing useful. He'd found a little more, and now that she was looking at the paperwork with a new perspective she was certain. Her dark eyes continued to skim the file he'd delivered to her and she pulled out her cell and dialed a familiar number. "Graham? It's me. Remember that cook at Granny's you had the lead on? The one from the armed robbery at Gold's? I think I may know who he's working for. Come by my place tonight and we can chat."

There was going to be a day when Rumplestiltskin woke up, and when he did he was going to owe her. Big time.

Gold was tired. He had a tendency to run himself ragged, but since Neal Cassidy had come to town he'd barely slept. Every night he woke screaming a name he didn't know, and when he tried to recall what the dream had been about it would slip away from him as if his mind simply refused to hold onto any details for it. All he knew was that they haunted him, leaving him exhausted when he woke, and anything meaningful was lost to the haze of sleep.

He had decided to close down early that night. It was the first time he'd done so in ages, but he hadn't seen Neal that day and he thought of he could slip out now he might avoid seeing him at all. If he didn't see him, if he didn't make eye contact with the man that somehow reminded him of his long-dead son, maybe he could get some sleep.

Snow was falling lightly from the sky as Gold limped along towards his old Cadillac at an unhurried pace. He'd always liked the cold. It cleared his mind and let him think. It was always a nice excuse to curl up next to one of his ornate fireplaces at home and tinker at one of the projects he currently had at the house. He rounded the corner into the wide alley and started down towards his car.

Screeching tires echoed through the quiet street and Gold looked up, seeing a boxy Volkswagen squealing around the corner and barrelling straight towards him. He watched it for half a moment, certain that they would veer back to the other side of the road. His car was always parked there, after all, and it was impossible to miss.

It became evident that the driver had no intention of slowing down or pulling over. There was no way to hobble over to his side of the street in time, so Gold did what his weak ankle would allow him do to get to the other side of the alleyway. The tires squealed and he wasn't sure if it was a patch of ice or his own haste that sent him tumbling against the hard asphalt of the street, but it was a good thing he did. The Volkswagen slammed into the Cadillac's back left bumper, pulling it around with it and sending it spinning out into the middle of the alley. He'd been standing there moments before, but now he was scrambling as best he could to get out of the car's way as it sped closer to him. The driver was trying to run him over. That was the only explanation, even if it didn't make any sense. He managed to roll out of the way and by the time that he righted himself the car was gone and halfway down the main street.

Mr Gold's sat there for a long moment, taking a mental inventory. His ankle ached terribly and he'd managed to put a hole in the knee of his expensive slacks. His cane had clattered away in the fall, likely scuffed and dirtied from the fall, but if that was the worse that he walked away with, he thought he could live with that. What he couldn't live with was not knowing what the hell was going on. A week before he'd nearly been shot down in his own shop and tonight a car had just about run him into the ground outside of it. In a town where nothing had changed in all the years he'd been there, an awful lot seemed to be happening.

"Mr Gold? You okay?"

And that particular young man had something to do with it, he was certain. He was the only factor that continuously didn't add up.

"Besides nearly being run down outside my place of business, I'm grand," the shop owner snapped.

Neal frowned as he moved closer. "They got really close, didn't they?" he murmured and Gold's dark eyes darted over and glared irritably.

"Well if you have any information to share as to who they are that would be wonderful."

That turned the younger man's expression a little nervous. "I wish I did. Regina said-"

"Oh Regina sticks her nose into any situation that it doesn't belong in," Gold growled as he finally pulled himself to his feet and dusted his ruined slacks off the best he could. "Unless you know something of some actual use, I'd rather you let me well enough alone."

"Hey, I'm just trying to help you figure out who these guys are and what they want..."

"No one asked you too. In fact, they didn't show up until you did, so if you'd really like to do me a favour you'll just leave."

He was fuming, and while the more logical end of his brain somehow knew that this probably wasn't Neal's fault - if everything he had said was true he was pulled in as an unexpecting pawn to the whole damn thing and they hadn't even gotten that right - but that just didn't matter at the moment. Right then Gold needed an outlet for the frustration, for the confusion, and yes, if he were honest with himself, for the fear that he'd been feeling. For the past week he hadn't been able to shake the feeling that someone was watching him. Strange things were happening all over the place, but he seemed to be the only one that noticed. People were popping up where they had never been before and they were watching him. He'd always leaned just a little to the side of the paranoid, but he wasn't imagining it. Tonight proved it and Mr Gold wanted it to end. No matter the cost.

Neal Cassidy looked like he'd been struck, but Gold waved him off. "You said you have a father out there that you thought you were going to help. Go help him and leave me be."

"Fine," he managed. "If that's really what you want. There's no taking it back if it is. If I go, I'm not coming back this time."

"Why on earth would I care if you ever come back to Storybrooke?" Gold snapped, filtering a little more irritation into his voice that was really left there. The boy just needed to leave. He would leave and things would return to normal. He liked normal. Normal was good for business and apparently good for his health.

