lost son

Upon waking up, Belle realized just how late she slept into the morning which was quite unusual for her, but given the events of last night, rest was certainly needed. Her body was physically exhausted, but in the best way possible, thanks to the man she went home with. One night stands were not a thing for Belle, but last night? Last night was…different. And it wasn’t even a one night stand for her because what they had was more than just physical. There was definitely something chemical between them and it sparked after only minutes of conversation. Granted they did have a few drinks before heading to his place, but they were pretty sober and coherent during everything that had taken place. They had formed quite the connection during their few hours together and Belle found herself thinking about all that had happened.

There was just so much that Belle found incredibly attractive about this man. He had this mysterious and almost dark aura about him that drew her in almost immediately and he seemed just as drawn to her after she began speaking with him. Of course the attraction wasn’t just physical, but it was also intellectual. He was an intelligent, knowledgeable man and Belle appreciated that about him and what made the connection even stronger was that he loved books just as she did. That was without a doubt one way into Belle’s heart and she knew he wasn’t faking it either because some of the books he spoke of, Belle had read, too, and he sounded so truthful and passionate speaking of them. It was rare she found any man that loved books as much as she did and certainly not around her age. Which, by the way, he was older than her. Much older, but that didn’t bother Belle one bit. Quite the opposite, really, and it seemed her young age - young, but over twenty-one - didn’t bother him either. Because they still conversed, they laughed, they drank and, needless to say, she went home with him to talk some more before it turned into a night full of mind-blowing sex. 

Thus her reason for being exhausted the next morning. He had woken up before her and offered to make some breakfast, but she politely, and sadly, denied his offer stating she needed to get back. She kissed him one last time, and not so subtly slipped him a piece of paper with her phone number on it before she left the house and came home. She unlocked the door and very quietly snuck in, hoping Neal was still asleep, but then she hears his voice and nearly jumps out of her heels. “Do you have to scare me like that!?” Belle asked with a heavy breath as she shut the door and locked it behind her, her cheeks turning bright red at his words. Her lips curled into a bit of a bashful smile while rolling her eyes. “…It wasn’t planned.” She responded, not denying the fact that things did happen last night. “It just…happened. You know I’m not that type of girl, Neal, but…god it was amazing. He was amazing.” She murmured, her voice holding an awed tone as the thought about him and their whole night together. 

‘ That type ‘ of girl didn’t necessarily have to be a bad type, and he knew Belle knew that, so he didn’t say it, but would have if she used is as an excuse for why she’d been gone all night. There were no excuses, though. Well, she wasn’t trying to pretend it didn’t happen, just that it didn’t happen in any insidious way – for which Neal was happy, because if Belle was regretting her actions he might have to go beat some guy up for talking her into something, and then he’d be subjected to a ‘ I can take care of myself ‘ speech. He knew that Belle was perfectly capable, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still offer whatever muscles he had. Not that they were a lot, so it would be best if she could maybe not hook up with a fitness instructor or something.

Olivia nervously moved a strand of hair behind her ear as she considered his question. “It’s colder than Phoenix. And a lot smaller but I like it. I’m happy to be here, ya know? It’s a lot more welcoming than any home I’ve been in before getting here. I don’t feel like much of a burden.” she adds softly. 

The kitchen is empty when Neal wakes up. Groggily, he pulls at his t-shirt, which has gotten twisted overnight, and stumbles towards the fridge. The cool air helps him return to the land of the living. He pulls out a juice container, and only while he’s chugs the orange juice does he realize that Belle isn’t here to scold at him for doing so. Frowning, he shuffles towards her room, but the door is open and she’s not in there. On her bed, several items of clothing are strewn about, like in those typical teenage movies, except they haven’t been teenagers for a while. Frown deepening, he takes a look at the clock. 10 a.m. He rubs his eyes.

They’re supposed to go to lunch together at 1 p.m., and he needs her more than ever, because his dad is coming around, too. He’d love to get along easily with his dad, but unfortunately they’re rarely 100% civil when they’re alone, and given that he’s still mucking around in low-end jobs and figuring out what to do with his life, he thinks it’s better to have a buffer. It’s Belle’s loss that she happens to be that buffer today.

