The Goblin and the Fairy Princess Part III

by Twyla Mercedes

Water, Tears and Thundersnow Dark difficult decisions made long ago by Gold come back to haunt him and threaten his relationship with his lovely dryad wife.

Sylvia/Faline is my own character. Everyone else is, well, you know.

Yes I'm going somewhere with this, for sure.

Certainly had some hesitancy going with a possible Gold/Emma past relationship. Although it still works now it will probably implode with future episodes of the show. Still hoping for an R. Gold redemption and the only path I can see that would ever work for him would be true love.

FYI: Thundersnow is a real weather phenomenon. My own magic man was born on the Solstice during a thundersnow storm at the moment of a lightning strike of an oak tree.

The Goblin and the Fairy Princess - - - Water, Tears and Thundersnow PART III

Dark difficult decisions made long ago by Gold come back to haunt him and threaten his relationship with his lovely dryad wife.

It's been almost a year since Gold first coerced sweet, innocent Sylvia into his bed; she had inadvisably bartered her body to avoid foreclosure for a loan for improvements to her florist's shop. Sylvia DuBois was the Storybrooke incarnation of a powerful dryad, Faline, one tied to a rowan glade deep in the enchanted forest of Fairyland. Before the Curse, she had reluctantly saved the life of an injured goblin-creature that stumbled into her glade. Over time, true love ensued between the two. After The Curse was enacted, the goblin-creature had retained his memories and most of his magical powers and he now possessed the power coinage of the new land, wealth. But the dryad was bereft of power and talent and all his efforts at reviving her memories and her confidence failed.

He owed her a debt for saving his life and he had not paid it yet. It is only by showing her real magic that he rekindles her memories and her powers (and pays his debt to her). Her recognition of her true nature re-opens a small window into Fairyland. But Sylvia, furious with his high-handed, even cruel, treatment of her, throws her entire power arsenal at him in an effort to exact some level of retribution, impressing him with her newly emerged level of talent. She forgives him but, despite his attempts to shield her from the awareness, also realizes that his skills and talents are immense and she will likely never be able to best him if it is a contest of magic.

Once her memories are restored, Gold insists on marriage and soon enough, his sweet Sylvia is carrying his child. They will have a son, something that no dryad has ever produced.

+ + + + + Long Ago

It was early morning and it was raining. The young dark-haired woman, dressed as a boy, but clearly not a boy, was soaked through and bedraggled. She had ducked into the merchant's hut, apparently by chance. But not by chance. He had been expecting her. Of course, he had been expecting her.

"Yes, yes, missy, are you here to get out of the rain or can I help you with something?" she was greeted by a wizened creature with gnarled black nails, matted hair and dark, deep eyes. His eyes gleamed with anticipation.

"No, no, maybe," the young woman was hesitant. This was a curious shop with a variety of odd merchandise. It contained a table scattered with bottles and jars, metal bowls. In one corner was a spinning wheel.

"I think," the creature wheedled around her. "Maybe?" He brought his face close to hers. "There is something you want? Something for a family member, perhaps," he paused and said slowly, "your step-mother, yes, I think something special for your step-mother."

How could he know this?

"I need something to protect myself, but I. . .I. . . don't have anything to pay you with," she stammered out.

He shook his head. "Too bad, missy, too bad. There is always a price to pay." He turned away from her.

"Well," she reached into her one of her pockets, "I do have these things." She showed him some few golden items she had acquired (actually stolen, but all she had in the world at the moment).

He barely gave them a glance and waved her off. "I do not need your trinkets, no gold or jewels. You will perhaps be better dealing with the trolls. They have interests in such trivialities." He continued working at his table.

The young woman stood awhile, hesitant to leave, hesitant to stay.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" the creature asked her irritably. "Be off with you."

"Is there anything, anything else I can use to pay you with?" a touch of desperation seeping from her.

The creature stopped what he was doing and approached her, "What are you willing, what are you willing to pay?"

"What will you take from me? What can I give you?"

"Uhmm," he walked around her, assessing her. "What indeed?" He reached out to trace down her arm. She pulled back, repelled by the creature's touch.

"Well, well, well, there are some things that you have that you might be willing to give up?" he ascertained, with just a slight leer.

"I'm not willing to trade my virtue or my freedom," she said defiantly, definitely.

"Standards, huh, you think you have standards? Then, then," he considered. "Perhaps, for this," he pulled a small bag from the inside of his leather vest as if he had been expecting her to come for it. " A kiss, just one kiss?"

She hesitated. Just a single kiss? "What is it?" She almost reached out for the bag, but stopped herself.

He smiled and stepped around her. "Fairy dust," then added, shaking his head, "Not the good kind of fairy dust. No, no, no," he responded with a maniacal laugh. "This is dark, dark fairy dust." He held out the bag and pointed to it, "A pinch of this, and your enemy will be transformed into something very small, very inconsequential, something," he finished with a lopsided grin, "You could step on."

This was intriguing. A pinch of bad fairy dust, and then just a step. She could be free, safe. And all for just one kiss.

As if he had heard her, he said, "But it must be a real kiss."

"Done," she said abruptly. And she stood and waited.

He laughed, "Oh no, missy, you must kiss me."

She sucked in her breathe. "Very well." She hesitated, stepped in, closed her eyes, and touched her own, warm, delicate lips to his. It was a soft, lingering kiss, surprising her with its tenderness.

When she stepped back, she opened her eyes to his. He was smiling. "Very nice, missy, you are one to keep your agreements." He obviously approved. "Here," he handed her the bag of dust which she snatched from him in her eagerness. "Be careful not to use it all in one place," he added cryptically.

As she walked out the door, back into the now diminishing rain, she did not hear him say, "Well, well Snow White, off to meet Prince Charming at last. Soon enough, soon enough."

+ + + + + Not so long ago

Gold awoke abruptly from his reverie, recalling the simple, easy bargain he had made so long ago with Mary Margaret. He had had to prove to himself that he could trust her, that she would keep her word. He had thought that he could trust her, she was honorable, but this was so important, he had to know that she would keep her word. He knew when he had revealed the secret for breaking the curse, he must have the name. And for that second bargain, with just one 'please,' she had kept her word. She had given him the baby's name.

Emma.

+ + + + + First Snow

"It's snowing! It's snowing!" Sylvia was out on the back grounds, running around in the flakes, trying to catch them on her tongue, spreading her arms out as she whirled around.

Gold couldn't help but smile at her exuberance. She acted like a four-year old confronted with her first snow fall.

"Come out, come out," she reached out to him. "Dance with me."

He reluctantly joined her, holding her hands and taking her around the gardens in a waltz-like dance. She was flushed, her face glowing. He gathered her up into his arms, pressing her burgeoning body to his, stopping the whirling motion. She was six months along, her previously lithe form gently swollen with their baby boy.

"We shall have to sleep in the Gazebo tonight," she informed him. We'll have some of the little fire salamanders in to keep it warm," she was chattering, her eyes aglow with excitement.

"Princess, have you never seen snow before?"

"Of course, but I have never seen snow with you before. It's so beautiful."

"Let's get back into the house first. It's too cold for you out here."

Under protests, he managed to lead her back into the house and into what had become known as 'the parlor,' where he had initially coerced her into his life and into his bed. The previously gloomy, dark room was now brightly lit with a variety of lights, colorful curtains and a couple of gorgeous flower bouquets. In the small fireplace several little pyric creatures cavorted happily. Gold had invited them to stay in his home after Sylvia/Faline had called them down on him in a monumental display of anger. He had sat down in his luxurious leather chair and pulled her on to his lap to caress her and lightly kiss her.

"I am so, so fortunate to have you in my life," he said. He had not been this happy in, well, never. He had never thought he would find someone as special as her. . . and the baby was making it even better.

