Looking for My Bae

Snapegirlkmf

"Chocolate" verse 3

Day 1:

Finally the day came when Rumple finished figuring out the way to keep his memories when he crossed the town line. It involved invoking the strength of his true love for the one he needed to find, and creating a potion from his memories of Bae, the best memories he could recall, and binding them to the shawl he had of his son. With it on, he could safely recall who he was even over the town line in a world without magic. Little did he know that was a bit of a misnomer. Blue had only assumed that, she did not know for certain. He also created a memory pendant for Belle, a locket with his picture in it, and a second potion he brewed which contained her happiest memories of him, putting a drop of it on the locket.

Then he booked two roundtrip tickets to New York, which was where his Seeing globe had shown him Bae was residing, in an apartment in Manhattan's upper West Side. He wondered what his son did for a living, since that part of the city was kind of ritzy. But the globe only showed where Bae was, and didn't give many details. But it was enough so Gold got an address from the apartment building and the street sign.

That would have to be enough. He and Belle packed a small suitcase each, intending to stay maybe a week before coming back home. During that time, Rumple prayed that he could reconcile with his estranged son and explain exactly what had happened to him at the portal, which had in fact nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the compulsion of the dagger, something he had never counted on and therefore had been unable to prepare for. And he had spent almost three lifetimes researching ways to overcome the dagger's compulsion and regretting ever letting go of Bae and agreeing to trust that shady Blue Fairy. Since he couldn't take the dagger with him, he made sure it was in a secure place. One only he and Belle knew about.

Regina was rather grouchy that he was leaving, especially since she had word from an unusual source that he mother Cora was trying to come to this new world to invade Storybrooke. "How can you leave at a time like this?" she had snapped at him in his shop the other day.

"Simple. I pack my bag and drive," he replied flippantly.

"My mother is coming here!" she growled, frustrated. "Doesn't that concern you?"

"Not as much as it does you, dearie," he said maddeningly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you're the one with the past problem with Mommy Dearest, Mayor. I, on the other hand, have a date to go and find someone I've been looking for for over three hundred years." He answered, with a note of total unconcern in his voice.

"Is that all you care about, Gold?"

"To paraphrase you, I will do anything to find my son, he is my life," he growled. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a plane to catch."

She glared at him. "I hope it malfunctions with you on it!" she said uncharitably.

"That's nice, dearie. Your well wishes for my safe return are greatly appreciated."

"Shut up, Rumple!"

"You know, dearie, if I were you, I'd be hoping I return, because without me, as they say here, you're up shit's creek without a paddle," he quipped, smirking. The he flipped the sign on his shop to "Closed".

Regina shot him another glare then muttered, "Bon voyage, Gold!" and stomped out, madder than a wet hen.

Rumple sniggered. "Temper, temper."

Page~*~*~*~*~Break

Logan International Airport:

Belle insisted on stopping at Dunkin Donuts for coffee and a toasted coconut donut. Rumple just had coffee because he was too nervous to risk putting anything in his stomach. Belle got him a cinnamon apple cider one to go. Then she asked if he wanted anything to read on the plane. She had brought her Nook with her, but Rumple had forgotten to pack any reading material, so anxious was he to get on the road after his confrontation with Regina.

"You wait here and I'll get you something," she told him, hurrying into the Barnes and Noble satellite store. She returned a moment later with two books, one called Don't Sweat the Small Stuff and another on the Scottish hero Rob Roy, knowing he liked historical novels on Scotland.

He looked at the first book and murmured, "Is it that obvious?"

"Only to me," she replied. "Rumple, I know you're nervous, but please, you have to relax a bit."

He sighed. "I have longed for this moment almost my whole life, and yet . . .I am now as nervous as cat being chased by a pack of wild dogs."

"You'll be fine," she soothed. "Read this."

He lofted an eyebrow. "Have you?"

"Of course. While I was home laid up with my injuries."

His mouth quirked. "I should have known." He took the bag with the books and tucked it under his arm.

Soon it was time to get on line for the routine security check before they went through the gate for their flight.

Before them was a family of two dark-haired boys and a light brown haired girl along with their mother. The girl looked to be about eleven and the boys around nine and seven. The boys were playing with cell phones, and the girl looked bored. Suddenly, the younger boy whispered something and poked the older boy.