Olivia looked up when she heard her father speaking to her. Her father? What should she be calling him? She still struggled with what she should call Emma. She hated not knowing what to do or say but she was willing to try. “Uh yeah. I’m fine. You? I mean are you okay?” her hands clutched together in her lap as she looked to him.

a      soft      hum  falls  from  parted  lips ,    olive  hues      pointedly      avoiding  his  gaze ,    terrified  of  what  she  might  reveal  were  she  to  look  him  in  the  eyes .        there  was  once  a  time  she  had  shared  that  dream  with  him ,    &      were  she  weak  enough  in  that  moment ,    she  would  want  to  share  that  dream  again .

but  there  was      HENRY      now ,    &      she  would  put  him  before  herself  a  million  times  over      &       then  some .        &      while  neal  had  owned  up  to  the  mistake  that  had  been  made ,    the  trust  she  had  in  him  was  undeniably      shattered .        soft  hum  turns  into  a  heavy  sigh ,    &      she  finally  settles  her  gaze  on  him ,        ❛     no  one’s  stopping  you ,    neal .     ❜

The peace between them is fragile. Neal feels as though he can barely breathe. Unfortunately, the nerves that makes his legs bounce and his mouth dry also make him say incredibly stupid things, only realizing it after the fact. It’s true, he does wish everything could be like it used to, but it’s not in good taste to express it. Because nothing is like it used to be, and it’s his own fault.

A beat of silence. The slightest raise of his eyebrows is the only reaction the taunt gets from Spock. It is a rhetorical question, intended to draw a response from him no doubt, yet he feels inclined to answer it none the less. A comeback, Dr McCoy would call it, or something of the sort. “I am only of moderate fame within Starfleet, however my full name- S'chn T'gai Spock- cannot be correctly pronounced by humans. As I am the only one of my name aboard the ship, and I do not wish to have my full name incorrectly pronounced, I am simply known as Spock.” Another beat, the slightest glint in his eyes. Deep down in the burried parts of himself, his human side is jumping for joy. “However, as I have already noted, it would be more appropriate for you to refer to me as Commander Spock.” 

A picture of Marian “Mary” Hawke, aged 17: jutting bones, bloody knuckles, a scar on her nose, and a leather jacket. She has the kind of look that’s been called faux punk a couple of times, but not for very long, and the ones saying it always ended up regretting it after a fist to their face. There’s nothing faux about Hawke, thank you very much. Right now she can be spotted smoking a cigarette in her foster father’s garden and wondering if it’s worth the effort of running away this time. It wouldn’t be the first time, by her count she’s run away from about six foster families in the past, and driven at least as many to tears. She’s what the social workers like to call a problem child. Child her ass. And they’re the ones with the problems, anyway. They can point a finger at her and say behavioural issues all they want, she calls it common sense. 

There is a good thing about this one’s house, mind, the old geezer has a good tree for thinking in out the back. It’s a big old thing (the tree, that is) an oak she thinks. She’s hidden away in the higher branches, glaring out at the neighbouring garden. Smoking in a dry tree probably isn’t the best plan she’s ever had, but whatever, at least she’d go out in a blaze of glory. The main advantage of running away is of course not having to answer this old shitbag, or go to counselling, but the disadvantage is the loss of three square meals a day (plus snacks) and a warm shower. Maybe she can crash on Varric’s couch again, his parents are never around anyway. 

Footsteps below the tree make her jump until she realises it’s Neal, the other unlucky sod who’s stuck here, and not the old guy. Not that she’s afraid of the old dude, but he has the kind of face that makes shouting at him seem meaner than it is. “Sup?” she calls down, mostly just to let him know that he’s up here in case he’s thinking of pissing against the tree, or wanking off, or whatever it is teenage boys do these days. Then because she’s said something she decides she probably better say some more. “I think I’m gunna bounce in a couple’v days, how about you?” 

Neal’s got as many parental issues as the next kid over in the system. Mom left when he was six, dad abandoned him by fourteen, dad killed his mom, father figure lied about his reason for befriending him because father figure wanted revenge on dad for killing mom because mom was father figure’s lover ... okay, maybe Neal has a bit more exotic parental issues, but aside from the fact that murder is involved and that it all took place in a realm with magic, he’s really not that different from the other kids in the system.

So like the other kids, he’s about had it with the whole ‘ bouncing around until we’re finally old enough to run away and not be caught ever again ‘ concept. That’s the attitude he walks into this new home with, anyways, but it’s been less than a week and he can already feel himself slipping back into his Baelfire habits of looking for the best in people. Yuck. He’s gotta force himself out of that mindset if he wants to survive this land. The Reul Ghorm should’ve been more precise about what this land would entail. Of course, he would’ve gone anyway because home was not a viable option. He would’ve sacrificed any personal comfort to get away from the Dark One.

