He owed his wife a honeymoon. A real, proper honeymoon. One where he could inspect the town line for whatever curses had been placed on it, one where he could come up with a way to take her away safely, without the risk of losing either of their memories and preferably without them having to make physical contact with a talisman the entire time. He owed her a honeymoon where they both got on a plane and experienced something new: new culture, new sights, new foods. He owed her a time when the power could go out in Storybrooke for as long as it wanted to, but there was no sense in bothering the pair of them because they were on their honeymoon. He owed her that much.

But not today. Though he desperately wanted that bill to be paid, he recognized that it wouldn't happen on this day or the near future. Not while there was work to be done.

While she showered, he checked the bag that he'd brought and made sure his dagger and the hat were safely contained within it. There was no reason why they wouldn't be. He summoned and banished things with his magic all the time; he never missed. But something about having both objects within his reach at this moment…it made him want to check. Once he confirmed they were safely away, he pulled out some new clothes for the day. He showered after Belle and stepped out of the bathroom, clean and put together, to find that she'd stripped the bed they'd used, a kindness for whoever might come after them, he supposed, and was now peering into her own bag.

She was staring at something, not rummaging around to find her keys or phone, just…staring. And given he knew that was where the fake dagger was…

"Belle?" he questioned.

Her breath hitched as she pulled her gaze away to glance at him over her shoulder. A smile spread over her face before she grabbed her coat and her bag. Together, they slipped their coats over their shoulders, returned to the car, and left.

He tried not to let on to the way the air bothered him. As far as Belle was concerned, this was a power outage and nothing more, but no matter how good she'd gotten at magic while he had been Zelena's captive, she'd never have the abilities he did to sense more in the air than just air. It was magic. It lingered, chilly and leaving a taste in his mouth that was…it was familiar, but not all at once. There was a feeling that he'd sensed magic like this before, but it was different enough that he couldn't place it. It was enough to make him glad they were going back to the shop. This wasn't just a power outage in a storm; magic was at play. And until he knew the target of the magic or identified the owner, he had no interest in being far from where he considered himself to be the strongest. And certainly, no interest in letting Belle wander too far.

"Not having power never used to make me nervous in the Enchanted Forest," she muttered when she stepped out of the car and wrapped her coat tighter around her. She might not feel the magic itself, but the temperature drop...that she felt.

"Well, you always had a fire handy to make a torch, if necessary," he muttered in explanation, standing beside her and doing his best to evaluate their current predicament. He didn't see anyone out and he couldn't feel any threats or people who weren't currently asleep, not in the immediate area at least. That was good for now. "That's not exactly the case in this land."

She nodded in agreement, and he appreciated the hand she wrapped around his arm as they walked toward the shop. He knew that she hated it when he became too overprotective. However, until they figured out what was going on, she'd either have to learn to accept it or lean into it as she was now. For good reason?

He felt something in the air change as they rounded the corner, and the shop came into view. The magic...it was stronger here. It wasn't so different that it made him miss a step, but it made his eyes sweep the streets again, looking for something that might have been wrong, for a hidden individual his magic might have missed. Whoever was in possession of the magic that caused this had been here, on this street, not too long ago. They'd been in his shop!

"Belle…" He stopped the second he noticed it.

"What?" The trail of magic that was flaring hovered around the door to his shop. No, not the door…just the knob.

"The lock's been tampered with," he realized before reaching out a hand to test the mechanism. It twisted easily in his hand. "The door's open. The lock's broken," he stated before gathering some magic into his hand. Why his magic wouldn't have alerted him to someone coming onto his property, he wasn't sure. It should have, unless…

Unless the wards he'd put up had fallen away or weakened during the blackout.

"Somebody's been here," he explained, gingerly stepping inside and examining the door, putting everything he had into identifying the strange magic he felt. There wasn't much magic that could get through his own defenses. Admittedly, they weren't exactly at full strength yet. He'd intended to do that after Zelena and then gotten distracted by their elopement, and now-

"Yes, I…I think he'd like some of your attention." Belle moved around him, touching his shoulder, and that was when he realized she was smiling at something in the corner.

Not something. Someone.

Henry sat in the shop, elbows on his knees, watching the pair of them quietly. He wasn't asleep, but his heart rate was calm and steady, easy to miss. And as for entering the shop…his magic would have had to work harder to sense a blood relative as opposed to anyone else. If the wards were down or weakened, it might have assumed Henry was him. Or Bae…

Belle walked away. She gave the boy a small wave as she headed into the back room; a small wave he barely acknowledged because he could feel Henry's attention on him.

Henry…this was the first time he'd seen him, talked to him since…since…Hook's ship?!

Was that right? Yes. It had to be.