She kissed him back and popped back up. "Come on, I know you just want to spend the night here in House of Shadows, but we're going to get our stuff and find our way out to the Gazebo," she ordered him up. "Here I'll get some of the salamanders," she went to the fireplace and, with the special pail they kept by the grate, invited several of the little creatures to jump in.

He put on a heavy coat and insisted she do the same, although she felt that it was hardly necessary. "In the morning, it will be frigid and far too cold for you to walk back to the house without one. And make sure you have put on some sturdy shoes." Sometimes she was more like a four year old.

She ran off in front of him, carrying the pail, shouting, "Come on, come on," and he sighed. Sometimes, well sometimes, she was almost too much. But he wouldn't trade a moment.

+ + + + + News

As they walked widdershins around his house to their Gazebo, he was shivering, but she seemed oblivious. Once inside the summer house, he helped her with the fire bugs and with the merest touch of power, raised the temperature of the open room to a comfortable level. Because of their magic, easily accessible in this small pocket of Fairyland, despite being open to the elements, the Gazebo was as snug as any well-insulated room. They would lie in bed together with only candlelight and moonlight to illuminate the freshly falling snow. It was beautiful.

"Oh yes, I heard from my mother today and she wants to come and meet you before the baby comes."

Gold sat stunned. "Your mother!" he repeated. He was puzzled, "I didn't think you knew how to get in touch with your mother."

"Apparently the curse affected those even very far away in Fairyland, so it took me awhile, but sweet little Blate Coy, you know the really shy computer guy who was one of those seven fellows sending Mary Margaret flowers, he helped me track her down. She was living over near Lake Benoic in France, and he found her with his computer skills."

Sylvia and Gold had both liked the little guy. Once Gold was confronted with a static video record when trying to discover who was behind the mystery bouquet dilemma, he had hired Coy to help and had quickly discovered that he was actually one of a group of seven of the townspeople, including gruff Leroy Grincholt, and Almos Blino, both security guards at the hospital, who had decided to send Mary Margaret their thanks for all of her years of help to them. They had discovered a back way into the florist's shop up through the floor one of the back rooms and using Blate's technology skills were able to static-out Gold's video equipment. It had absolutely felt like magic at first, but Gold, somewhat to his chagrin, had had to acknowledge that much of true modern technology seemed like magic to him. The group was mortified to learn that they had well and truly bothered Mary Margaret; they had only wanted to thank her for the many kind, little things she had done for them and had concocted what they had thought was a nice plan for her.

Sylvia was still talking, "Mother is still under the curse, so you will be meeting a pale imitation of her, but she's pretty over the top even now. And she's located three of my sisters. I didn't know that there any still around. They are all coming." She looked at him, her silver-green eyes were all wide and innocent, "You don't mind do you?"

"Of course not," he replied, adding under his breath, "What man would mind four strange high-maintenance women coming to visit his pregnant wife?" He sighed. Sometimes the woman was exhausting. There were no small issues in her life and therefore none in his.

+ + + + + A Test

The DuBois family arrived en masse. They were all animated lively women, slender and one prettier than the others. They arrived in a bright green SUV and connected with Gold at the Diner. They were each surprisingly different from each other. Her next younger sister was Tradet, a leggy redhead, then Albero, a tall brunette, and finally her oldest sister, Bauma, a curly headed golden blond. Her mother was Maderia DuBois, a petite woman with similar ash-blonde coloring to Sylvia.

Damn, even if he had not known that Maderia was a queen, it would have been apparent. She just took over a place.

"So you are the man that has stolen my daughter's heart," she addressed him directly holding out her hand for him to kiss. "She had told me that you were much older, but not so old, I think."

Gold nodded. He estimated in Storybrooke years she was only slightly older than himself. He knew in Fairyland years, she was likely a couple of hundred years old.

"I love your daughter, very much," he told her the simple truth. "I plan to take excellent care of her."

"You certainly got her pregnant soon enough," she observed, although she didn't seem especially displeased. "DuBois women are very fertile."

"We had a precipitous romance," he admitted. "The baby came after the wedding.'

"How convenient," she observed. "She's convinced she's having a boy. I can't imagine where that is coming from. No one in our family has ever had a boy." She didn't really seem to disapprove of him and was definitely impressed at the comforts he was able to provide for her and her daughters.

The sisters rapidly cut a swathe through town. At her request, Gold introduced Bauma, the curly blonde, to the little computer geek, Blate Coy was of interested to her because he was the one who had helped them connect with Sylvia and she wanted to thank him, thank him, personally. He was obviously in awe of the blue eyed, golden haired woman, as vivacious as any of them. She overwhelmed him with her outgoing personality and was likely giving him the time of his life; he hadn't really been out with a girl before.

Albero had hooked up with Ruby and together the two girls were doing the bar scene, such as it was in Storybrooke.

After a week running rampart all over town, generally disrupting his life, and anyone else's life they collided with, the women announced that they were leaving that evening and thanked him for all his hospitality.

That's when there was a little more trouble.

It was Tradet, the redhead, who confronted him that last damp afternoon in his pawn shop. Tradet, who was known to her sisters as "the pretty one."

"You have some very interesting stuff here," she observed. Like her sisters often had done, she had dressed in a short, tight, revealing dress. The simple clingy dress was cut low to reveal a voluptuous figure. Her long red hair fell in ringlets and waves. She wore dark eye makeup and bright red lipstick. She wore long earrings complete with feathers and crystals. And she smelled good.

"It is the nature of pawn shops. Miss Tradet was there anything you were looking for?"

"Actually you," she addressed him directly. "My mother and sisters have asked me to speak to you." She wandered around the shop touching and picking up odd items, then putting them down. "Sylvia's family, well, we are abit different. We aren't known for marrying at all, or," she laughed, "sometimes, we marry frequently, one man after another, or even several men at the same time. We aren't particularly constant. We wanted to meet you to see what so appealed to Sylvia."

"And," he prompted.

"We are fascinated. You are a good deal older than my little sister but" she smiled at him, "are obviously keeping her. . . satisfied." She leaned in and, without warning, kissed him directly on the mouth, putting her hand behind his head to stop him from moving. He was so surprised he didn't have time to pull back. "Uhmmm," she murmured. "You taste good, I see why she likes to kiss you." She pulled back and began walking around the shop again. "You are rich, and I hope you know that she likely has designs on your fortune. I certainly hope you got a pre-nup. We aren't, as a family, known for our ability to commit." She reached for him again, but anticipating her move, he stepped back.

He explained as best he could, "I'm deeply in love with your sister and, I believe, that she's in love with me." He began to realize that she was trying to back him into a corner.

The young woman, really a dryad and very sure of herself, just laughed at him. "Do you now? You know, we don't mind sharing," she assured him. "Are you sure you wouldn't consider spreading around the love? Sylvia wouldn't mind. I know that while she is pregnant, she cannot have as been as attentive to your needs as you might have preferred. I'm sure a man of your. . . energy level. . . would be open to some. . . additional outlets." Her voice was low, throaty, seductive.

He caught her hands together and began, as gently as he could, to steer her towards the door of the shop.

"Dearie, I don't know if this is some kind of test or something else. I can assure that there are many young, unattached men in this town, or any town, who would be happy to address your. . . needs," he smiled at her.

Tradet relented, "I see." Her face fell, but then brightened up. "Sylvia told me that you were . . . magical. That you were focused, and careful and very, very thorough." She signed. "Quite the magic man." She leaned in again and kissed him on the cheek. "You sure you won't reconsider?"

He shook his head and watched with some relief as she walked away. Promiscuous little sluts. He admitted that he hadn't like sharing his own little fairy with them.