The elder boy scowled and pushed the younger one, and then he banged into his sister who hissed, "Knock it off, jerkface!" The girl in turn bumped into Rumple.

She immediately turned and said contritely, "Sorry, sir. My brothers are animals." Then she spun and hissed at the two boys, "You dumb butts! You almost made me knock over that poor old man with the cane!"

I'm an old man now? Gold thought, half in amusement. He fasted a Look of disapproval on the two snickering boys like he used to give his son when he misbehaved.

The boys hung their head and muttered, "Sorry, mister."

Their mother looked like she wanted to die. "Please forgive them, sir. It's been a long delay. Pearce, Harvey, next time I ought to leave you home if this is how you're gonna behave."

"I had one just like him, ma'am," Gold said quietly. The two boys reminded him so much of his lost Bae it ached.

Her sons shuffled their feet and looked ashamed now.

Their sister rolled her eyes at them as if to say, "Brothers!"

"Thank you for understanding, sir," their mother said gratefully. "Come along you two, it's our turn next."

Up ahead there was a man at the security counter repeating the same tired line over and over. "All carryon items, coats and shoes please put them in the basket."

Belle frowned. She had heard about security procedures but this seemed crazy. "They want us to take off our shoes?"

Rumple grimaced, imagining stepping on the floor, even in his socks, where hundreds of people had been. "How very uncivilized!" he grumbled as he removed his Gucci loafers and put them in the basket along with his coat.

"Sir, you need to put your cane in there too," remarked a man behind them.

Gold turned. "I need it to walk."

"It says—all carry on items," pointed out the annoying man. "What don't you understand, old man? You dumb as well as crippled?"

Belle was incensed at his rudeness. "How dare you!"

He leered at her. "Hey babe, once you put your grandpa to bed how's about you and me having a good time?"

"I'd sooner sleep with a crocodile, you ignoramus!" she hissed angrily.

Gold's eyes narrowed. "If you don't mind your own business you're going to end up impaled upon my cane!"

Fearful this would escalate into a brawl and they would be thrown out of the airport, Belle took Rumple's arm and said, "Just ignore him, sweetheart. He has penis envy." Then she looked right at the gaping man, who was in his late twenties, and smirked.

Behind them a lady in her forties began applauding and hooted, "You sure told him, honey!"

Belle drew Rumple away, flushing slightly, and her fiance looked at her and whispered, "Really, dearie? I think he had a bad case of idiocy!" But Belle noticed he walked a little more confidently and stood straighter after that exchange.

As they went over by the scanner, the tech said, "Sir, you can use your cane to walk through the detector, but you need to put your scarf in the basket."

"My-my scarf?" Gold stammered. "But I can't . . .err . . ."

Belle understood and said quickly, "It's just for a moment, Rum. I'll help you." The tech was looking at them oddly and she swiftly improvised, "This shawl is very special to him, it belonged to his son who was MIA in the Gulf War and we've just recently discovered he's been released and are on our way to meet him. It was the last thing he had shipped home . . ."

The tech now looked understanding. "I'm glad you found him, sir. I hope your reunion is a happy one. I'll make sure nothing happens to this."

Rumple put the scarf in the basket, and then let Belle lead him through the metal detector, feeling disorientated and clumsy.

As soon as the scarf came into view on the other end of the conveyor belt, Belle grabbed it and put it on Rumple. Almost instantly he recalled himself and the befuddled look left his eyes. Collecting their belongings, they moved on down towards the gate.

Once on board the plane, after take off, Belle noticed Rumple looked terribly nervous and tried to get him to calm down by drinking some ginger ale and eating the donut she had purchased for him.

She wished there had been a way to contact Bae and get him to agree to meet them halfway somewhere, so Rumple didn't have to fly anywhere to find him. She knew her fiancé was a homebody and didn't like traveling so far from home. But he would do so in order to find the son he had lost so long ago. He had told her all about Bae and the portal on their way to Logan International Airport. And why he had been unable to go through it until the curse had ripped him from the Enchanted Forest.

Both of them had speculated and come to the conclusion that the Blue Fairy had most likely known about the fact that Rumple couldn't travel voluntarily to a Land Without Magic. She had intended to separate him and his son, perhaps in her stiff necked arrogant way assuming Bae was better off without his evil father.

