Never let me go

August huffed as he tried to roll out of the bed in his rented room. Almost there he thought. He lay on his side for a moment and listened to the silence that surrounded him. The sun had yet to rise in this sleepy town, it was still quite early for most of the residents of Storybrooke and most had yet to wake, but he knew at this rate he needed all the time he could get.

He had to see him once more, no matter the pain. 28 years was too long to be away from the father that had given him life.

He smiled at the red and pink flowered design on the pillow, just like a woman to decorate with flowers everywhere. Maybe if he had a mother he would understand why, but he never needed one. Geppetto was the perfect parent; there was no need for another.

Slowly August tipped his legs one at a time over the side of the still made bed; he didn't have the energy to unmake it anymore and crawl under the soft covers. He also had not changed out of his cloths, he no longer had the dexterity to remove his gloves, untie his boots, or unzip his jacket. Such simple tasks were now beyond his ability. He hadn't been able to sleep most nights, not sense he last spoke to Henry about giving up on Operation Cobra. His condition seemed to have gotten rapidly worse.

The blue fairy's warning still rang in his head, as long as he remains brave, true and unselfish, he will always be a real boy… or man. He had been anything but, when he left Emma it was for himself, he'd lied to Mr. Gold about being his son and when he coward away on some island he was anything but brave. It was a lot to ask of him, to watch after a new born, to guide her to some kind of destiny. It was understandable why she reacted the way she did, did he not do the same thing in a sense?

He clenched his teeth as he pushed himself up and stood. He'd never have to do this again, there wasn't going to be a tomorrow. His entire right leg up to his hip was now completely made of wood, as well as his left foot and ankle, and left arm from fingers to shoulder. Only recently was his right hand starting to turn to wood as well. Unlike when he was young he could no longer move his fingers or any other joint, because this world had no magic, this regression would kill him.

Slowly and on unstable legs August stepped toward the door. How would he make it through the day he wondered, he was little more than a cripple, what help could he offer his father. It didn't matter; step by step he made his way down stairs and through the town to be with his father one last time.

He was only a few shops away from where his father was when Emma ran to him. Her face looked pale and tired. Her eyes were red from crying.

"August" she called. "I need your help; Henry in some kind of coma, the doctor can't wake him!"

"Whoa, what happened to Henry?" His breath was labored.

"Regina, she gave me this apple turnover, Henry ate in and just fell down. He won't wake up and they don't know what's wrong with him. I didn't know who else to turn to."

"Apple?" August thought for a moment, could it be, the apple that put Snow White in a deep sleep was brought to Storybrooke?

"Is this part of the curse? What do I have to do to break it? How do I help him?" She begged.

Did he catch that right, does she believe now? He smiled to himself, they were saved. But the question remained what did she have to do to break the curse?

"Emma, listen to me. Henry must have eaten the poisoned apple. Don't worry about the curse right now; he can't survive in this world like he could in ours. All you need to worry about is waking him up right now or he'll die. This world doesn't mix well with magic."

"What do I have to do?"

"Show him you love him, true love's kiss breaks any curse. But you have to truly believe it, no second guessing it." August bent over in pain, he could feel his right forearm start to tighten as it grew cold, God, everything felt cold.

"Are you alright?" Emma asked, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry about me, you have to save Henry or you'll lose him forever." August said through clenched teeth. "Now, go! Go!"

Emma ran off toward the hospital without looking back.

August continued his slow journey to the clock repairer's shop. It didn't matter if Emma broke the curse, he didn't have enough time, he only hoped that she could save her boy in time, he was a good kid. Henry was what a child should be like, honest even though it wasn't easy. His mother must have thought he was crazy when he told her they were story book characters, but he never stopped trying, even in the face of death. He was never the perfect child and he regretted that his entire adult life.

As August stumbled into the small shop he knocked over a toolbox sending the delicate clock tools crashing to the ground. He grimaced in pain as a bolt of lightning ran up his arm as he tried to catch it. He clutched his arm hoping the pain would subside.

"Are you ok my boy?" A feeling of calm filled him upon hearing the old man's voice, Papa he thought. August forced a smile.

"Yeah, just a bit stiff this morning." He said looking at the clock maker, but the old man knew better.

"Here, sit." He looked worried, and he had every right to be.

"Thanks" August said as he slowly slid into the chair, his right leg fully extended in front of him.

The day quickly went by, as the men talked while Geppetto or Marco as he's called in this world worked on making a new clock for the mayor's office. It was pointy and cold looking; both men agreed it matched the mayor's personality. They laughed

August's laugh quickly turned into a cough which he couldn't control. His hand shook as he looked at the blood which had appeared on his glove, this was it. He stood up; he couldn't stay here any longer. It would be cruel to burden the old man by dying in his workshop.

Marco set down his tools and turned toward August. "Here let me walk you to your room."

"You don't have to worry…"

Marco cut him off, "nonsense, I always look after my best employee."

Just as slowly as he walked to the shop, the two men returned to Granny's. August looked at the flight stairs; he didn't know how he would make it up them.

"Come now, one foot at a time." Marco encouraged him. August marveled at his father's intuition, oh how he missed him for the past 28 years. He'd given up so much to save him and he could never return the favor.

Together the two climbed to the top of the stairs stopping several times allowing August to rest.

"Thank you" August said panting as they reached his room.

"Here I will help you to bed." Over the past few days the old clock maker had started to grow fond of the man he barely knew. Creating a relationship was effortless; it was as if they had known each other for years.