+ + + + + A Question

It was more than two months later. Things had quieted down since the exodus of the DuBois family. Sylvia was doing well with the baby but, for her, had seemed to be more tired. At his absolute insistence, she had hired some help, little Ashley Boyd, to pick up some hours in her own shop and had dropped back on her schedule at work.

The weather had remained cold, wet, rainy and snowy. It was early evening when Henry, the Mayor's ten year old adopted son, dropped in to his shop.

"Mr. Gold. I need to see you sir," the boy addressed him politely and seriously.

Gold intentionally toned down his manner to be less intimidating. He liked this child.

"Yes, sir." He came up to the counter. "Did you give the book on Fairy Tales to Miss Blanchard?" he approached his concern directly.

Gold hesitated. The child was no fool. What was his game? "Yes, I did," he admitted. "It had been in my shop for awhile and there had been no one interested in it. I thought that as a school teacher she might have some use for it."

"Where did you get it from?" as an afterthought he added, "please."

Gold almost flinched. The child had used the same intonation that he himself would use with his adoptive mother when he was pressing the geis. Was he a Talent? His real mother certainly was.

He decided to change the subject. "You seem fascinated with this book. I understand you have formulated an interesting theory regarding it."

Henry actually smiled at him, just that little bit lopsided smile he had. "I think that all the people in this town are fairytale characters who have been trapped by my mom, not my real mom. Look, I know who you are in this book."

"Indeed."

"Yes, it took me awhile, but you are Rumplestiltskin. You are the one who created the curse. You gave it to the Evil Queen. You told Snow While how to break the curse. You are always making deals."

Gold shook his head and tried to be gentle with the child. "Henry, I don't know where I got the book from. There are a great number of items that have been gathering dust here; this was one of them."

"So you aren't going to tell me where it came from?"

"I can't tell you what I don't know."

Henry sighed. "I once heard, she didn't know I was listening, my mom, not my real mom, say that you were the one that brought me to Storybrooke. How did you find my real mom?"

"Henry, this is for adults. You need to be talking with your mother."

"But you do that sort of thing, buy and sell babies, don't you?"

"I have a lot of business dealings. I do sometimes help out young women who find themselves in . . . difficult spots. I do my best to help them when I can."

"But I know you don't like my mom, not my real mom. Did you just get her a baby for the money? Because she hired you?"

Gold was trying to be a kind as he could with the child. He sensed that Henry was getting at something and was surprised when he couldn't read him clearly. Definitely some Talent here.

Henry persisted, "How did you find my mom, my real mom?" he then hesitated, and then asked. "Do you know anything about my dad?

Gold stood absolutely still. There it was. Henry was asking about his biological father.

"Oh, Henry. This is definitely something you should talk to your mother, your real mother, about."

Henry nodded, upset. "You won't tell me anything about him?"

"I canna, Henry, I canna."

"I think you know something and you won't tell me." Henry was more upset, but trying to pull himself together. "I understand, sir. I don't have anything that you want to make a deal for."

He left the shop.

Gold was unnerved. The child had read him, he knew it. He delayed for only a moment and followed the child out. It had been damp earlier in the day, but then had begun to drizzle. It was now a hard, cold, freezing, steady rain accompanied by ever increasing gusts of wind, thunder and lightning. Gold realized quickly that Henry had not started back for his home, he was heading for the old Toll Bridge. Where was the child going?

Gold saw that Henry had stopped on the Bridge. The child leaned over the railing and peered into the fast moving water. A car shining headlights rounded the curve and the driver saw what happened at the same time that Gold saw. Lightning hit one of the trees near the Bridge, splitting the stone walkway and tossing Henry into the water. With but a half moment of hesitation, Gold was running towards the river. The driver of the car had stopped and was out also running towards the river. He reached the water first and dove in. What am I doing? I hate water. It's cold and damp and the least friendly to me of all the elements. The water was so cold, he struggled to breathe. He pushed himself forward toward the boy who was bobbing like a buoy in the rushing water. He reached him, grabbed him, and began to swim to the shore, keeping the child's head, and his own, above the water. In the dark, cold mass of water, he barely felt the other person, helping him, towing them both to the water's edge. They were pulled out together.

His ears filled with water and his entire body, numbed with the impossible cold, was shivering uncontrollably. It took him a moment to realize who the other person was. Emma, Sheriff Swan, doing a routine patrol had seen her own child pushed into the water by the lightning accident. She had seen what Gold had done and then went into the water herself, to help pull them both out.

"I don't know if I could done it without you," he gasped out. She was on the ground by the child, checking him for breathing and pulse. She began doing CPR and quickly Henry regurgitated river water.

She laid Henry on his side and nearly collapsed herself. "He's alive, but he's swallowed some water. Hypothermia, all of us. In shock. We need to get to the hospital." She managed to gasp out and then stumbled over to the patrol car to make the emergency call.

+ + + + + Confession

Regina charged into the ER. "Where's my son? What happened to him."

Sitting on the sidelines, covered with several blankets, still very drenched was Gold. "A freak accident Madame Mayor. He was walking across the old Toll Bridge when there was a lightning strike, the walkway shattered and he was thrown into the water."

Regina was surprised. "You saw this?"

He nodded.

"Why are you wet?"

Emma came up to the twosome, also wrapped in blankets, also wet. "Because he dove in after Henry. I was just coming around the corner in the patrol car and saw everything. I helped pull him out, but if it had just been me, I don't know if I would have been in time."

Regina turned to Gold. "You saved him?" Regina seemed surprised.

Gold stood quietly, finally shrugging.

Regina was to be allowed to see Henry. She stopped before going into the room. She turned and said, "Thank you, thank you both," and went into the hospital room leaving the two in the hallway.

Emma sat next to Gold. "I wanted to thank you too. I wouldn't have been able to get to him in time."

"You don't know that, a mother's love can do remarkable things. And, if you hadn't come along, I suspect there would have been two bodies in that river."

Emma, touched his arm. "I still thank you. I saw you go into that dark icy water. It was pretty impressive."

Wrapped in blankets, the two sat quietly drinking bad hospital coffee together. Gold decided to share.

"The boy came to see me today," he began.

Emma was puzzled, "See you, whatever for?"

"What else, The Book. He wanted to know if Miss Blanchard had gotten it from me. Which she did."

"Listen, I hope you didn't take offense, he's gotten some obsessive, really over the top ideas from that book."

Gold almost interrupted her. "He wanted to know who is father is."

Emma blanched. "Why would he ask you?"

"I don't know. I suggested that he ask you," he paused. "He seemed upset when I couldn't tell him anything.

Emma sat quietly.

"I don't know," she said finally.

"Miss Swan?"

"I don't know who his father is. I was just eighteen, had just been booted out of the foster system. I was living in a homeless shelter, probably the lowest time of my life. I pooled what little money I had with some of the other people and we had brought some cheap-ass wine and some kinda drugs. We all got drunk and high, but then the party turned kinda nasty. I didn't like where things were going so I stumbled off and was just wandering around the streets."

Gold waited for her to continue.

"It was late, really late at night. There was a car, a nice car. It came up alongside me and the window came down. I was cold and it was warm inside the car. The car was nicer, smelled better, than my room. I knew better, but I got in."

"Ms. Swan, you don't have to share this, not with me," his voice was kind, gentle.

"I need to share it with somebody. I never have told anybody what happened. "

She was holding back tears. "The man was older, a good deal older, I think. I really don't remember ever seeing his face clearly, he always kept himself in the shadows. Very nice, very soft spoken, bit of an accent. Well dressed, really well dressed. He was kind and gentle. I guess I thought, 'What the hell.' I let him take me to a hotel, a really nice place. It was clean. I hadn't been anywhere so clean in awhile. He ordered more wine, nice wine, and room service. Best meal I had eaten in a long time, hell it was the best meal I had eaten in my entire life. He held me on his lap and kept telling me how pretty I was."