Rumple just hoped that when he found his son he could get Bae to listen to reason. Or to even see him at all.

Feeling slightly ill, he drank some more ginger ale and read the books Belle had bought him. That and eating the donut kept him busy and his mind off his impending meeting for the rest of the flight.

When they landed at JFK, they took a cab to the address Rumple had, and Belle dozed as Rumple peered out the window at the skyline of Manhattan. Somewhere in that sprawling city that never slept was his son, whom he had damned himself for several times over. But he had never even considered stopping looking for him. Bae was his family, and his family meant everything to him, and always had. Not even the dagger curse had managed to sever that tie. And once he found Bae again . . .his quest would be complete.

Page~*~*~*~Break

Manhattan:

Baelfire Spinner, as he was now known to the people of New York, having changed his identity from the former Neal Cassidy in order to make certain people of fanatical persuasion didn't find him after they had almost destroyed his family five years ago on shores of Loch Eala in the Scottish Highlands, was mixing up another palette and painting the way the mist had looked in the early morning as it rose off the loch, a sight he had seen many times from the window of the ancient Castle Swan Flight, the ancestral home of his wife Sorcha Lir. That place had been magical—a place where the realm of dreams and the earth had touched, a place where the swans flew in and out in the mists and swam upon the loch and made their nests along the shore. A place of moonlit trysts and silver dawn, a place where he had learned anew about hope, love, family, and the magic that dwelled in those of the Lir bloodline.

It was place that had captured his soul, as had the woman who dwelled there had captured his heart. Sorcha Lir had been an incredible artist with a beautiful gift , and she had given him back the heart and family he had thought forever lost to him. He shut his eyes and saw her there, in his memory, her sun-kissed dark hair blowing in the wind, her amber eyes glowing, in her green, blue, and gold plaid skirt and billowing white shirt, and when he opened his eyes, he looked across his studio to where the unfinished sculpture sat, partially hewn out of ice white Venetian marble, the body and wings of a swan outstretched, transforming into the upper body of a beautiful woman.

Sorcha. My wild ebony swan. God, how I miss you.

Even now he could not recall her without a lump in his throat though it had been five years since he had lost her. But he would never forget. The curse of his eidetic memory as well as a very tangible reminder would always remind him of the one he had found by chance upon a summer's day on a hike in Scotland, walking among the heather with the sun shining upon her hair.

He dipped a brush in his paint and began to add some detail to the deerhound in the foreground, and then he swirled some more mist along the loch shore, close beside the castle on a hill.

As he did so, he glanced at his watch. He had forty-five minutes to paint left.

Just then his doorbell buzzed, letting him know there was someone at the gate who needed to be let through. Assuming it was one of his art students, as he was a professor at the prestigious Cooper Union college, he pressed a button and called, "C'mon up, the door's open!"

Some of his students sometimes had questions even after class was done and to certain ones he had given his home address so they could come and see him if needed. Art was not something you could discuss over the phone, or in a chatroom or a text usually. It required tactile supervision.

He heard footsteps and then the door to the apartment opened, as he had unlocked it as well. "I'm in here!" he called, his studio was just off the kitchen, and usually flooded with sunlight from the floor to ceiling windows on one side. A large drafting table and a chair were set up on one side, with colored pencils, pastels, and brushes on it, next to reams of paper. Easels and drop clothes, a broom and shovel, along with a large block of granite, a bucket of water and some clay dust lay in one corner of the room, with chisels and mallets. The other side was devoted to his paintings, some finished and mounted, others not yet completed. Photographs were pinned upon the walls and swatches of colors as well of all kinds of fabrics. One painting had a blue and green plaid half draped over it, of a swan swimming next to a cherubic baby girl.

He set down his palette and brushed his hands down his work apron, frowning as he saw some paint had spattered on his jeans-again. He looked up as the footsteps halted behind him. "Hey, what do you think of—oh my God!"

He nearly toppled right off his chair as he came face to face with a man he had never thought to see ever again.

"Papa?"

"Bae!"

That was almost all Rumple could manage just then, as his throat worked as he took in the man sitting before him, which was all that remained of the boy he once knew.

