This is a Rumbelle AU based on the movie Tootsie. If you have not seen the film, you will still be able to follow the story. However, if you haven't seen the film, I highly recommend it - it's a classic!

Some important notes for this fic, and then I'll get on with the story . . . .

1) This fic takes place in the 1980's in New York City

2) Gold does not have his signature limp/leg injury in this AU. It just doesn't work for the narrative.

3) This fic is rated T but there will be some mild cursing in the dialogue throughout.

4) The character of Gold is a bit younger than he is on the show. The character of Cora is the younger version of Cora, played by Rose McGowan. These decisions were made because they best fit the narrative of this fic.

I do not own Once Upon a Time or its characters. I do not own the film Tootsie or its narrative.

Enjoy, and feedback is welcome!

Chapter One - Meet Barbara Michaels

Another failed audition. That made, what . . . . . seven this month? Michael Gold sighed as he exited the theatre. He didn't mean to get into an argument with the director during the audition, but . . . . well, his direction was ridiculous, anyone with a brain could see that. He probably wouldn't have had time to take the part anyway, he told himself. His agent, David Nolan, had all but guaranteed him a leading role in an off-Broadway production, some play called The Enchanted Forest that was certain to be a success. All he had to do now was be patient and wait.

Being patient was not one of Michael Gold's strong suits.

Gold was an actor. Growing up as a young boy in Scotland, he performed in several television shows and one film, and had a fairly successful career as a child. Then puberty hit – turned out that a cute, sassy child actor was neither cute nor sassy once their voice started changing, especially when their height didn't change all that much. He realized very early on that he would never be the box office heartthrob type, so Gold decided to study serious character acting. He was classically trained in London and worked there in the theatre for several years, until the roles dried up and the money along with it.

During his tenure in London, he got married, had a son, got divorced, and moved to the states. Once he settled in New York, he found it difficult to obtain and maintain steady work – even more difficult than it was in the U.K. He would get a commercial or a small television role here or there, and theatre work was inconsistent at best. When work wasn't happening, he was employed as a waiter at a local restaurant. A cliché job for an actor, he realized that, but that DID pay the bills when the acting gigs were few and far between. And lately they had been all too few and very far between. Today was his birthday – forty-five years on this earth, most of them as an out of work actor. He was grateful that no one remembered – he certainly didn't need reminding.

His son, Neal, was twenty-one years old and a creative writing student at NYU, with a goal to become a successful playwright. His work was good – and the most recent play he had written garnered him accolades from his professors. They were certain that it would be a successful show – the problem was, Neal was young and inexperienced and had to find his own financial backing. Gold and his son shared an apartment to share expenses, and although they both struggled to make ends meet, Gold was determined to find a way to obtain the money for Neal to stage his play. He wanted that for his son. It also didn't hurt that the male lead was a perfect role for him and Neal promised that if the play ever got off the ground, the part was his.

Gold arrived at his apartment, and the lights were out. He found this odd – Neal was usually home from class by now. He flipped the light switch on, and a room full people shouted "Surprise!" at him, then Neal popped out of the crowd.

"Hey – happy birthday, Papa!" Neal said, and he gave his father a hug. "You didn't think I'd forgotten, did you?"

"I was hoping," Gold replied. "Who are all these people?"

"Well – some of them are friends of mine, they just came for the free beer. But I have a lot of your students here, and some of the people from the restaurant," Neal said. Gold rolled his eyes and wondered how Neal convinced them all to show up. He wasn't exactly known for building friendly relationships.

Gold spent most of the evening hiding in his room, drinking whiskey and hoping that no one would talk to him. As the guests started to disperse one by one, one of his students approached him. Three nights a week, Gold taught an acting class at a local off-off-Broadway production company. This student, Cora Mills, was a promising but insecure actress that had been studying with him for nearly a year.

"Hey, Michael – great party. You hide all night in your room and my date left with someone else. And I have no cab fare to get home," Cora said.

"Well, I can walk you home, I have nothing else to do other than plot revenge on my son for this evening of nonsense," Gold said.

"Oh come on, he was just trying to be nice."

"If I wanted to socialize, I'd do so on my own. Come on, let's go." They left the apartment and started walking. "So – you still have that audition tomorrow morning?"

"I'm not gonna get the part," Cora said.

"Well, not with that attitude. This is a soap, right?"

"Yeah, Storybrooke General – most popular soap on television."

"Look – if your agent thought you were good enough to try out for the part, you have to believe you'll GET the part. You want me to work with you a bit?" Gold asked.

"You'd do that?"