Emma had begun to cry. "I just let him. I mean, my life was shit. Why not take alittle pleasure when it was offered?"

"Certainly no one could judge you, Ms. Swan," Gold spoke softly. "You had had a difficult life and were in an impossible, vulnerable position. There didn't seem any hope for you."

"He left me a thousand dollars. Boy, I lived on that money for quite awhile. After I realized I was pregnant, I got into some more, serious trouble and eventually, well you know, I ended up in jail where I, at least. got some prenatal care and nutrition. Henry was born in the jail and it was there that I got this amazing offer. If I would give up the baby so it could go to a new home, a real home, I would get a lot of money. It just seemed like the best decision I could make for the child."

"And yourself," he added. "You did the best you could."

Emma leaned into Gold, crying freely now. "After the baby was born, I finally had some real money and then I really started working and getting my life back together."

He hesitantly put his arm around her, cradling her. "You've done a remarkable job. You had your own business in Boston. You are responsible member of the community here. You have friends. You've not done too badly at all."

Emma smiled and tried to wipe away her tears.

"But how can I tell Henry that his dad was some one night stand? For the kid to find out about the jail-birth was tough enough. I don't know the father's name or anything about him."

"Have you tried to find him?"

"Many, many times. Almost as often as I have tried to find my birth parents. But I had nothing to work from, an unidentifiable fancy car, no name, not even a phony one. He certainly had had enough money to wipe the hotel register and buy off the clerk's memory." She shrugged. "All I can remember is that he had that bit of an accent and called me princess, like you do with Sylvia."

Gold smiled. "Did he now?" He reached up to wipe tears from her face with his still damp silk handkerchief.

Emma looked at him, her tears beginning to dry up. "I don't get you. You are undoubtedly one of the sleaziest, underhanded, manipulative people I've ever met. You can be outright creepy, but then you can turn around and be kind and supportive. You know I don't trust you, but you do seem to be doing right by Sylvia."

It was that moment that said Sylvia nearly ran into the ER. She spotted her husband and one of her best friends and rushed over to them.

"Oh look at you! Everyone is talking about what you two did! You are heroes!" She hugged Gold and soundly kissed him. "I can't believe you jumped into that water. You hate water!" She added an aside to Emma. "I think he's always been afraid that it would melt him."

He held her on his lap, and gently ran the back of his hand along her arm. "Princess," he murmured and kissed Sylvia back on her mouth. That quiet gesture and single word caught Emma's attention. No, it was not an uncommon gesture and she had certainly previously heard Gold call Sylvia "Princess" repeatedly. An older man, a fancy car, an accent. No, that would be just ridiculous. She shook her head.

Regina came out of the ER examination room. The trio arose when she approached them. "He's going to be all right. Dr. Whale said that you two got to him in plenty of time. I owe you thanks for saving his life."

"Madame Mayor, we just did what anyone on the scene would have done," shared Gold.

"Diving into that dark, freezing water, risking your own lives? I know why Ms. Swan would go into the water, but your only relationship with the child is that you brought him to me. Thank you both, thank you."

Emma stood by. After Regina had turned back to the hospital staff, she spoke. "'You brought him to me?'" she repeated. "You are the one who brought Henry to Regina?"

He hesitated. "The Mayor had asked me to handle the matter for her. I had some contacts in different cities, Phoenix was one of the towns that came up." He sighed, his shoulder slightly slumping. "Yes, I was the one."

"You brokered the baby and gave me the pay-off money?"

"I did Ms. Swan," he admitted.

"You gave my child to that bitch?"

He dropped eye contact. "I was well paid. She was, is, an up-standing member of the community. The money gave you a chance to start a new life. How would things have been different for you, if I had not been there to help you?"

Emma simply slapped him across the face and walked away.

Sylvia watched the encounter without saying anything.

"Darling, you brought Henry here for Regina?" When he didn't answer her, she drew him to her, "I see why she slapped you." She watched him closely. He seemed defeated and deflated, all the air pressed out of him. There were waves of energy expanding out of him. He seemed to be losing control. She needed to get him out of here, away from Regina.

She tucked herself under his arm and guided him out. "We need to get you home into a warm shower." He allowed her to lead him out of the hospital and back to the car.

He was continued to bristle with energy and she couldn't help but read him.

What she read, what she saw and understood, was alarming. She knew his foresight was a staggering Talent but all that he saw, to glimpse the tapestry of lives and events and to be able to follow each thread. . . oh. . . that was what he saw? She put him in the passenger seat and quietly asked, "Is Henry your child?"

Damn Dryad empathy. Her powers were growing. He knew he wasn't shielding himself well. It was a good thing he was no longer around Regina. His dryad wife had read him like a child's primer.

Gold did not reply, but leaned his head back against the seat.

She asked again, "Rumplestiltskin, is Henry your child?"

She barely heard his response, "Yes."

A moment later he barely heard him, "I did what I had to do."

Then, "Please don't leave me."

+ + + + + Dissatisfaction

She sat on her own bed considering. Gold was taking a hot shower

He had told her Emma's story, Everything, from what he had done and, now, what Emma had shared with him about her perspective. Emma hadn't realized his role beyond that of broker, but her anger that he would take her child and place him with someone like Regina would likely never rest. If she should discover that he was the child's father. . . well, this time she would probably shoot him.

She sat on her bed considering.

I don't want to leave him. Please understand. It's not because he had sex with another woman. He's a grown man, it was ten years ago. I haven't always been an active part of his life. I understand. I accept these things. It was the cold-bloodedness of his actions. He wanted Emma to have a child, a special child, who would bring her back here. So when she is little more than a child herself, he seduced and abandoned her, then sought her out to buy back the very child he had forced upon her, so that ten years later the child would seek her out and bring her back to Storybrooke.

No, it's not what he did with me. He didn't find me in a destitute situation, use me for one night, and then move on with his own life. With me, there were genuine feelings. With Emma, it was something he had to do to get a baby, just another step in a larger plan. It's like they were things, not living people with hearts and souls of their own.

She considered. He is a great mage but is also certainly a dark mage. He does things sometimes for reasons the rest of us cannot know, cannot understand. He suffers for his gifts. It is, after all, another curse. The price of magic.

Deep in her thoughts, she had not heard that the shower had stopped. She had not heard him come into her room, wearing one of his thick, luxurious Sea Island cotton robes and was surprised to look up and find him there.

"Princess?" he asked, holding out his hand to her.

She gave him a weak smile. "Forgive me, darling," she tried to keep her voice sounding natural. "I was so very tired and restless and decided to sleep here for the night."

He stood a moment. Sylvia remembered how threatening he had looked to her when he had first brought her to the House to pay off her debt. Here again was that glimmer of threat, of raw power. "I understand, but you will sleep better in my bed."

It was an order, not a request or suggestion.

She sat on the edge of her bed. He was between her and the door.

"Just for tonight, please," she avoided looking at him.

He stood just a moment longer and then stepped towards her, putting his hands on her arms. "Princess, I need you tonight, I need to feel you, I need to be inside of you." I have to get my energies under control and becoming one with you will help that.

This was not like the times he would take her when she wasn't ready or even interested, those were often overwhelming experiences but had never been fundamentally unpleasant. Tonight, though, she did not want him. She could not help herself but reflexively pulled back and pushed against him. "No, please, not tonight." There was too much about him that she had to sort out. She wasn't comfortable or willing to simply yield to him tonight.