Anyway, the guy here is really nice. Scarily nice, actually. Neal stole a couple of vintage pocket watches and a wad of cash, but when Az found out, all he did was thank Neal for keeping an eye on them, and then he’d used a tone of voice Neal hadn’t heard since before the curse of the Dark One, and Neal wanted to cry.

That’s why Neal has gone outside. He needs a moment away from all of that sweetness to get his head in order. He can’t just meet one nice father figure and become Baelfire again. After Hook, that should never be an option again. With a bit of a sulk, he leans against the tree.

“I am Commander Spock of the Starship Enterprise, and you are Neal Cassidy.”  it is not a question and his tone is level, firm. He regards the other man with a steely, unflinching gaze and a face which, to those who don’t know him, seems completely devoid of any emotion. The Enterprise is a research vessel, not a police ship, but they are duty bound to hold any criminals they come across until they can be delivered to Starfleet. At their current pace, they will reach the closest base in 56.73 hours. After regarding the prisoner for a moment or two in complete silence he speaks again. “In accordance with Starfleet regulations you are under arrest and will be delivered to the nearest Federation base for trial. In the mean time you will retain full prisoner rights under the law of the United Federation of Planets.” a pause. “Do you require any clarification?” 

It wasn’t difficult to find out that someone had entered the castle, what with how loud the large doors were when being opened. It echoed through a good portion of the house, at least on the first floor, and given that the kitchen wasn’t far at all, Belle heard the noise almost immediately. Perhaps Rumple had returned from his journey earlier than expected, but Belle had the feeling that it wasn’t him. He told her he would be away for a good portion of the day so unless something happened that ended his journey early, that wasn’t him. She set the washcloth down onto the counter next to the tea kettle she had been cleaning and made her way out of the kitchen and into the large entry hall.

What she found, or rather whom she found, surprised Belle greatly. A child. A small boy. And the moment he saw Belle, he announced his reason for coming here, to of course speak with Rumplestiltskin, and though Belle heard his request, she paid more attention to the condition the young boy was in. He was completely drenched and shivering. How long had he been out there in the freezing rain!? Realizing she was staring, Belle shook her head. “I’m sorry, but uh, he isn’t here at the moment.” She hated having to tell him that since he had clearly been through quite a bit just to get here to see The Dark One. “He isn’t due to be back for a few hours, but please come in. I can tell you’re freezing and I have a fire going.” She gestured to the room nearby, the door partially closed, but a light shining from within. It was one of the study’s here in the castle and though welcoming a stranger into the castle wouldn’t exactly go well with Rumple, she wasn’t going to turn a child away. 

“I was just about to make some tea if you’d like to wait? There’s also a blanket on the chair, there.” She told the boy as she opened the door, gaze moving back to him and offering him a warm smile. She was curious as to why on Earth a child was requesting to speak with the Dark One, but given the condition he was in and the way he asked immediately upon seeing Belle told her it must be of great importance. 

It should not have surprised him that his papa might employ someone. Almost as soon as his papa was able to spin straw into gold and made a fortune, they took on Honora. Correction: his papa hired a maid, but after an uncomfortable conversation she was fired ( Baelfire was not present when it happened, and after Honora’s passing he questioned whether their first maid was fired or otherwise disposed ), and the mute Honora seemed a perfect fit. Bae, of course, wasn’t asked for his opinion. It didn’t occur to him that the woman might not be an employee, because if she were not working for Rumplestiltskin, why would she be here? No one sought out Bae’s papa for his company. Even before he became the Dark One, it was just him and Bae.

Wrapping his arms around himself, he followed the woman into the study. She seemed nice. Perhaps before the portal incident he would have laid out his entire life in front of her. He had been so trusting. Hook and Pan solved that problem. Naivety was no longer something he should be associated with. Still, he was not cold: he smiled a crooked smile, and headed for the chair she suggested for him. The blanket made for a much more comfortable shield against cold, and the fireplace was close.

It felt as though he was immersed in a cave. It was nice. He didn’t have to be so brave. He knew he would have to face his papa and be strong, but for now perhaps he could just breathe. “I think I’d like tea,” he responded as the ice around the tips of his hair started melting and dripping onto the blanket. The tea had been pleasant at the Darling home. He had missed it. “Thank you for treating me well.” The words tumbled out from his half-frozen lips, and as soon as they registered, he felt something wet press against the bottom his eyes. He wanted to cry. But he took a deep breath and held it in.