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Chapter 21: Moe's Salvation

Moe French considered himself to be a reasonable man. He came from a respectable family. True, they weren't that high up there in the classes of nobility but there weren't peasants.

And he had rose all the way up to a knight. A person looked upon with honor in his village. His daughter had played with the princess of the kingdom when she was younger, and was betrothed to a respectable young man.

What did his daughter to thank him though?

Played whore to that…that…devil!

For years, he had wondered what had happened to his daughter after she had agreed to go with that creature. However, he never expected her to fall in love with it. Or that she'd willingly live with it and more than that…undoubtedly.

What Moe didn't expect was that she had a son.

Gaston's son.

A salvation to them all.

Or a salvation for his family.

The boy could save his family name. Of course, the boy couldn't save Belle. She was too far-gone. Moe had seen that earlier when she threatened him. Belle used to never do that. She was always the dutiful daughter. Being with the demon had obviously rubbed off on her.

He needed another drink.

Thank God, for The Rabbit Hole. He was surprised that the Evil Queen was kind enough to put a bar in this small town. Then again, how could you go without a pub? A drink could make any bad day good and that's what Moe needed.

A drink.

Well, make that his fourth one for the evening.

He was only now starting to feel good. He still hadn't completely drank away the look of disgust in his daughter's face.

Didn't Belle realize he was only trying to help her?

Why did she insist on staying with that demon?

Moe shook his head. His grandson, he shouldn't be growing up like that. He should be growing up with Gaston—his father.

Gaston would've made the perfect son. Tall, muscular, truly a provider. He never saw why Belle wasn't okay with the idea of marriage. He remembered the look of scorn on her face when he told her that he had arranged for the two of them to wed.

"Really, Papa?"

They were in the library. His daughter's fascination with books always had bothered him. He knew there was something wrong with the way she'd just plop herself on a couch in the library with a mountain of books by her feet and be happy for the rest of the day.

She should do something productive with her life like take up needlepoint. And look at her now, actually working with books.

Truly a disgrace to the family name.

"I need another beer." He called to the bartender at this point.

"I'll be paying for it." A smooth voice said behind him.

Moe turned around and couldn't help but stare. Standing behind him stood a woman. Moe couldn't place her. Then again, he didn't know or expect to know everyone in Storybrooke. She was probably a peasant back in his old life. A very pretty peasant though.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"A friend," The woman said.

God, even her voice was intoxicating. He really should've known her. "I don't know you."

"You wouldn't." She said. "Mind if I sit down?"

Women usually didn't come on to him. Moe couldn't even remember the last time he got laid. Therefore, the answer was yes.

He smiled at the woman as he eyed her tight shirt and oh so short skirt.

Apparently, he still had it. Now, how to find out who she was? Perhaps, being straightforward would work. "Have you ever been to the shop?"

"No. Unfortunately. I do like roses though. The red ones especially."

"Those are real beauties." Moe said. "You're not here to talk shop talk though, I hope."

"Oh, God no. The name's Alice by the way."

"Alice. That's a nice name for a nice looking lady."

"You flatter me to much." She said with a toothy grin.

But she was nice looking, toothy grin aside. Moe was really enchanted; he couldn't help but smile at her cute as a button appearance.

She sighed. "I've been thinking about you, Moe, since the curse broke."

"Have you, love?"

"Yes," She said. "Did you ever find out what happened to your daughter?"

He felt his body tensing. "Belle? Yeah, the whole town knows she's shaking up with that thing."

Moe still couldn't believe it himself. His precious Belle had been willing sleeping in that demon's bed. And while it was true that The Dark One resembled a man in this world, Moe knew better. That underneath that fancy pant's suit of his, hundred dollar haircuts, and cufflinks that could payoff his mortgage was the black heart of a monster.

She sighed. "I'm sorry to hear about that, but I wasn't talking about Belle. I was talking about your grandson, Harry."

"You know about my grandson?" He asked, "Have you seen him?"

The woman sighed. "Yes, I have. You need to help him. He needs to be away from that…that…"

"How?" Moe asked suddenly.

Despite common belief, he wasn't totally daft. He still had a few brain cells there even though he spent the past twenty-eight years deciding why the hell florist's ordered baby's breath when no one liked it.

"I was a nurse in another life," The woman said. "Harry's nurse."

"You worked with that demon?"

"I had no choice." The woman said. "You know how the Dark One can be."

Oh, did Moe know.

"Yet, you left his services."

"Soon as I had a chance." The woman said as she motioned the bartender to bring her another drink—whiskey Moe would later find out.

"Why didn't you tell me about my grandson sooner?" He asked, "The curse has been broken for months now. Didn't I have the right to know?"

Once again, this sort of interrogation prided Moe.

The former nursemaid of his grandson blinked for a minute. "It's a little hard to talk about. I really didn't know what happened to Harry, that thing has only let him go outside recently."

Moe nodded. "That right there tells you something's wrong. A boy his age should be getting lots of fresh air."

The woman nodded. "Yes, I agree whole heartedly. Which was why I wanted to meet with you."

Moe chuckled as he took a sip of the dark stout that the bartender had handed him.

"I don't get what's so funny?" The nursemaid said.

"Lady," Moe said. "I have been trying to figure out how to intervene for almost a decade. And every time I do something, how do I get portrayed, like I'm the bloody monster."

The woman eyed him quietly for a moment before she said, "What if I can help?"

Now this interested Moe. He couldn't see how the woman could help him. No, really he couldn't. If she was the Dark One's glorified nanny for his grandson, then she obviously was no match to that demon.