He easily used his physical strength to pull her against him. She was struggling against him in earnest now, trying to stop him from undressing her, from kissing her, from bedding her. She realized quickly, too quickly that she could not stop him. He was too strong, too hard, too big. But she continued to thrash and push against him while she tried to pull herself away, and tears began to well up. In desperation, she ultimately tapped into some of the dark magic of the House and let it serge out of her, pushing against him. He felt it, and stopped.

"You would refuse me? You would try to stop me?" There was anger now. "Understand something, witch. You cannot stop me. Not here Not now. Not yet. Not ever. You don't have the strength, the power or the right to stop me from taking you."

And he crushed her serge of power as if he had been crushing an inconsequential insect. The rebound stung and she recoiled. He lay on top of her, his weight making it hard for her to breathe. She realized he could do as he would and she would not, could not be able to stop him. Roughly, holding her hands down away from her shoulders and against the bed, he kissed her hard, hurting her. She heard herself whimper. She could feel him against her leg.

She managed to gasp out, "Don't hurt our baby."

Abruptly, he stopped and lay still against her for a long moment before he rolled over and away from her. Lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling, she heard him. "If I have overplayed this hand, if I have lost you, I have lost everything," he muttered bleakly.

He took a deep breath and left her alone.

She had tears running down her cheeks. She was gasping for air and her arms hurt from his treatment. Her clothes had been scattered across the bed. She curled herself into a little ball.

I need some time. Just alittle time to think things through, to adjust to what he did, to try to understand the man I'm married to.

+ + + + + Guest

It was about 3 in the morning, when she knocked on the door. Given the time, it took her several attempts to gain the attention of the occupant who finally came to the door, not abit unperturbed.

She spoke, "I need a place to stay for a few days, but given who my husband is, well nowhere else in town is an option. I thought that you, of all people, might understand and might have a room I could crash in for a little while."

The occupant stood a moment considering. The young woman at the door had obviously not slept, had been crying and looked genuinely miserable and disheveled. The woman was carrying a small overnight bag.

"Of course you can stay here. I'm so sorry things aren't working out between you and your husband."

Regina allowed Sylvia to come into the house.

+ + + + + Girl Talk

Sylvia wasn't in the mood to go out to her shop the next morning.

She wasn't in the mood to go out to the Diner for breakfast.

She sat in Regina's kitchen, in pretty frilly champagne silk and lace night clothes, sipping some tea. She wore her green crystal. Regina joined her.

"How is Henry?" she asked the Mayor.

"I had just gotten back to the house when you came so early this morning. He's going to be fine. They just wanted to keep him overnight for observation. I will be bringing him home today."

Sylvia managed a weak smile. "That's wonderful news. I'm so happy that he's ok."

"I can't believe what your husband did for him. Gold is not a young man and with his own leg injury, for him to dive into that cold, dark water. Well, we haven't always agreed on, well, hardly anything, so that was an incredible act."

"I don't think he was thinking about his relationship with you, Regina," observed Sylvia, casually using the Mayor's first name as if they were actually friends. "Henry is a child and Gold loves children. He would have gone in after anyone's child."

Regina looked at the little florist a moment, slightly astonished. "I always wondered what you saw in Gold," she confessed. "It's easy to see what he sees in you, but what appeal could the man have for you?"

Sylvia smiled slightly again. "I know the man I see is very different from the one that most people see. They see him for his deals, and his contracts and his finger in every pot. They don't see that he is really kind and concerned and has so much love to give." She got up to discard the remnants of her tea, now cold. As she walked to the sink, Regina's sharp eyes caught small bruises along Sylvia's arms.

Sylvia stood by the sink looking out the window, fingering the crystal. "Sometimes, however, others do see the kind man and sometimes," she paused, "I see the deal-maker." She turned back to the Mayor. "Obviously the man and I had a fight." She clasped the pale green crystal she always wore about her neck.

"That's a unique piece of jewelry, you have there. I'm guessing he gave it to you."

Sylvia nodded. "It has a long history with us. I never take it off."

"Really, how sweet. When did he give to you?"

Sylvia thought back. "It was the morning after he had me. . . over the first time. I think he'd had it ready to give to me for some time."

"Like he'd been planning on it," Regina shook her head. "He certainly is one for schemes and plans."

"Yeah, that's why we had our disagreement," confessed Sylvia.

"Couples have disagreements. Every relationship has ups and downs," Regina changed the subject. "Are you going into Faline's this morning?"

"I may need to give it a day and just rest and think about things. Ms. Boyd can manage things well enough."

"Now, that's an odd name for your shop. I'd always wondered why you didn't call it Sylvia's?"

Sylvia had a flash of alarm. She had unwittingly used her true name for her store. She didn't have to have Gold tell her that for Regina to discover her true name could be very, very dangerous. She responded as flippantly as she could manage. "Oh it's really rather silly. Growing up, I loved the story of Bambi. Faline was the girl deer in the tale. When I had to name the store, it came down between my favorite baby deer name and my own name. I went with Faline's because it was alittle more unusual. I thought it would get people's attention."

Regina set her coffee in her cup. "Cute story." She signed, "Now, I have to get back to the hospital. Feel free to make yourself at home. Stay as long as you need to." She arose in every appearance of concern. "I'm so sorry, my dear about everything. I hope Henry's accident did not play a role in this. If there is anything, anything I can do." She actually gave Sylvia a quick hug.

+ + + + + Realization

Emma couldn't help but notice that neither Gold nor Sylvia showed up at the Diner for breakfast. She, herself, had been back and forth to the hospital all night, checking on her son, who seemed to be making a full recovery, thanks to the quick actions of Gold and the opportune arrival of herself. She was struggling to make sense of so much. She had confided in Mary Margaret the night's occurrences and, most importantly, the confession she had given the night before to Gold. Why did she share such intimate details of her life with that man? He hadn't asked her to, had given her plenty of opportunities to stop, and then, had comforted her along the way and said all the right things. Henry had warned her about Gold. Could he have some kind of hold over her?

She pushed her breakfast around her plate.

The fancy car, the darkness, the man's soft voice, his accent, sitting on his lap, his gestures, his use of the word 'princess.' She knew what was bothering her. She confronted it.

If it had been ten years ago, the man could have been Gold. He was the right height, weight, general physical appearance. Last night she had seen a kind, physical side of the man and it had stirred a sense of familiarity. It wasn't just the baby brokering, that was something smarmy that Gold would be entirely capable of and for him to have been the one to have brought the child back to Storybrooke made entire sense. What was bothering her was a growing sense that he could be, might be, was possibly. . . Henry's father. Practical Mary Margaret suggested she consider getting a DNA swab.

+ + + + + Threads

She was surprised to find him standing at the front door. She was still in her lavish champagne silk and lace nightclothes. She was barefoot, as usual.

He was clearly furious. She immediately tried to shut the door in his face, but he was too fast for her, stepping into the door and putting his hands on her arms.

"What the hell were you thinking? Coming here?" And with that he scooped her up and walked with her away from the house, leaving the door opened.

"What do you think you're doing? You aren't in any shape to carry me down Main Street! Where do you think you're going?"

"Somewhere where I can have witnesses."

She initially struggled against him, but soon saw the futility and settled in for the ride.

They attracted attention, the older man, with his slight limp, carrying without any apparent difficulty, the barefoot, slight little florist still in her nightclothes down Main Street.

As they went by the Diner, Ruby's attention was caught. "I've got to see this," she whipped off her apron and left the Diner. She became part of an increasing company of townsfolk following the duo.

Gold and Sylvia stopped at the Sheriff's office. Stymied by the door, Gold stopped. Ruby was grinning, and reached around him to open the door so that he could go in.

While Sylvia had shouted to her, "No," simultaneously Gold had nodded to her, "Thank you." He kicked the door shut behind himself.