August tried to protest but lacked the energy, besides he was happy to have his father caring for him again.

"We must get you comfortable." Marco started to remove one of the gloves.

"No" August breathed, his fear rising, would he see what he was becoming? Like Henry could he see the wood his body was becoming? Or in the haze of the curse could he not see what was really happening to him like Emma.

"There, that must feel better; it's much too hot for these." He removed the other glove without notice. The curse must not allow him to see anything not of this world. The old man pulled back the quilt and sheets. "Here, sit."

August's boots and jacket came off next; he started to feel a bit more relaxed. With some help he swung his legs into the bed and settled in. To his surprise the old man pulled up a chair next to his side and sat. An odd thought flashed through his mind, he was going to die on a bed covered in red and pink roses, not the manliest way to go.

"You don't have to stay; I know you have a lot of work."

"None that can't wait," the old man smiled.

August looked at him for a moment, not wanting to admit he was dying and he failed him, failed Emma, and failed his whole world. He would never see this curse broken, but it didn't matter, he was happy in this moment.

"I'm sick." August said flatly, "my body is slowly shutting down, I don't have much time."

"Oh my boy you should have told me, you should have been in a hospital instead of helping me." Marco reached for August's hand; he tried to conceal his shock. "Your hands are like ice."

"I couldn't think of any other place I'd rather be than helping you. You remind me so much of my father, I can't describe how much I've truly enjoyed talking with you." He paused to catch his breath.

"I'm sure he'd be proud of you, no matter what you did in the past."

"This is all my fault, I caused my own mess, I've caused a mess for others too. I had so many people counting on me and I let them all down."

"Don't let it trouble you." A tear came to the old man's eye. "Everyone has regrets."

"I wasn't there for her, I've cause so much pain." August closed his eyes. His breath was becoming increasingly ragged and labored.

Marco looked out the window and watched the sunset for a moment as he thought. "Your responsibility sounds like a very great one, maybe it was too much to ask of any person to have so many people counting on them. By no means should one task weigh so heavily on a life that it should define them."

August gasped for air, he could feel his body grow cold as his heart began to race. Through wide eyes that looked for guidance he locked eyes with his father. Marco held on to the man's hand as though he were holding on to his very soul. Though he'd only knew the man for a few days, his heart felt as though it were losing something important.

Something clicked in the old man's head as he came out of the haze he was in; he looked over the man before him. He recognized those eyes looking back at him; that face, thought it looked older and haggard, he knew this man. Nothing else looked familiar, not the room or the bed, but the man lying before him was his son, of that he had no doubt.

August screamed in pain and clutched the old man's hand even tighter. He closed his eyes and turned his head away from the old man, he didn't want him to see. Let it be over soon he begged, he didn't want his father to see this.

"Pinocchio!" Geppetto called.

Shame filled August's heart, shame for what he had done, or rather failed to do, and now his father would see and know his shame. Through the pain August cried, but a loving hand held his face.

He looked at his father, he also had tears falling down his face as Geppetto looked at the hand he held. It was made of wood; he threw back the covers and lifted his shirt. Before his eyes his son was turning back in to a wood puppet. "No please no, Pinocchio."

"Emma," he whispered before his lungs turned into wood, followed by his heart. Slowly he began to relax and close his eyes.

"No please my boy." Geppetto cried, he had lost his son again. The fairy, she might be able to help, but here was she? He didn't even know where he was. As the realization set in that he wouldn't be able to save his boy this time, he wrapped his arms around the life sized puppet and wept. It had been so long sense he'd held a puppet, he forgot how light they were compared to a human body. It never should have felt this moment again.

"I love you Pinocchio," he whispered into the stiff puppet's ear. "You did good my boy, I am so proud of you."

For a moment everything was still and Geppetto just held his son. He'd tried to had to prevent this but it happened anyway, and it hurt his heart. there was no reason to go on, to leave this room, so he stayed and mourned his loss.

the sky outside had darkened, even though the sun had yet to set, unbeknownst to Geppetto, a battle was waging outside, and good was winning. Two worlds began to collide as magic returned to the world that had long sense lost it. Like a rouge spirit it ran through the town.

Slowly, like a trickling stream that turns into a powerful river, a flow of energy entered and moved through the room like the wind and wrapped itself around the wooden puppet. Slowly Geppetto could feel warmth returning to the puppet. The light wood became heavy and soft.

With a gasp of air the man began to awaken, flesh took over what was once wood and blood began to pump through his veins. Geppetto pulled back and looked at his son, he was real again.

"Papa" he said in shock, he didn't understand what just happened without magic he couldn't have returned to normal, unless, the curse was weakening. "Emma"

He began to climb out of the bed, but stumbled, he was still a little stiff. "I've got to help her."

Geppetto helped him to his feet as the two men ran outside, he would help Emma defeat the evil queen, no more running, no more hiding.

"Geppetto" a familiar voice called from the street. Seeing the confused look on the men's faces he added. "It's me, Jiminy. What's happening?"

"Emma's doing it, she's breaking the curse." August looked up, the sky had darkened and a violent wind whipped around them. He smiled, "we're going home."

A/N: I thought it would be nice for Geppetto and Pinocchio to have a moment together after the scene where August tells Henry that he just wants to be with his father before he dies. I hope this Sunday (5/13) has a happy ending for August. Let me know what you think, I stayed up til 2 am writing this I feel the ending was a bit rushed but the scene I really wanted to focus on was August's 'death'.