Collide

Writer note: This idea has been swimming in my head since last April. I've attempted to write it a few times, but nothing felt right, but I think I finally found my start. Yay!

He heard her name, just her name and his whole lonely little world came crashing about his feet. Emma's name was guarantee to restore his true memory, though at the time as the magical prison held him captive, he never imagined how incredible and painful the moment would be to have his former and new life collide.

The curse he created worked better than he ever perceived. He created it specifically to find his son. Having to take every single living being with him and wait 28 years for the return of his true self was only a minor hiccup in the long run. The curse was supposed to bring him to the world to find his boy, but it did more than just that – it found Baelfire as well.

Gold stride along the sidewalk, cane purposefully tapping on the concrete. His eyes were forward, focused on his goal, the only goal he lived for. He arrived at the floral shop blocking the glass door, heart pounding so hard in his chest it could have been visible to anyone. He grabbed for the knob, in-taking a calming breath, though it did nothing to settle his nerves.

It was the sight of her that made every muscle in his body forgot how to work. He'd thought her dead, a tragic death filled with torture and no return. He'd found her grave, only her first name engraved on the tiny stone in a lonesome cemetery on the outskirts of her father's land. It was a horrid lie concocted by a queen whose heart was twisted and black. He knew now of the falsity, the recalling of his fake memories as his former self came to be.

Her standing before his eyes, alive and functioning was nearly enough to bring him to his knees. Some aspects of the curse didn't make sense, even to him and he wondered if it was Regina's part in the whole mess that caused all of this to happen. But in the here and now, he didn't care because she was alive and tangible and he needed to touch her just to be sure she wasn't a dream.

"Mr. Gold" her voice rang in his cloudy mind, snapping him back into the waking moment. "How may I help you?"

"Good day, Ms. French." He couldn't take his eyes off her, yearning and desperation hidden behind an intense gaze. "I have a proposition for you" he replied smooth as a river stone, though his insides were trembling.

Isabelle stared at him, curiosity mixed with suspicion on her pretty features. "This isn't about the rent, is it?"

Gold flinched inward. Of course, she'd automatically assume he'd stop by for that. That was the only reason he ever visited Moe French's quaint flower shop. Baring his teeth, he wasn't sure whether to growl or grin. "No, this is about your son." And it sounded wonderfully painful in his throat. Bae was his son, and he ached to pull him close and fiercely never let go. But out of every person in this whole forsaken town, Bae was with his beloved, being raised in love and reared in kindness by the only woman who ever captured his heart.

Isabelle's lips scowled. "Did he toilet paper your house?" she asked, planting hands upon her hips in the usual mom-fashion that struck Gold with a new spark of admiration for her.

He stared bemused for a beat then shook his head. "No, he did none the sort. I came to offer your boy a job."

"A job?" Her mouth fell open and eyes narrowed as Isabelle maneuvered around the counter to stand before him, a defensive shield suddenly about her. "Why do want to offer my son a job?"

Gold glanced to the side, tapping his cane once. He had to appear to be his grandeur self, even still. "I'm in need of a strong back and young knees, Ms. French. Winters in Storybrooke are seeping into my bones a little harder each year."

She eyed him, understanding on her face but also searching. "Out of all the young men in this town, why my son?"

Gold licked his lips, thinking of an explanation. His jumbled mind had mustered an excuse for his visit to the floral shop, but he was still clearing cobwebs. "I can see that he is a good boy. He's always been polite when I've come across him, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind making some extra money."

Isabelle nodded. "I'm okay with this, but only if Bailey wants the job and if he is treated fairly."

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that." Gold's mind screamed with the urge to reassure her over and over again that he'd never hurt her or his son again.

"At least you don't have to wait for an answer" Isabelle said, and Gold turned to see what had caught attention.

There he was, entering the shop, backpack hanging off one shoulder. He was taller, eye to eye with his father now. Lanky but strong in size. Gold felt his breath catch, his face nearly betraying him as he gazed at the boy, his beautiful boy. It took every fiber of his being to not cross the small space and drag him into an eternal embrace. Hundreds of years and painstaking work was worth this moment just to see Baelfire again.

"Bailey" Isabelle's voice brought Gold back to his senses. She waved for Bae to join her. He slung his backpack off by the counter and stood beside her, Isabelle's arm resting on his shoulder playfully. "Mr. Gold has something to ask you?"

Gold felt his voice give out. The two people he loved, his world, was standing in front of him watching him expectantly. He cleared his throat. "I'd like to offer you a job, son."

Bailey gawked at him. "Really?"

"Really." Gold affirmed with a nod. "I need someone to help me move things and organize my shop. I will only need you a couple days a week so not to interfere with your schooling, but you'll be paid well."

He could tell Bae was mulling it over in his head, and Gold feared the boy would turn down the offer. "I'll accept the job, Mr. Gold." Gold could feel the unbearable tension in his shoulders ease. "Under one condition."

"Name it."

Bailey shrugged Isabelle's arm from his shoulder as he straightened and stared point blank into Gold's eyes looking so grown up. "You never intimidate my mom or my grandpa about money again."

"Bailey!" exclaimed Isabelle, clearly aghast at her son's forwardness.

But he wasn't moved and neither was Gold. "Deal?" Bailey stuck out his hand, and Gold was suddenly in a spacious cottage eating supper with his son at the dinner table.

He caught Bailey's hand, shaking it, though his own hand felt as if it would shake to pieces at the touch. "Deal."