Sheriff Swan was in her office. She had heard the commotion and was surprised when Gold unceremoniously dumped his wife on her desk. Without preamble he addressed Sylvia.

"If you were not carrying my child, I would beat you! What were you thinking, what could you have been thinking to go into that woman's house?"

"I needed time away from you and where else could I go?"

"Your gazebo for one, you are perfectly capable of keeping the place habitable. Any of your friends would have taken you in."

"But you own the gazebo, and you own the apartments and houses of my friends. And I needed to be away of things you own."

Emma was standing and delicately tried to remove herself from this very private argument. Gold gave her a quick imperious glance, "You, Sheriff Swan, you stay here. I need a witness that I have not hit my wife."

He turned his attention back to Sylvia. "We've had this discussion before. I am glad you have friends who will take you in. But, you are to stay away from That Woman. I cannot impress upon you how dangerous she is. She represents a great threat to many of us, especially you and the baby and, of course, Ms. Blanchard. If she can, she will try to kill all of you. Ms. Swan, Henry and I can take care of ourselves, but you three are vulnerable."

Emma heard this, what? Mary Margaret a target? Henry can take care of himself? What was he talking about?

He stepped back from the desk where Sylvia was sitting with her legs curled up under her. Still attired in her lacey, silky nightclothes, her hair tousled, she looked tiny and delicate, every bit the fairy princess.

Emma caught Gold murmur very softly under his breath, "Pretty, pretty," while looking over his disgruntled, but still quite delicious-looking young wife. While still looking at Sylvia, he spoke to Emma. "Sheriff Swan, my wife has decided that she is uncomfortable sharing my bed and living under my roof. I know it would be a great imposition, but one that I would be perfectly happy to reimburse you for. I would prefer she stay in a safe place, with friends. Could she move in with you and Ms. Blanchard until she comes to her senses?"

Emma smiled. "It's Mary Margaret's place, but I think I can speak for her. She'd be happy to do it for nothing. Don't even consider it a favor," she told him with a slight edge to her voice.

He gave her a slight smile, acknowledging the jibe, "There always a price to pay," he murmured. "Thank you."

He turned back to Sylvia.

"Now listen to me and listen well. Get this into your empty, frivolous little dryad brain. This is very serious. I've already told you this. If Regina suspects for a moment what you really are, she will come after you. I do not want you to even have a moment alone with her. I am hiring another person to be with you at all times. If you are not with Ms. Swan then someone else will be watching out for you."

She started to protest, but he interrupted raising his voice, "This is not a request."

He took one more deep breath and quietly said to her, "Understand, I have seen all the threads. I know where each one can go. This path that I chose is not an easy one but it is the only one that leads us all to happy endings. I did only what I had to do. It was the only choice. For you and me, the baby, for Ms. Swan, for Ms. Blanchard, for Mr. Nolen and for Henry."

He hesitated but then reached over to pull her up into his arms, kissing her deeply and very soundly. Sylvia responded, putting her hand up to caress his hair. When he released her, her eyes were closed and her breathing deep. She had almost melted into him.

He reluctantly let her go and addressed Emma, "I'm putting the most precious things I have into your protection, Sheriff Swan. I know you will not fail my trust."

As he turned to leave he added, "I will be at my shop. If you want to take the princess back to my house to pick up a few things, this would be a good time." Emma could see that as he exited her shop, the crowd parted to allow him passage.

Once he had left, Sylvia spent some time composing herself demurely on the desk top.

Emma offered her a raincoat to cover up, but had no shoes to offer her. She drove her back in her yellow VW to Gold's estate to get some of her clothes.

"You know, it's always impressed me how you can stand up to Gold like you do. Everybody else in town just bows down to him. That was quite a scene," she observed.

Sylvia ran her fingers through her hair. "Yeah, we had alittle confrontation last night and I felt that I needed some time to think things through. Time apart from him. I couldn't think of anywhere else to go, so I ended up at the Mayor's."

Emma shook her head, "You know you would have been more than welcome with Mary Margaret and me."

"But I didn't want him to take it out of you and Mary Margaret. You may not know this about him, but he can be vindictive if he thinks someone has crossed him."

Emma managed to remain silent for a moment, before responding neutrally, "Is that so?"

Sylvia screwed up her face and almost giggled, "Well, I guess you might already suspect that."

"Why does he think that the Mayor wants to hurt you and the baby?"

Sylvia hesitated. How much could she share? How much did Emma know? How much did Emma suspect? "Of course, you know there is a history between Gold and Mayor Mills, not a pretty one. He has told me that Mayor Mills has special grudges against himself and especially against Mary Margaret."

"What on earth kinda problem could she have with Mary Margaret? She's never hurt anyone."

"I don't know," Sylvia responded sincerely. "I just know there's a problem, a serious problem between them. Mayor Mills really, really hates Mary Margaret. Gold has told me that she is actually in some danger from the Mayor."

"Wow, what's that about? But you, too?"

"Because of my relationship with him," explained Sylvia.

"That would make sense," agreed Emma. "Tell me something," she hesitated. "He called you a 'dryad.' What is that about?"

They had pulled up to Gold's house. "A dryad?" Sylvia laughed. "Oh that's what he calls me when he's mad at me. That or "witch.'"

Odd choice, thought Emma.

Emma had only been inside the Gold Estate for Sylvia's wedding and it was pretty much what she was remembered, except now Sylvia's touches were readily evident. Sylvia went upstairs to gather up some clothes and toiletries into one of the over-night bags she had first used when she had entered her relationship with Gold.

Emma wandered around in the downstairs. She sat in Gold's leather chair, she knew it had to be his chair, it was a very lord-of-the-manor chair. She looked over at the fireplace watching the little embers dance around. She felt herself getting hypnotized by the little embers. It seemed to her like the embers were little live creatures, moving around on their own. Several times, it was as if they would stop and look at her. Wow, now that was strange.

She heard Sylvia start down the stairs. "Did he ever tell you about the spinning wheel?" she suddenly asked. "I saw one in the back of his shop."

Sylvia responded truthfully, "Yes, he moved it over there. He said it was a better place to keep it now. He told me he used to use it to spin wool into yarn and, sometimes, straw into gold."

"So you still don't know."

Sylvia laughed. "No, I actually think he used it to spin wool into yarn and, sometimes, straw into gold."

+ + + + + Water Damage

It was Regina's turn to drop by his shop. It was past closing time. "Well, well, well. Things are falling apart in Fairyland, aren't they? I'm trying to figure out what broke you two up. I do hope it was something I said," she purred.

"It's only been one night," he observed

"So far. Of course the little thing is about to give birth, so she is so preoccupied. That was some scene you gave us all this afternoon. Carrying her away from my house, still in her nightclothes and then turning her over to Sheriff Swan. The whole town is abuzz."

"I felt it was important that I should get her away from you immediately."

"I understand." Regina leaned against the counter. "We did have a lovely breakfast together. Talked about, oh, just girl stuff. Amazingly she really does seem to be in love with you, but apparently got a quite a shock recently when she found out about just how nasty and devious some of your dealings have actually been."

"She needs some time. I'm willing to give it to her."

"You are such a doll," Regina observed sarcastically. "I'm betting that you are spending all your time pining over her. Wondering what you did wrong, what you can do to make up with her."

He shrugged, noncomitantly.

"She wears a pretty green crystal necklace all the time. Something you gave to her. I was wondering where it might have come from."

"Regina," as often, he was becoming annoyed with her. "We seem to have the same conversation over and over again. Why are you here? What do you want?"

"Faline's," she responded cryptically.

"Her florist's shop?"

"No, Mr. Gold. I want to know all about Faline. That's an unusual name. I wonder where it came from."