Before the wedding he'd seen the boy, but Henry had always been with Emma or the Charmings, actively engaged with others. Before that, he'd been with Zelena, then the Underworld. And before that, there was the street that he'd died on, where he'd caught just a brief glimpse of him in his own body. They'd had a few interactions when he'd been Pan, but before that, they'd only ever been left alone together in the hold of Hook's ship as he'd been transferred back to Storybrooke after the stabbing. He hadn't had much interest in any kind of interaction with him before that because he'd been convinced he was an omen of death. Their last good time together had been when he'd bought him that hot dog in New York, before he realized that he was his grandson, before he'd met Bae. It felt like a lifetime had passed between then and now.

Well over a year without interaction between him and his own grandson left him staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. He had no buffer, no Belle, a million things to say, and yet not a word on his tongue. Where was he supposed to start?

"Hey, Henry," he greeted in a tone that didn't sound like himself. But he didn't know what tone was appropriate to take given all that he'd missed and given the fact that the boy was currently sitting in a dark shop with no light and a scowl on his face. "I assume there's a reason you're uh…camping inside my shop," he assumed, tossing his keys on the counter and trying to make it seem like this was a normal thing, like he didn't see himself or Bae in the angle of his nose or the color of his hair.

Light. He needed light. That would make it better.

"My memories…I want them back," Henry explained as he looked around.

There were candles in that cabinet…

He could probably turn on the lights with a wave of his hand, but that would also be a beacon for the people of Storybrooke to come barging in when he had electricity and they didn't. Besides…he'd lived in a world without electricity for centuries, he was fairly sure he and Belle, and the entire town, could manage again until things were figured out.

Electricity and memories, it seemed.

"Well…they were returned to you by your mother," he pointed out, one of those interesting facts he'd managed to overhear when he and Belle had been at the diner for the ceremony. It was, perhaps, a little bit more delayed if he still didn't have them all but being a teenager with a growing mind…sometimes magic took time. "If anything is still missing, that's probably down to playing too many video games."

He let out a laugh, remembering the times he'd checked in on Henry in the Land Without Magic while he'd been in the Underworld. He'd certainly been doing more than his fair share of gaming.

He smiled, lighting a match to-

"No, I want my fake memories back," Henry insisted in a tone that was…very un-Henry. He used magic to hide a tremble in his hands as he lit the candles and glanced up at the boy. "Of being in New York when I was happy, when I had forgotten about Storybrooke and my mom. I want those back. Or totally new fake ones. I just wanna forget."

He blew out the match and set the stub aside, his mouth going dry at his words. They made him ache. This wasn't Henry. This wasn't Bae's boy. Henry Mills, who had helped the Savior to break the Curse and adored his family, even when Regina was at her worst. They were the words of a teenager, potentially. Even Bae had wanted to run away from home, but wanting to forget…

"I see…" he breathed, setting the candles upon the glass of his cabinet and trying to remember old skills he'd had to put away so long ago. It was difficult. Henry wasn't here to talk to him as grandfather, he was here to talk to him as the Dark One. That was a role he knew how to play, a role he was comfortable putting on. And it would be so easy to fall into that habit, so much less awkward to just be the Dark One for him, but when it came to Henry…

Henry meant he couldn't just be the Dark One. He was the boy's grandfather. Just as he was Belle's husband, just as he was Bae's father. But the roles of Father and Husband were ones that he'd had time to break into; those small interactions that led to those designations had prepared him for those interactions, but this…he had nothing leading into this. There was no training, no falling into anything, no grace period as he discovered what it meant to be the boy's grandfather. One minute, he'd been feeding the boy destined to destroy him a hot dog, and the next, he'd been a grandfather to that boy and then hadn't seen him or talked to him again until he was…tall!

So tall!

He'd grown up so much! He looked like a young man now, but he sounded…he sounded like a boy. A teenager. A boy in a man's body who needed his father.

Or…maybe he didn't. Maybe not being a parent, but a grandparent at a time like this was precisely what he needed. The problem was that he'd never been much of a father, despite what Belle said. And he was fairly certain that being a good father was a prerequisite for being a good grandfather. Where to begin?

At the beginning. There was always a beginning to every story, a motivation, a "why." As Dark One, he'd never really cared about an individual's reason for why they wanted what they wanted, just so long as he could use them to his advantage. So, while Henry was here to utilize him as the Dark One, perhaps his best play was to be as unlike the Dark One as he could, to get to the bottom of why Henry was making the request, to come up with a solution that worked for Henry more than for him.

"So, has something happened with your mother?"

"Yeah, she's being a jerk!"

He laughed. "A jerk" was not exactly an uncommon accusation of a parent from the mouth of a teenager. Hell, when it came to one of the women Henry would call "mother" "Jerk" was a tame version of what she'd been called. Which reminded him…

"And of your mothers, we're speaking of…"

"Regina!"

He couldn't contain the shrug of confirmation as he smiled. Jerk certainly sounded right up the former Evil Queen's alley.

"I don't want any memories of her. Can you do that?" Henry pressed.

