…But how?
Such a simple request from his son, and yet, no matter how much he wished to, Rumple could not offer him a means to stop the darkness. Heavens knew that he himself had failed for nearly 300 years to keep the corruption of the Dark One’s curse from spreading over his mind and heart.
He needed his shop, his magical artefacts, his books, anything to figure out what on earth had happened here. He needed to figure out what had caused the curse to jump from himself to his son.
He needed to figure out how to take it back without harming Neal.
Rumpelstiltskin managed to drag himself to his feet, his injured leg still howling with pain in protest of being moved so soon after Neal’s magic had struck it. He took a tentative step towards Neal, though he was sure he’d fall to the ground again if he stepped to far with his crippled leg.
“We’ll figure this out, son. Whatever’s happened here…we’ll figure it out…” He promised, gingerly stretching a hand out to touch Neal’s arm. “Come on…we have to get back to the shop anyway…there’s something I need to check. If we’re going to figure out how to help you, it’ll be there. Trust me, Bae…”
For the longest moment, Neal stared at his father in silence, not because he was reluctant to speak to him, but because he was both trying to gather his thoughts as well as attempting to find a solution for the problem at hand. Letting images run through his mind, he decided, was the best approach, as coherent thoughts were a step further away and much more difficult to reach. And then a single flash of an item stored deep in his memory brought him back to the here and now.
"The dagger.”
At first, there was no explanation other than the fact that he had just brought the Dark One’s dagger under his father’s attention as part of the solution, but he realized there would be protest if he didn’t explain his plan. It was a temporary plan, sure, but he couldn’t think of anything better for the time being. Using the dagger would do just fine, for now.
“Get the dagger—and stop me.”
Killing him, no matter how valiant the sacrifice, would transfer the powers right back to his father, and he currently had no intention of burdening him with the powers of the Dark One again. But the dagger could control the Dark One as well. Had he forgiven his father enough to be subjected to his every command? It was their best guess—and they would soon find out, at least if it was up to him.