"I think it was Bambi's little girl friend," he replied guardedly. "My wife is somewhat whimsical in case you haven't noticed. I wouldn't read too much into it if I were you."

"Uhmm, but you are not me. I don't believe in whimsy or accidents."

"I don't dismiss anything myself," he responded in agreement, "but I don't have the time to spend too much energy on trivialities."

The hit, like a spray of water, came suddenly. Gold struggled to not automatically shield himself from her; if he shielded she would know, know for certain. He allowed himself to go down, the spray hitting him hard, filling up his eyes, nose, mouth and lungs. This was the hardest thing, just taking it from her, that he done in a long time, but he had to protect Sylvia and the baby.

Regina stood over him, continuing to push the water at him.

"This is an interesting position for you. If you are merely human, then you will not remember this and you won't be able to fight back. But if you are something more, if you remember, if you know, then you will remember, but you won't be able to do anything about it, not without revealing yourself. And if you do choose to reveal yourself, then I will be free to destroy you and all those things you hold dear."

Well played. He lay on the floor behind his counter, struggling to breathe, to survive. She was drowning him. Faline.

+ + + + + The Human Show

Sylvia was sitting in Mary Margaret's kitchen sipping more tea. She had changed into one of her pretty lounge pajamas. They had a pink chrysanthemum floral design printed on a pale green background, consisting of pull-on pants with a loose matching silk tunic top. She had covered up with solid pink silk robe complete with ruffles. She had pulled her wavy ash blond hair back and tied it off with a matching pink ribbon. And, as she was most often, she was barefoot.

She hadn't told anyone, but for some weeks, she had been experiencing Braxton-Hicks contractions, a precursor to labor, and she knew her time was nearing. She knew she had to make a decision on her relationship with Gold. She had glimpsed into his vision, his sight, at the hospital, gleaning just enough information to make her alarmed at what levels he was prepared to sink to, but also to overwhelm her with what the man dealt with on a regular basis. And, he had told her, he wasn't operating on his full capacity not here in Storybrooke. No wonder he had been so mad in Fairyland. Too much power. Too much knowledge. Too much awareness. Consuming anger, bitterness and no love, never love.

"So what are you going to do?" It was Mary Margaret.

"I'll go back to him," she admitted. "I love the man, but I just needed some time away from him. I found out he had done something that sounded terrible, but he did it for the best of reasons. His mind, his reasoning, sometimes is so convoluted. He made a difficult decision, but I guess he didn't feel he had any other good options."

"I imagine he is a very complex individual. Emma has said that he is like a master chess player, ten moves, twenty moves ahead of everyone else, and he's playing so many games with so many players, all at the same time. He called himself 'intuitive,' but more like he has some type of real foresight into the future. She has told me that he has done some real mean-spirited things but also some amazingly supportive things for different people. I'm sure he had, has his reasons."

"Emma has always shared that you were the best listener."

"Well," Mary Margaret almost blushed, "I try not to judge. I try to do the right thing."

"I'll get my things together and go back to him tomorrow," shared Sylvia. She smiled, "I'll give him one night to sweat it out. It'll be good for him. He's too arrogant by half."

Mary Margaret gave her a hug and left her alone.

She sat through another contraction. That was a big one. These seemed to be coming more often and coming closer together. She sat in the brick kitchen listening to the thunder and catching brief glimpses of lightning. It was a lot like the night of Henry's accident. She got up and looked out.

No. This was different. It wasn't raining. It was snowing. This was thundersnow, a rare weather phenomenon, of considerable portent. Such an event could be accompanied by blizzard force winds and quick, heavy snowfall. Important, often dark, omens were associated with the rare event.

It was then, standing in Mary Margaret's kitchen, hearing the first rumblings of the thundersnow, that she heard him call her name, her true name.

He was in trouble.

He was in serious trouble.

She had to get to him. She quickly put on the first pair of shoes she could find, and grabbed somebody's winter coat. She knew she didn't have far to go to get to where he was.

The sheer force of wind, rain, snow and cold, so cold hit her as soon as she went out the door. The wind was blowing the snow so hard that it was hard to see. She stopped momentarily, not be the forces of nature, but by another contraction.

Oh oh. These might not still be Braxton-Hicks, she realized. This could be the main show. She was in labor.

She shook herself. She still had plenty of time, time to get to Gold, time to save him, then time to have the baby. First things. Get to him.

She struggled up the hill from Mary Margaret's. His shop was to the left, down six blocks to the end of the Main Street. She couldn't see the shop fronts, but knew when she had gone by her own shop and then the Diner. Everything had closed down because of the lateness of the hour and the fierceness of the weather. She encountered no one else but what would have been a ten or fifteen minute walk, had become a twenty to thirty minute ordeal. She had to stop several times due to her contractions. By her best guess, they were coming about every ten minutes. This was her first baby, she had plenty of time, she told herself. She stopped almost outside of his shop, catching her breath and letting another contraction wash over her. So far, not so bad, she told herself.

She could hear a voice. Was it Regina? What was she doing here?

There was no way she could make a quiet entrance, so she opted for a dramatic one. Once she opened the door of the shop the noise of the storm would announce her presence.

Graciously, her entrance was accompanied by a long, flash of lightning, outlining her form in the door of the darkened shop. She could see many things at once. The shop appeared empty but she caught a shadow figure standing behind the counter.

It was Regina. What was she doing?

Regina turned and saw her. "Well, well, it looks like the entire little family is here. Come in dear Faline, out of the cold."

Sylvia felt herself propelled forward into the shop and heard the door slam behind her.

"I'd wondered when you'd make it over here. I see your crystal is all lit up. Some kind of connection magic there, I imagine."

Gold lay behind the counter, incapacitated. He tried to cry out, to warn Sylvia, but there was no breathe, so smothered was he by the water magic of Regina. He was sacrificing himself for his wife and unborn child. Brave of him.

"What are you doing here?" asked Sylvia, stepping warily to the side of the store.

"Just visiting with your husband. He seems to be under the weather," Regina informed her. "Why don't you come see to him?"

"If he's ill, I'll take care of him." She didn't move.

Regina smiled at her. "He's over here. Why don't you come here?"

"You step away."

Regina obliged, still smiling and never taking her eyes off the Mayor, Sylvia edged her way around. She saw him, on the floor curled up onto himself, gasping. He was wrapped in a mist that seemed to be tightening itself around him. An evil vapor, a living shadow mist.

Sylvia turned directly to Regina, "What did you do to him?"

"Got his attention."

"Let him go," demanded Sylvia.

"I don't think so, Faline. I think you both know what is going on here. And I can't afford to have anyone know."

Sylvia hesitated a moment. If his powers had been curtailed by Regina, she knew she had no hope of fighting her nose to nose, especially not when she was about to give birth. She made a desperate play to remain human, to remain Sylvia.

"What the hell are you talking about? My husband was late home. We're separated but we keep up with each other. I was worried about him because of the weather. I came out to look for him. I find him here in the shop, fallen over behind the counter and I find you here, doing nothing. What is wrong with you? The man just saved your kid's life and you can't pick up a phone and call the hospital to save his?"

She could tell she had had some small impact. Regina seemed momentarily unsure of herself.

"Now," she ordered and bent down to see to Gold. She was hit by a contraction and nearly doubled over. She grasped his hand and squeezed and was enormously gratified to feel him squeeze back. She began to physically push back the mist. Cold, clammy, slimy, it actually seemed to shrink away from her when she touched it.

Regina had not moved. "Well," she shouted up at her, still dealing with the contraction. "Have you got a hold of the hospital?"

Regina was actually reaching for the phone. "Let them know that I think it may be his heart, he's struggling to breath," Sylvia called up.

