A/N: I can't believe I'm actually contributing to the Rumbelle war! This particular story is in response to the Mary Margaret special attack.
The setting is pre-Skin Deep
Fog
Mary Margaret loved watching the children play during recess. Their care-free attitudes made her ache for such as that in her own life. Adults had so many secrets. Those secrets would never allow them to be free. And adults always had to be on guard to protect their secrets. Yet for someone like her, her most precious secret was what made her feel free. David was her secret. Looking into his eyes, feeling his arms around her, it was as if they were in another realm. It was as if their embrace was the true reality.
She couldn't remember a time when sadness hadn't shrouded the town like a fog. It had seeped into the very marrow of the people she saw every day. No hope. They lived their lives without hope for anything better. A few tried to leave, yes, but the fog always held them back. It blinded their way, made them fall into a ditch. There was no escaping. Mary Margaret longed for a hero, a savior to come and free them. She hoped that maybe others had found their own personal escape like she and David had.
Mary Margaret continued looking out the window. It was common place for people to take walks and pass by the school's play ground. Some would saunter by and simply ignore the happy squeals. Others would stop and sit on the bench to watch, longing etched in their faces. They were glancing into a world that they were no longer a part of. Such happy beginnings...
Passers by usually didn't catch her attention, but not everyone had a limp and a cane.
Mr. Gold, the most feared man in town, was carrying a small box. He made his way up to the bench and carefully sat down, placing his cane and the box beside him. Mary Margaret didn't know what to think about this. She tried to reason through it. Of all the places to sit, he chose that particular bench. Why? Was his leg hurting? Was there a stone in his shoe? She noticed he wasn't wearing his leather gloves. Maybe he developed a blister on his hand without their protection and needed a break? Her mind would have continued speculating had it not been for Mr. Gold's own look of longing. She had always known his face to carry a disdain for all mankind. Either that or an occasional half-smile when a deal had been struck.
Mary Margaret didn't know what she was more curious over: his face betraying the fact that he did have emotions and maybe even a heart, or the content of the small box. But she continued to watch his face hoping to catch a glimpse of any other emotion that might surface.
Sorrow would pass over his face when he looked at Henry. Henry was an exception when it came to children. His innate care-free spirit was burdened with something she couldn't understand. She had given him a book to give him hope. And the book had changed his life...but the question that plagued her was if the change had been for the better. He was obsessed with the book and its stories to the point of making it everyone's forgotten reality. Mary Margaret smiled at the thought of being Snow White. Pure, innocent, naive Snow White. Although the idea of having seven short men adore her didn't seem like such a bad thing.
Her smile faded as it finally dawned on her. Could Mr. Gold have had a child? And what of the child's mother? She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one foot. Mary Margaret had always considered him a shallow man. He wore expensive suits, seemingly cared only for his gain in every matter. Completely incapable of love. But what if...? The questions bubbling over in her mind ceased when she saw him pick up the box. She inhaled sharply in anticipation. Mr. Gold's un-gloved hands cradled it carefully.
"Open it," she begged.
At last Mr. Gold made a move to open the box. He looked around to see if anyone was watching him. She exhaled in relief that he hadn't seen her.
He gingerly lifted the lid, the hinged top keeping the inside hidden from curious eyes. He made no attempt to remove whatever it was. He simply looked inside. And as he did, she swore a whisper of a smile came across his lips. His usually dark eyes lit up as if he, too, had found a small way of escaping the fog. His very countenance changed. What confused her more was his expression and how familiar it was. Mary Margaret was captivated and didn't realize she was now on her tip-toes, fingers pressed against the window for balance. She was ridiculously hoping for a better look.
Whatever was inside, Mr. Gold began tracing it with his fingertips. Around and around, lovingly tracing the object until she couldn't take it anymore. She had to know what was inside! Finding the nearest exit, she headed towards the play ground. She didn't care that she had no excuse to go near Mr. Gold, let alone pry into his business.
But as she neared the bench, her pace began to slow. The look on his face was so familiar. Her heart began to pound as she studied him. He was entranced...lost in another world...escaped. The moment seemed so private despite the fact he was in public.
His hand was blocking her view. Just a little bit closer...
David. Mary Margaret stopped cold, her synapses firing. David. Mr. Gold's expression. It was familiar...because it was David's...and any other man's when gazing upon his true love. She put her hand over her mouth, willing herself not to cry. People of this town assumed he had no heart, no love to give. But now she saw. This cruel man had loved once. And still does. Her curiosity roared, but she was not going to give in. To intrude on something so precious...
But who had he loved? Was she dead? Had she rejected him? Or had he ever been brave enough to proclaim his love? The man kept up his image of power very well. She doubted he would have ever admitted to something so dangerous and as potent as love.
She slowly turned and walked away. She couldn't explain how, but knowing that there was another person in this town who had a true love... she felt as if there was a fighting chance against the fog.
Little did she know that someone else had been watching Mr. Gold. When Mary Margaret left, Regina nonchalantly passed by and was able to steal a glance inside the box before Gold could close the lid.
The Queen smiled, "A chipped teacup is it?" Plans began to form, and she knew the details would unfold themselves later. There was only one thing that gave her pause. It wasn't the rage she had felt from his being when he had realized what she had done. Yes, his rage was powerful, but what she had witnessed beforehand was even more so. It was what she had feared most...his love for her was still alive.
True love never dies, but she was going to make it as painful as possible. She had to. The fog was beginning to dissipate.