"Well, it'd be nice to see someone get a job in this bloody city. Of course I will."

"Thanks so much for doing this," Cora said when they arrived at her apartment.

"Not a problem. So – let's hear what you've got. Who is this character?" Gold asked.

"Well, she um – she's some kind of administrator at the hospital."

"Some kind of? Cora, how many times have I told you, if you don't know the character, if it's not someone that you can make a PART of you, you're not going to get the part! Do you want the part or not?"

"Of course I want the part!" Cora shouted at him.

"Well than prove it to me! Here, give me the script, I'll read with you." Cora handed Gold the script. He looked over and then began to read. "You don't have a man so you try to act like one," Gold read from the page.

"You're wrong, Dr. Hook," Cora replied unconvincingly.

"What the hell was that? Was that anger, frustration, what? This guy is a jackass, he's treating you like crap, and that's how you react to him?"

"You're wrong Dr. Hook, I'm proud of being a woman!" Cora shouted, showing a bit more anger and taking on a southern drawl.

"Oh bullshit, I don't believe you for one second. Do you want the part or not?"

"Well, what else am I supposed to do with this, Michael? Just – show me how to do it right." Gold sighed.

"What kind of accent are you doing, southern? Alright. You're wrong, Dr. Hook, I'm proud of being a woman!" Gold shouted at her, putting on a very convincing feminine southern drawl. "Come on, get angry, show me rage, turn the tables on this jerk!"

"You're wrong, Dr. Hook, I'm proud of being a woman!" Cora shouted, trying to imitate what Gold did.

"What are you doing, what are you playing?"

"I'm playing rage, you told me to play rage!" Cora shouted at him angrily.

"That's rage?" Gold asked, and Cora sighed.

"I have a hard time with anger," Cora admitted.

"Well, see that's too bad, because there are a hundred other actresses trying out for this part that do NOT have a problem with anger. Now do the part the way I told you to or don't waste my time and yours with this nonsense!"

"Well, don't get mad at me, Michael!" Cora shouted, clearly becoming angry.

"Act, right now – do it!" Gold told her.

"You're wrong, Dr. Hook, I'm proud of being a woman!" Cora shouted, her tone improving.

"Now see that's what I want! Do it again – just like that!"

"You're wrong, Dr. Hook -"

"Angrier, come on! You want the bloody part or don't you, because I guarantee you there are at least fifty women that'll be there tomorrow that could act rings around this crap you're giving me!" Gold shouted.

"You're wrong, Dr. Hook! I'm proud of being a woman!" Cora shouted, delivering the line with perfection. "Things may have been a certain way before I got here, but I will not tolerate your behavior, and I will bring you up on charges to the hospital board if this continues!"

"Now see that's what I want! That was fantastic!"

"It was, wasn't it?" Cora said proudly. "You felt how angry I was, didn't you?"

"Completely," Gold replied. "If you could just do that tomorrow, you'll be a shoo-in."

"I don't know – how am I going to get a total stranger to piss me off like you just did?" Cora asked.

"Alright – I'll pick you up tomorrow at ten and piss you off, how's that?" Gold remarked.

Gold entered the waiting area the next morning with Cora, who was dressed in women's business attire, her hair up in a bun and a pair of large framed glasses posited on her face. She and Gold looked around the room and noted the several dozen women that were dressed in a similar manner.

"Is that what I'm supposed to look like?" Cora asked.

"That is what you look like. Ridiculous as hell," Gold said.

"Thanks so much for coming here with me, Michael."

"Fuck you," Gold mumbled under his breath.

"I couldn't do this without you."

"Yeah, cause you're that useless," Gold replied, trying to keep her anger elevated.

"Cora Mills. Is there a Cora Mills here?" a man in a tall top hat and colorful ascot who was carrying a clipboard called out.

"Go on – show 'em what a crap actress you are," Gold said. Cora just smiled at him and walked off with the man. Gold looked around the room for barely a minute, when Cora came back into the room, nearly in tears. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"They wouldn't even let me read, they said I didn't have the right look for the part. You know I spent twenty dollars on these stupid glasses – that's all I ever do is spend money." Cora took off the glasses and shoved them into Gold's hands. Not sure what to do with them, he put them in in his coat pocket. "I'm done with this. I'm going home."

"It's okay, we'll find another part for you to try for."

"No, I'm not going home to my apartment, I'm going HOME to Florida – I'll find some boring nobody to marry, maybe have a couple kids. That's gotta be better than this."