A ringtone filled the otherwise quiet night air and Neal stuck his hand into his jacket pocket and tugged his phone out. "Hey, Emma," he greeted, turning his back to the elder man. Whatever else he said to the girl on the other end of the line was lost to Gold though, as the world shifted under his feet. It tilted and rocked and nearly brought him to his knees. In that moment, that terrible and frightening moment, Mr Gold shattered into millions of tiny pieces. More to the point, the façade of Mr Gold broke to pieces and left Rumplestiltskin standing in his place on a dark street in the middle of a tiny, cursed town on the coasts of Maine.

Emma, his mind supplied through the raging memories and three hundred years worth of knowledge. Emma. Emma. Emma. What a lovely name. It had been that name that broke him free, that name that had shook him awake. He had to remember to breathe, but his body didn't seem to be obeying him at that moment. Images and words and names flew in and fought for a place at the forefront of his mind until it did finally take him to his knees. He wasn't ready for this. He'd been ready for it eventually, but this was too early. It had been just over seventeen years since the curse was cast. They had eleven more to go. That had been the prophecy, but only the savior's name could have woken him. Then it struck him: a memory from just a moment before. Mr Gold's harsh words and a young man that had saved the shop owner's life looking like his father had betrayed him. Again. Because he had.

"Bae." The name left his lips in a broken whisper. It sounded like a shout in the cold night and his breath showed as he looked up from his place where his knees had given and his son - his son! How could he not have known? - turned with the phone still pressed to his ear.

Dark eyes so like Rumplestiltskin's own widened just a little. "Emma, I'm going to have to call you back. I'll see you in a couple of days." The phone clicked shut and he looked as if he were trying to hide his worry. "Did the car actually hit you? Listen, I get that you don't really like me for whatever reason you have stuck in that mind of yours, but that's stupid to-"

"Bae," Rumplestiltskin repeated and he could barely get the name past the lump in his throat. He struggled to his feet, completely forgetting that his ankle was as useless in this world as it had been before he'd taken on his curse in the last. It buckled under him and he pitched forward, Baelfire's hands reaching out to catch him. He wasn't close enough and he hit the ground hard again, a soft cry escaping him. It didn't matter. Bae was there. He could still fix this. He could fix Gold's mistake, his own mistakes. He could fix this. He had to.

"Papa?" Bae asked tentatively, and Rumplestiltskin could hardly blame his son for being nervous.

"I'm so sorry, son," he rasped and their eyes met.

Slowly a disbelieving smile spread across Baelfire's lips. "You remember?"

"Yes. I'm so sorry. Please don't leave. I'm so sorry." He needed to tell him why he was here, and how he'd worked since the day that Bae had dropped through that terrible portal to get to him. He was a young man in his early twenties. Likely very little time at all had passed for him, but for his papa it had been centuries. Surely Rumplestiltskin had suffered enough for his terrible mistake. He hoped he had. All he wanted was his boy.

Bae's arms wrapped around his neck and the explanation died in his mind as he hugged his only child back, whispering his name again and again. He had found him and Bae hadn't turned him away. The scene had played out in his mind countless times over the years - nearly on repeat as he sat in the Charmings' not-so-charming cell beneath the mines - and in so many different ways. Sometimes Bae had been a child still, frozen in time as if his papa had come right after him. The worse thoughts that he'd hoped were not visions were the ones where he found a grave marker and he'd been too late. He hadn't, though. He'd found his son alive and well, or better yet, Bae had found him.

"I'm so sorry, Bae," Rumplestiltskin whispered again.

"You said that already," his son tried for a tease, and he looked as tentative about the situation and Rumplestiltskin felt.

"I need you to know I'm not just saying it. I've been looking for a way - any way - to find you for three centuries." His vision blurred and he didn't mind the tears that stood in his eyes. "I love you, Bae. I'm so sorry, son."

Bae wrapped his arms around him again and buried his nose in the crook of his papa's neck. They held onto each other like that on the street across from the pawn shop. "I'd wondered how long it was for you," Bae whispered and pulled back.

He blurred dangerously, but his papa only chuckled. "Guess that's why my head's pounding like it is. Lots of memories all at once."

"Are you okay?"

"No," he said in a small, honest voice. "But I will be. I wasn't… I thought it'd be some time yet. Everything wasn't in place."

"Sorry to bust up your plans."

"The plan was to find you. The path… doesn't matter."

"Papa?"

His head was swimming now and the two Baelfires he had been seeing slowly split into three. He would be fine, he meant to promise again, but he didn't have time as his mind gave under the sudden pressure and everything went black.

TBC

Notes: Sorry I haven't gotten back to anyone on reviews the last bit of time. I've been sick all week. To the point that I'm literally awake long enough to post this and shuffle back off to bed.

Next time - Bae and Rumple discuss where to go from there and loyalties are questioned.