Moe chuckled as he gulped down another drink. "Lady, I doubt you can help me. Admit it, no one is a match for that creature. I even asked The Blue Fairy to do something about Belle and she said that she couldn't. That she had already pushed the demon as much as she could. Whatever that means."

The nanny pursed her lips. "That might be true, but let's just say I didn't leave the Dark One's empty handed."

Now, Moe was interested. "What are you talking about?"

The woman took a delicate sip (seriously, who takes a delicate sip) of whiskey and said, "Oh, now you're interested."

"I am interested if it involves saving my grandson. What did you take?"

"Something that will help you, gain control of him." The woman said. "And something that will keep you from forgetting yourself when you take him out of town."

Moe looked at her, "Cross the town's line?"

"Yes," The woman said. "It's the only way. The Dark One's magic won't work then. You can raise the boy to be a respectable citizen there."

Moe nodded. It sounded like a very good idea for him. The woman was right the magic that the Dark One had released in the world was confined to Storybrooke. If he could manage to get his grandson out of Storybrooke, then the demon would have no control over him.

It was the perfect solution.

Though, he was a teeny bit skeptical about crossing the town's line. He had only lived in Storybrooke in this realm; he knew it was his only option. He was sure that he could make it too. Selling flowers was a profitable career, when you didn't have to pay ridiculously amounts of loans back to a tyrannical imp.

If he were sober, Moe would've wondered about the sudden boost in confidence. Realistically, he knew that times were hard. And people were much more willing to buy designer strawberries and jewelry than wilted flowers whenever they romanced someone. But he didn't think of these things, instead he thought about the possible salvation for his grandson.

"Do I owe you anything?" He asked the nursemaid.

She shook her head. "Oh, no. Saving the boy, that's enough for me. Now, let me tell you about what I got from The Dark One's stashes that will help you keep your memories."

Despite, the fact that this was the only situation, Moe couldn't help but feel dirty as he held the potions that the woman had given him.

Magic.

He hated it.

He remembered resolving to use it that one time before. And look where it had got him then, a corrupted daughter.

The means will justify the ends, he kept telling himself. Though, he couldn't help but reflect on the vow he made to never use magic again after Belle had left.

He sighed. Even with magic, the whole plan was going to be difficult. Finding the boy would be next to impossible. Moe hadn't even seen Harry yet.

Seriously, Harry. What sort of name was that?

Common. Knowing Belle it was probably after some stupid book character. That was one thing he was going to make sure about Harry's upbringing, no books. He was going to grow up to be just like Gaston—Moe thought. No way was he going to be another Belle.

He knew there would be a lot of work to be done. The boy had grown up with his heretic daughter and that demon for so many years, but he was confident he could do it. Especially after they got away from the town.

He was sure he could do it though. He had to do it. Of course, things would be easier for the boy once they got across the town's line. Unlike Moe, the boy wouldn't be taking a memory potion.

A part of him knew he was wrong. He shouldn't be taking the lad's memories, but Moe knew it was the only way.

Look at Belle; she'd never be able to see reason. A part of him, desperately wanted to take his daughter with him, but he knew he couldn't do that. The creature wanted Belle and would protect her.

Her son with Gaston though, Moe was betting otherwise. The Dark One had no claim to him. And Moe knew the importance of biology, he should be glad Moe was getting rid of Harry.

At least that's how he rationalized the situation.

What Moe didn't think about was the fact that the imp had raised Harry since he was born. However, you couldn't exactly blame him for not having any logic since he had had six beers and some whiskey.

As he made his way down the street towards his house, his mind began to wonder just how he was going to convince the boy to come with him.

Candy might be a good way.

Boys liked candy. Look at that Hansel kid. It's too bad he couldn't make the flower shop look like it was a candy shop.

He also wondered how he was going to recognize the kid. Sure, his nursemaid had given him a description, and Moe knew he'd be able to recognize Gaston's son anywhere, but what if the devil had put enchantments on the boy.

He knew he had put other spells on him, at least that's what the nursemaid seemed to imply when she handed him a potion that would eliminate any wards or tracking spells that the imp might've placed on the boy.

Moe couldn't help but smile at this. For once, he had the upper hand and the demon didn't even know it.

He was so caught up in his future glory that he almost didn't see the small figure dart in front of him.

Moe slammed on the breaks hoping he wouldn't hit the figure. He didn't need a DWI. Going to jail was not in the plans right now. Once the truck came to a complete stop, Moe got out to see what he had hit.

Imagine to his surprise when he saw a small boy lying there on the ground in a puddle of blood.

Moe tried to figure out who the kid was, and see if it was possible if he could manage to bribe his family into not calling the sheriff. He must be more inebriated than he originally thought, because he could not place the kid.

Oh, well. Might as well take him back to his place then.

Yeah, he was so drunk he didn't do the responsible thing (i.e. call 911).

Instead, he just picked the boy up and threw him in the back of his truck.

He was so sloshed that he wasn't even panicking. In his mind, Moe figured that once the boy woke up he could offer him and his family free roses and all would be well. Or for that matter, maybe he wouldn't even have to worry about giving the free flowers. He was planning on leaving soon with his grandson…

"Bloody hell." He heard a small voice saying from the back of his car. "Where am I?"

Good thing no one else was on the road, Moe probably would've had another car wreck then as he turned around to look at his victim.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Did you hit me?" The boy asked. "Seriously. Does this place even have a DVLA? Regina really messed up on that."

"Huh?" Moe said.

The boy shook his head. "God, he's really going to kill me now."

Moe ignored the boy's babbling. "Who are you?"

"Harry." The boy said. "My name is Harry."

Moe slammed on the breaks.

"Seriously?" The boy said. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"No." Moe said. "No, I'm trying to save your life."