"Okay – okay, just give me a second, I've got a connection here." Gold walked over to the desk in the lobby, and the woman sitting there looked up at him. "Excuse me – is there any way I can talk to Victor Whale, he's on this show, we have the same agent, we've done some work together."

"I'm sorry – Victor Whale isn't on the show anymore. He's rehearsing an off-Broadway play called The Enchanted Forest."

"He's what?" Gold walked away from the desk, fuming. "That was my part. That was my bloody part!" Gold stomped off in a huff. "I have to go – I need to talk to someone," Gold said to Cora, and he stormed out of the building.

"Victor Whale? You gave that part to Victor Whale?" Gold shouted as he barged into his agent David Nolan's office. David was on the phone at the time.

"I'll call you back," David said into the phone, and he hung up. "Michael, what are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? That play – The Enchanted Forest – that was MY part, you said you'd get me that part!" Gold shouted.

"I said I'd look into it. Michael – Victor Whale is a known face, he's on a national soap, he has hundreds of thousands of fans."

"I can act rings around that man and you damn well know it!" Gold shouted. "I read the part, I was perfect for it, you can't possibly tell me that you disagree with that!"

"I don't disagree at all. You're a brilliant actor, Michael. But you're -"

"But I'm what?"

"Michael – quite frankly you're a pain in the ass. Remember that commercial I got you a couple years back? All the director wanted you to do was sit down and you couldn't even do that much!" Gold began to pace back and forth.

"David – I was playing a tomato! A tomato doesn't sit, it's not logical!"

"You were a tomato! A tomato doesn't have logic!" David shouted back at him.

"That's what I said! So how would a tomato know to sit, if it can't think?"

"Oh for god's sake, Michael – listen to me. I don't know how much clearer I can make this. No one will hire you."

"You're saying that no one in New York City will hire me?" Gold asked.

"Oh no – no one in Los Angeles will hire you, either. In fact, if you went back to the U.K. I'm pretty sure you're blacklisted there as well."

"What about that script I sent you, the one that my boy wrote? That's my part, I can play the part!"

"Who do you think you are, sending me your kid's scripts to get produced so that you can star in them?" David took a deep breath. "Michael, listen – I'm gonna give you the business card of a friend of mine, he's a good guy, and I think it would benefit you if you talked with him." David took a card out of his desk drawer and handed it to Gold. Gold looked it over.

"Dr. Archie Hopper? You want me to see a shrink?"

"He's not a shrink, he's a therapist, everyone sees one nowadays. Michael, you have to do something or you're done. No one will hire you." Gold sneered at him.

"Well – we'll see about that." Gold tore the card in half, tossed it on the floor, and left the room. When he closed the door, he looked in his pocket and found the pair of glasses that Cora had given him . . . . and he got an idea . . . .

Gold had never done anything like this before. But it was a job, it was open, and if no one would hire HIM . . . . . maybe they'd hire someone that wasn't him. He went to the theatre he volunteered at and raided their wardrobe – he found just the right wig, and a skirt, blouse and shoes that fit him perfectly. This was one time being short of stature benefitted him.

Gold looked himself over in the mirror before he left. He took out the glasses that Cora left behind and put them on as a finishing touch. Hmmm . . . who is this woman, he wondered? He started to imagine a back story for her – but she needed a name. Michaela? No – too modern, he was too old to have been given that name. He could use Michaels as his last name, though. That would work. But a first name . . . . . and then it hit him. Dressed like this, he looked quite a bit like his favorite auntie. His aunt Barbara. Barbara Michaels. Perfect. Gold left the theatre and made his way to the television station.

The man in the tall hat and ascot was still there with his clipboard when Gold entered the room. Thankfully the shoes he found didn't have a very high heel – how on earth did women walk in these things, he wondered. He checked in at the desk and waited, and the man with the clipboard finally approached him. "Barbara Michaels?" he asked.

"Yes," Gold replied in the feminine southern accent that he had used to demonstrate the role to Cora.

"I'm Jefferson Marshall, I'm one of the producers. I see that David Nolan is your agent, very impressive."

"Yes – I apologize for not having my resume ready, he called me last minute and I didn't have a copy on hand."

"Well that's fine – come on back." Gold followed Jefferson, and was led to a tall man with dark hair, who was looking over a script. "Miss Michaels – this is our director, Gaston Hunter. This is Barbara Michaels. David Nolan is her agent." Gaston looked Gold up and down.

"Well, that's great honey – but I just don't think you're right for the part," Gaston said, then he turned to talk to a cameraman.

"I'm sorry but – why am I not right for the part?" Gold asked.

