Author's Note: So I am an enormous fan of the theory that Rumpelstiltskin's son is Henry's father; this fanfiction was inspired/influenced by that theory.

Also, I recently did a rewatch of OUAT and realized that my plot of Rumpelstiltskin's mother dying is not at all canonical. Whoops.

The boy is two weeks old.

Regina's excitement floods every movement and facial expression; it is the first time he has ever seen her truly happy. She is ecstatic as she talks over the cradle, over the child he has not yet seen. He is not impatient, only a little enthusiastic for her rush of words to end. Her sentences are a quick melee of phrases he only just catches; "closed adoption" is the only thing he's certain he has understood.

When she finally steps away from the crib for him to admire her new child, he's a little bored with it all, and plans on only glancing before saying his goodbye; after all, he has quite a lot of work to do today. But he freezes as he looks upon the boy — Henry, Regina reminds him eagerly. For the brown tuffs of hair and pink cheeks and greenish eyes remind him forcibly of another child.

The sunlight is filtered through the dirty windows and falls on the earthen floor, giving enough light for him to just make out the babe. His mother's arms are tight around him as she holds him to her breast; Rumpelstiltskin's fingers tremble as he reaches to touch the little forehead, pale and almost gleaming in the small amount of light they have. They have named him Baelfire after her father.

After a few minutes of feeding, the babe turns away from his mother and opens his eyes: green and brown, lovely. Rumpelstiltskin finds it to be the most beautiful color in the world.

"Isn't he just so sweet?" Regina's soft, breathless voice forces him from the warm, cramped cabin in his memory; not roughly, she slips past him to take her son in her arms. The child smiles and turns against her chest.

Mr. Gold decides he must leave, immediately.

The boy is five years old.

Regina calls him for a meeting — well, not so much a meeting, but a get-together, because she feels they haven't talked in a while. He meets her on a bench that sits on the outskirts of the little park in town. Henry plays tentatively with the plush animals he brought with him.

The sun is setting and the cabin is stuffy with midsummer's heat. His wife naps, consumed with fever, and he watches her from across the room. Bae distracts him for an instant — sensing his father's stress, he has taken the toys his mother made for him and placed them on his father's knee. He says in a clear voice, "Fun!" while he picks one back up and makes it jump across Rumpelstiltskin's leg. This makes his father smile for the briefest of seconds, and father allows himself to play with son, mother's heavy breathing rhythmic in the background.

Regina talks endlessly of Henry's development: he's becoming a very smart boy, a quick and natural reader. He has an affinity for spelling but problems with math. She is preparing him for kindergarten and hopes he will be more advanced than all of his classmates. The combination of love and pride in her expression makes Mr. Gold sick, and frequently he must look at the space in-between mother and son.

The boy is six years old.

He sleeps on Regina's lap as she and Mr. Gold drink deep red wine and speak of better days. One hand strokes her son's hair unconsciously as she talks, drawling on about missing her castle, her luxurious grounds; how she is stuck in a house the size of a crate. How sometimes she wishes she hadn't had him create the curse at all if she could just perform a little magic once more. This she says with a laugh that comes from deep in her throat; he notices that her grip on her son becomes a little tighter, more possessive, and he knows she would do it all over again, give up her wealth and power and magic, just to have her boy.

The funeral has been over for a few hours and Bae refuses to move from her spot of the bed. Occasionally Rumpelstiltskin can hear him sniff the sheets, the pillows, to smell her scent again. He wishes he could comfort his son, but he knows the only thing that would comfort him would be his mother's arms, the one thing he cannot provide. He feels useless as he watches his son, hears his son weep into his mother's pillow, and Rumpelstiltskin cannot stop the tears that fall from his eyes as well. Bae sleeps curled up in his arms that night, and for the week's nights thereafter.

It takes all of his strength not to reach out and feel the boy's hair as Regina does; he knows with complete certainty that the texture would be the same as his own, as his son's. But he only grips his wineglass tighter, and focuses on Regina's words with a little more effort.

The boy is ten years old.

It's nearing midnight and he walks past the mansion, as is his habit during periods of insomnia. The old yellow Beetle in front of the home startles him, forces him to stop. A blonde woman comes out of the driver's seat; he cannot see her face or make out her words, but she is young and her tone is decisive, firm, a little frustrated, a little nervous. The boy emerges from the passenger's side. The light from the house and from a nearby streetlamp falls on his face, and he is happy — happier than he has been in a long time. Mr. Gold can't stop the smile that eases its way onto his face.

Bae's grin is contagious as he runs onto the yard, soaking in the first sunlight after the long and heavy rains. It's still cold and damp, but the sun is too precious to miss. Rumpelstiltskin watches him, amused, from the doorway. His son runs in circles, his eyes closed and face upturned. Lovely, silky brown hair flops and flies in the occasional wind, and for a few moments, Rumpelstiltskin can see his wife's face in his son's. But those moments end and he is once more admiring his beloved boy.

Bae stops his running and is out of breath; his eyes open and he haunches over his knees as he takes a break. He notices his father's gaze, and grins as he holds out a hand, and waves him over in an excited gesture. Rumpelstiltskin cannot help but join, shivering in the early spring sunlight.

The two disappear behind the giant hedges as they approach Regina's door, and Mr. Gold walks away, remembering then that he must collect on Ruby and Granny's rent. On the walk over, he ponders how Regina will react to the blonde. Each scenario makes him grin.