Bae looked to be around twenty-nine or thirty, his curly dark hair tamed a little, and trimmed somewhat shorter than usual. His face was tanned by the sun and wind and a little fuller than Rumple recalled. His son wore a blue plaid shirt, sleeves rolled up, and jeans with a smear of paint on it. Over that was a worn white apron with more smears of paint and other stains.

His eyes were still the same deep dark pools they had always been, and his hands clutched a paint brush as if for dear life. The glint of gold on his ring finger startled Belle into exclaiming, "Rumple, you didn't tell me your son was married!"

"Who are you?" Bae demanded sharply, finally regaining his powers of speech.

"I'm Belle French, your father's . . .fiancee," she replied, holding out a hand. "Pleased to meet you, Baelfire."

Bae took the pretty woman's slender hand in his, then spat out, "You—he—you're engaged?"

"You're married?" Gold gasped.

"Was. I'm not anymore."

"Divorced?"

Bae gave a curt jerk of his head. "No. She died."

Gold's brown eyes glittered with sympathy. "I'm sorry, son."

"Me too," he gritted out. "What in hell are you dong here? No, how the hell are you here?"

"It's a long story," Belle began. "We came from a place called Storybrooke, Maine."

Bae arched an eyebrow. "You live in Maine?" he gaped again at his father. "But last time I saw you we were in the forest . . .does she know?"

"Belle knows everything. She also comes from our realm. We got here from a curse— "

"Figures," his son snorted. "You know what? I changed my mind. I don't want to hear any more. Because no reason you give me could ever make me feel like forgiving you for what you've done!" Bae's eyes flashed. "Get out!"

"Bae . . .Bae . . .please let me explain . . ." Rumple pleaded, feeling his heart shatter. He had known the boy would be angry, would not want to see him at first, but this coldness . . .it made him feel as if he had his heart ripped out.

"No! Just get out!" his son ordered hoarsely. He had to get rid of them.

"If you would listen to me," he tried again desperately. "I need to tell you—"

"I don't care!" Bae snapped. "You abandoned me! You broke your deal with me!"

Rumple opened his mouth to speak again, determined not to leave without at least explaining why he had broken his deal, when Belle beat him to it.

"Baelfire, I understand you're angry with your father, but why don't you quit acting like a spoiled little boy and discuss this rationally like an adult? Or do you just look like one and act like the fourteen-year-old you were when you fell through that portal?"

Bae gaped at her. She looked at most to be ten years his senior and here she was lecturing him like—like—well . . .an elder sister or a mother! He opened his mouth to blast her too with his temper, when he realized suddenly that he was behaving rather like an overwrought teenager, and not even allowing a real conversation to take place.

That was not the way he usually behaved. And then he recalled something his wife had said once, long ago when she had gazed into the waters of Loch Eala. You lost someone very dear to you once . . .but the fault was not your own or his own . . .but someday you shall see him again . . .and learn the truth.

He shut his eyes. Sorcha, Sorcha. You always did see clearly.

A part of him wanted to just throw the two out. After all why did he need to hear his father's explanation after all these years? He knew what had happened at that portal. Or did he? He shook his head. All of his instincts were urging him to get his papa out of here, before it was too late.

Yet his heart was not cooperating. His heart . . .ah his heart was crumbling from looking at the man he had spent part of his life hating and at the same time longing for him because he loved him.

Belle could see him softening, and said, "Bae . . .may I call you that? Rumple always has. You know . . .he never stopped trying to find a way to get to you. Never. He spent his life, several lifetimes actually, trying to find a way to get you back, to undo what happened . . .and if he did all of that, why would he do so unless he never meant to let you go? If he really abandoned you, as you think, why would he care about finding you again? He even lit a candle on your birthday for remembrance."

"You did?" Bae was stunned. "But . . .the dagger, you only cared for power . . ."

"No. That's not true. I loved you, Bae. I took the dagger curse to save you. And I would have kept my promise but . . .it prevented me from doing so," Rumple explained.

Bae frowned. "How do I know that's the truth?" But he did know. His father was not lying, not twisting the truth.

And he couldn't bear to think he had spent his life hating a man who had never been what he had thought.

"Because why would I come all this way, across worlds, without my magic, if I just was going to lie to you?"

He groped for the shards of his anger which had been the thing that had sustained him for all those lonely nights on Neverland and before he had met Sorcha in Scotland. The anger that had fueled his will to survive. "You lied to everyone back then!" he snapped, unwilling to let it go.