Regina felt her hand reach towards the old-fashioned dial phone and called 911. "There's an emergency at the pawn shop, send an ambulance." She hung up the phone. What was happening to her? Something was controlling her. Not Gold, he was out. Not this flipperty dryad. She had no real power to speak of. The baby? She tried to marshal her energies but she couldn't reach them. Something was strong enough to dampen her strength, something she had not encountered before.

"They're coming, but will have some problems getting here because of the storm," she said, not sounding like herself.

"Great, now help me get him over. I can hear his heart and he's starting to breath."

Regina stepped over. What was going on? All around Sylvia was a puddle of water and the young woman was doubled over, breathing deeply and rapidly.

"You're in labor and your water just broke," she realized.

"Good thing you just called an ambulance."

Gold began to move again, and began gasping for breath. "I must have blacked out," he muttered, struggling to sit up. What was going on? Both Sylvia and Regina were here.

"Regina help me, we need to keep his head up. Get some of those tapestries down."

Regina was moving like she was in a fog, compliant and without speaking, pulling down several folded tapestries to use as blankets.

"Regina, are you all right?" Sylvia asked with a tone of genuine concern. "You seemed a little off when I came in."

"I . . .I guess, I had just come in. The storm had started up. I saw the light on and wanted to check on him and when he didn't answer, I came around the counter and found him on the floor," Regina spoke flatly.

Sylvia leaned back against the wall. "Darn. Another contraction. They are getting really close"

Gold had regained consciousness and was pulling himself up by now. "Sylvia, my love, are you in labor?" he was barely able to speak. He was drenched both with her water and the remnants of the dark mist Regina had forced down on him. "I must not have eaten well today and passed out. I'm so sorry. Regina, have you called an ambulance?"

"Yes," the Mayor just remained standing.

He began to shake himself and with effort was able to kneel by Sylvia. "I may need your help. The baby is coming. You called the ambulance, right?" acting confused, he repeated his question and caught her nod. "It will not make it in time." He addressed Sylvia, "Oh Princess, whatever possessed you to come out looking for me? Here, let me get these tapestries around you that you meant for me. Let me help you get comfortable." Moving slowly, but deliberately, he helped her around. "Regina, I need you to get at her head and hold her up."

Regina complied.

"I may need your help on this, Regina. Can I rely on you? Will you help, please?"

Regina felt the geis. She would comply, she would help.

Together, they helped Sylvia with the baby. As deliveries went, it was easy, although Sylvia would not have agreed. She cried, screamed a few times and alternately told Gold that she loved him but, more often, was never letting him touch her again. The baby came quickly and immediately began to breath. He didn't cry but a moment and then seemed to settle down, disgruntled with the sudden change in environment, but otherwise content. He looked around and then closed his eyes to go to sleep. The ambulance was trudging up to the shop about the time that Gold had secured the infant, tying off the cord and wrapping the infant in one of the tapestries. He handed the sleeping child off to his mother who cuddled the child, kissing him on his head.

Sylvia looked up at him. "We did good, didn't we?"

"We did," he agreed. "Thank you Regina. It would have been much more difficult without you." He smiled at her. "I guess any debt you owe me for saving your child has been well paid by your help here."

"Of course," agreed Regina.

The ambulance attendants collected Sylvia, the baby and, after hearing about Gold's earlier episode, included the pawnshop broker, putting them all into the ambulance. They also gave the Mayor a lift back to her house.

Regina stood in her house thinking things over. She had Gold, she had had him where she wanted him. He couldn't fight back without revealing himself. And he hadn't fought back, as if he wasn't able to, as if he had no powers, no memories. But something had clearly connected with Sylvia, True love? Oh spare me. Sylvia had shown up struggling against the elements, while in labor, to the shop. But once there, Sylvia had reacted like a human, not like a fairytale denizen. The crystal had lit up but Sylvia had seemed oblivious to it. At no point, did either Gold or Sylvia do anything to indicate they had memories. Gold had almost allowed himself to be killed. There had been some power manifested, but, she thought, it had to have come from the baby, a baby protecting his parents, a baby who would have had no memories to forget.

Maybe they didn't know. Maybe she was safe.

+ + + + + Health

"Maybe we are safe?" asked Sylvia.

"Maybe. You did the exact right thing, acting more human than she was expecting, throwing her completely off. But you shouldn't have. You were supposed to wait until I could hire you a guard before you went out."

"But she would have killed you if I hadn't come."

"She could have killed you once you got there."

"But she didn't. And she is now doubting her suspicions," she smiled up at him from the hospital bed. She then became very serious. "You know, I don't pretend to understand why you did what you did but I believe in you, I trust in you and I love you. I want to come back home."

He closed his eyes. "Thank you, princess."

She does not know. The baby had clearly manifested some enormous talent during the birthing, shutting down Regina, saving both of his parents. She did not know. This child, not what was expected.

"I can't believe this woman just gave birth," it was Emma, followed by Mary Margaret, carrying baskets of toiletries for the new mom. "You look better than most women do after a spa treatment."

While Emma preoccupied the new mother, Mary Margaret pulled Gold away from the bed. "We didn't realize she had left the house until it was too late. I had just talked with her and a moment later when I went back into the kitchen, she was gone. I don't know what possessed her to leave like she did. We got dressed right away and started looking for her but the storm got in our way. I'm so sorry. She could have died out there."

Gold looked down at his feet and then up at Mary Margaret. "Ms. Blanchard, I have lived with this woman now for almost a year. She is the most unpredictable creature I have ever known. I have given up trying to understand why she does what she does and I just hang on for the ride."

"Thank you." Mary Margaret paused and then added, "She had just told me that she loved you, that she didn't always understand why you did the things you did, but trusted that you felt you were doing the right thing. She said that she was planning to move back in with you tomorrow."

"Thank you. Ms. Blanchard," he responded grateful that she had shared. He glanced over to Sylvia who was animatedly sharing that the baby, although just alittle early, had come in at seven pounds, four ounces, and was healthy, perfectly healthy. Both mother and son were doing well and should be going home soon. No, they had not picked out a name yet.

+ + + + + Something Different

"We do need to select a name for the baby," he reminded her, yet again.

"Of course, darling," she agreed with him. She was always agreeing with him recently. They were walking out to the Gazebo with the baby, taking him into Fairyland.

"He's a beautiful baby in this land, but I want to see what his real appearance is."

She was a thing of Fairyland and for her that rich, vibrant land was "the real world." The world of Storybrooke was a type of colorless hell, and, perhaps, he thought, she was quite right. She was quite right about a lot of things.

The pretty blond baby boy changed but only a little once inside the pocket fairyland. His hair lengthened and acquired that slight green-grey color of his mother's. His eyes became like his mother's silver-green whirlpools. His fingers lengthened a little. His features all remained otherwise quite human. She sat quietly with the child inside the Gazebo, listening.

"My trees tell me that he is something different. Not a dryad but somewhat tied to the earth like myself and my sisters are. He will not receive a tree or glade. He's not like you, a creature of stone and fire. Something different."

He put his hand onto the baby's forehead and they both saw it for the first time. She looked up at him. "Your skin is changing," she observed. Indeed, instead of matching her silver tones, his had shifted to gold, but was less gleaming. "Are you becoming more human?" she asked.

+ + + + + Secret

It was well hidden, the dagger. If anyone ever picked it up, picked it up with recognition of what it was, he would be enthralled to that person. Of if they made his choice, they could kill him with it and take his power. That could not happen. He had kept it secret so long that even in Fairyland, no one any longer knew of its existence. He had destroyed those few that knew long ago. He possessed the secret of the power and the power and he alone.

But soon, soon, another would know.

Things would change.

fin

OK, yes, I do need baby name suggestions. Baelfire, how cool was that name? has already been taken. thx - txmercedes