"Well, of course," he answered as he struck another match, more out of habit that he couldn't bear the thought that someone would think he was incapable of fulfilling such a simple request. He could. Memory potions were a particular talent of his. However…

"But I won't," he finished, lighting a candle within an antique lantern.

This was Henry. But it was a teenage Henry. A version of Henry he hadn't dealt with yet for a plethora of reasons, but namely simply because he was only just now coming of that age. He didn't know how to be a grandfather, but he'd been a teenager before, and he'd been a father to his son while he was a teenager. Briefly, of course, but he'd done it. He knew that drastic decisions over the simplest of problems were a hallmark. And he also knew that once upon a time, Bae had likely had a conversation similar to this with a certain fairy that had set everyone in this town down a course they hadn't intended to be on. He wasn't about to do the same thing.

"You see…the truth is memories are more often bad than good. We make mistakes, and throughout our lives, there's no avoiding them. And they're woven into a…a heavy cloak of regret that we wear until we die. Believe me…mine is heavier than most."

He took a breath and had to force his eyes to focus on the boy in front of him. This wasn't about him. This wasn't about Bae. This was about Henry. It had to be about Henry. For Bae.

"But it's bearing it that makes you learn, makes you strong."

"Have you learned?" Henry half asked, half accused.

He took another deep breath. This wasn't about him, at least it wasn't supposed to be about him. And yet…he had in fact given the dagger back to Belle, which would suggest he had learned. And yet, within less than six hours, that same dagger was now back in his possession, a secret from his new bride, but not without good reasons. Had he learned? Did anyone ever really "learn?"

"It's a gradual process," he settled upon.

"Well, I don't want to be strong. I want to forget."

No, he didn't. He only thought he did. Every teenager thought they did. Indulging them was how they ended up realms away.

"Even if that means losing all the memories that make you, you?" he pressed.

Henry paused as if to consider it, and he waited for the light to come on and his head to shake…only to see him nod in acceptance.

"No…come on…" he scoffed. That was a lie if he'd ever heard one. "You only think you can't stand it, but you can. You know why?" he questioned, leaning in a little bit closer, knowing that Bae would have killed to have this conversation with his son. Perhaps that was the key to this, to a man who had never been much of a father being a grandfather to a boy who had never had a father. Perhaps it was just getting closer to him, being on his level and being honest, that gradual work in progress. Perhaps it was just recognizing that even though Henry wasn't Bae, and he wasn't Neal, they were still family, even if their common link was missing. He knew that Henry didn't think he could stand it, but he knew that he could. And how did he know? Because he had.

"You have the lineage of the Dark One. Plus the blood of the Savior runnin' through your veins."

"Does that mean something?" Henry asked skeptically, hopefully.

He didn't know. Maybe. Saviors had a tendency to not live long enough to have children so he'd never done any research as far as Henry inheriting magic in that way, but as far as being a strong young man…that had already proven itself.

"Time will tell," he commented, hoping the boy would take something hopeful from it. "But only if you let things unfold as they ought."

Henry was less than enthused by the answer he'd received today; he could see that in his eyes as clearly as day. But he didn't feel like he'd failed in their first conversation. How could he? Being a teenager meant weathering storms that no one wanted to weather. Not getting what he wanted was just another part of growing up. He'd see that one day.

"Trust me, Henry," he sighed, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "You head on home." He gave him an encouraging shove in the direction of the door, knowing that this time of night, "home" was where the boy belonged.

"Oh!" he realized, glancing at the door with the broken lock he'd now need to replace. Another part of being a teenager…actions had consequences. And maybe since he hadn't given him what he needed this time, this consequence might lead him back here so that one day he could ask for something he could give him. "And uh…you'll pay me back for the broken lock."

"That wasn't me," Henry stated, turning to face him without a hint of nerves or fear in his voice. "It was open when I got here."

I wanted this chapter to be painstakingly detailed and incredibly wordy. At least in the beginning. I wanted to lose a little bit of that as the conversation went on, but still not all of it. The reason for it is simple: our dear Rumple is nervous. And when people get nervous they start to overthink everything and anything from the details of the room, every little thing they feel, every slight motion the other person does. I really wanted Rumple to feel that in this moment. Because it is a big moment for him. This is the first time he really gets any kind of interaction with Henry and I know that he'd want it to be meaningful and something like that is bound to create pressure where it didn't exist before. I hope I got it here.

Thank you Rsbeall12 for your review on the previous chapter. Much appreciated. I hope that you'll enjoy this chapter. In my head there are really two reasons to have companion pieces or series, as Moments and Chronicles are for one another. The first is the fill in the blanks, the second is to get a change of perspective. I feel like, where my series are concerned, we've gotten plenty of the former, but this particular fiction is exceptionally heavy on the latter. There will be some explanation here of filling in gaps, but for the most part this is one fiction where we see a lot of two different perspectives and I really like it. I can't wait to write it again in 6B. Right now, the promise of those fictions are what's getting me through 4B-6A. I hope that you'll enjoy it all! Peace and Happy Reading!