"No. I didn't. I tried as much as I could to keep to every deal I made."

"You tricked people," Bae insisted.

"No, they tricked themselves!" Rumple argued. "How many times did I say all magic comes with a price? Nothing is for free. Make sure this is what you want. Thousands of times. And nine times out of ten, people ignored my warnings, believing they knew best . . .and they made deals they couldn't or wouldn't keep. They screwed themselves over, Bae. There was only one deal I ever broke in my life, and that was yours. And I have spent my entire life regretting it," he declared passionately. "I know I'm a monster under the dagger curse, no one knows that better, but I never intended to let you fall through that portal alone. I couldn't go through it—because the dagger compelled me to remain, and since I am the dagger's servant, dearie, I couldn't refuse. Only by being cursed by a stronger magic is how I am here, because in this realm the laws are different, magic functions—when it does at all—differently and I can bend the rules of the compulsion a wee bit and come to find you."

"I don't want to hear this!" Bae cried angrily. His heart was now being crushed by guilt and he couldn't afford it. He couldn't risk having these two here when—"Okay, you've told me you couldn't leave or whatever, that doesn't change the fact that I spent half my life alone without my family." He knew that was a low blow, but he wanted to make his papa angry enough to leave.

Rumple just looked at him sorrowfully, his shoulders hunched.

It was Belle who snarled at him, "That wasn't his fault! You were the one who decided to believe the Blue Fairy's story and take the bean. You thought you could fix everything by traveling to this world and insisted on making that deal with your father. You chose to do so without finding out all the facts. Therefore you bear some of the blame on your shoulders too. You never should have trusted Blue, because she lied to you! She must have known Rumple couldn't go through the portal with you, she has always been his enemy! Don't you see, she wanted you removed from him, for whatever twisted self-righteous reason she may have had—and she gave you the means to do it and she lied to you. Just as she lied to others about their children."

"What others?"

"You aren't the first child to come here. There were two others we know about, but that's neither here nor there. My point is—isn't it time you stopped playing the blame game? I know Rumple made a mistake by promising you something he never could keep, but so did you. And holding onto that resentment for all these years isn't healthy. It festers and poisons you. Can you honestly sit there and tell me that a part of you—even in the tiniest measure—isn't happy to see the man you lost all those years ago?"

Bae flinched. For Belle's words pierced through the cloud of resentment and anger like swift swords. He sighed. "No. I can't." He bit his lip. "Look, we can discuss this some other time—"

Rumple's eyes narrowed. "Baelfire, what are you hiding from me? Why do you want us to leave so badly?"

Before his son could open his mouth to answer, the apartment door opened and shut, and a cheery voice called, "Hey, Dad, I'm home! Got anything to eat or did you forget to eat again cause you were painting?"

No! No! No! Bae thought desperately, but it was too late.

Suddenly a girl wearing a purple jacket and jeans with a green top appeared in the studio doorway, "Da-ad . . .we're not in Scotland anymore, and you can't live off air remember? Oh!" Her jaw dropped as she took in the two people standing next to her father. "Whoa! It's the man from my Dream! He came here just like I said!"

Bae's jaw hit the floor. "What Dream?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "The one I tried to tell you about last week but you were too busy watching the Yankees game."

"Bae . . . is this . . .?" Rumple almost staggered into the wall as he turned to face a girl of about nine, with a similar shade of light brown hair though hers had a silvery streak in it, huge amber eyes, and his own face as a child staring back at him.

She held out a hand to him. "Hi. I'm Rhiannon Spinner." Then she did a doubletake as well, as she looked at the man before her and realized she was looking at herself as an adult. "You look like . . .me. Are we related?"

"Hello, dearie." Rumple took her hand in his, and felt an instant feeling of belonging flow through him. Then he said softly, "My name is Mr. Gold—"

"Rumplestiltskin," Belle added.

"And he's your grandfather," Bae finished.

A/N: so what did you think of that little revelation? More will be revealed soon about everything.

The scene in the airport with the children was done because Bobby Carlyle (Rumple)'s children were actually in the episode Manhattan when he was on line in the airport so I wanted to put that in here somehow. I also wanted to have that scene with the idiot guy and have Belle handle him quite differently than Emma did.