"It's just – you're a little too soft for what I'm looking for," Gaston said.

"Soft?" Gold.

"I'm just – looking for a specific physical type for this role, that's all," Gaston replied.

"Excuse me, Mr. Hunter but – I'm an actress, and I can play this part any way you like," Gold said.

"Oh, I'm sure you can sweetie, but – you're just a little too genteel for this role, I'm sorry," Gaston said, and he put his arm around Gold's shoulder as he led him out the door.

"Get your hands off me or I'll knee you right where it hurts!" Gold shouted, still using his feminine drawl as he shoved Gaston away. "Is that enough of a threat for you? I see what you want. You want some caricature, so you can make some statement that women in power are unattractive. Well, shame on you – shame on any woman who lets you get away with that. Jackass." Gold stormed off, and Jefferson, who watched the entire scenario, gave Gaston a glare.

"That's – that's not what I was doing," Gaston said. Jefferson left the room and went after Gold.

"Miss Michaels!" he called out as Gold was nearing the elevator, and Gold turned around. "Was that an audition or was that for real?"

"Which answer will get me the part?" Gold asked.

"Come on back," Jefferson replied.

Gold dropped the script pages he was given to look over as he waited for the audition to begin. This was crazy, he thought to himself. How on earth was he ever going to get away with this? As he bent down to pick up the pages, a woman who was passing by stopped to help him. "Don't be nervous," the woman said in a soft accent that Gold immediately spotted as Australian. Gold looked up at her. She had deep blue eyes and long, brown hair. Gold smiled a bit. "I'm sure you'll do fine." The woman handed him the script papers and walked away. Gold watched her leave, then turned his focus to the script, as Jefferson and Gaston conversed in the room behind the glass. He read for the part, and everyone who was watching was mesmerized.

"She told me no director had ever communicated a part to her so fast," Jefferson said after the audition was over.

"She said that?" Gaston asked, his ego stroked quite a bit. "I like her. I like the accent. There's something about her though."

"Well, whatever it is, I like it," Jefferson said. He turned on the monitor so that Gold could hear what they were saying. "Congratulations, Miss Michaels. We'll send the contract papers over to David Nolan tomorrow."

Gold found the nearest pay phone and called David Nolan's secretary, and she informed him that he had a meeting at the Russian Tea Room that afternoon. Gold had to explain the whole situation to David, so he headed to the establishment, still in the skirt, blouse and wig. When he saw David approach the door of the restaurant, Gold approached him in character. "Excuse me sir – do you know where the Russian Tea Room is?"

"This is the Russian Tea Room," David replied. Gold looked up at the sign over the door.

"Oh, look at that, it is, I'm sorry to bother you." David just shook his head and went inside. Gold smiled to himself. David didn't recognize him at all. Gold waited a moment, then went into the restaurant and spotted David sitting alone at a booth. Gold sauntered over to him and sat down.

"Excuse me, but I'm new in town, would you mind having a drink with me?" Gold asked, still in character.

"I'm sorry, what are you doing?" David asked, not sure how to react to the strange woman, and he stood up. "Excuse me, waiter -"

"No, sit down," Gold said, grabbing David's arm. "It's Michael Gold. Your favorite client." Gold said in his own speaking voice. David's eyes widened in shocked. "Yes, it's me," Gold said, this time in his feminine accent.

"Michael? Oh god, I begged you to get some therapy," David replied.

"I got a soap, David," Gold said, still in the female accent. "They almost didn't hire me because I was too feminine, can you believe that?"

"You're insane," David replied.

"No, I'm employed," Gold retorted in his own voice. "They're sending the contracts over to your office and I needed you to meet Barbara Michaels."

"Barbara – are you crazy? You can't get away with this!"

"I believe I already did," Gold replied, returning to his feminine voice. "Come on, this is the opportunity of a lifetime, it's an actor's dream, playing a role within a role." The waiter came to the table.

"Can I get you anything?" the waiter asked.

"Double vodka, please – fast," David replied.

"And for you, ma'am?" the waiter asked Gold.

"How about a Dubonnet with a twist?" Gold replied in his feminine voice.

"Yes, ma'am," the waiter replied, and he walked away.

"Now – I need you to loan me a thousand dollars until payday," Gold said in his own voice.

"A thousand dollars? For what?" David asked.

"Well, I borrowed this from the theatre, I need something to wear, don't I?" David just gaped at him, obviously exasperated. "Don't worry – I've got this under control. And you said no one would hire me." The waiter arrived with their drinks, and David grabbed his and downed it in one gulp.