Spoilers for 3x01
The woman was dead and gone.
Crushed heart, and warm ash, still lingered in Rumplestiltskin's open palm. But he makes no move to brush it off for he was far too concerned with savoring the sight of the corpse now lying at his feet.
"I can't say I didn't want to see that happen."
Dark eyes shoot up in surprise at the voice. Even more shocking to them was the lone figure standing there looking down at the body of the vile woman responsible for his son's death.
"Emma," he uttered, thoroughly confused by her sudden appearance.
"Yes, here I am." She said, gaze rising up to him slowly, green eyes glowing and cunningly bright. "Can you believe that?"
Perplexed, and in lieu of answering her sarcasm, Rumplestiltskin glances around the surrounding area; fully expecting—and dreading—to see the motley crew of incompetence that would surely have accompanied her presence here.
But he saw no one.
Looking back, he finds Emma staring at him quietly. He frowns, she smirks. It suddenly feels like role reversal.
"It's just me." She tells him. "None of them are here."
And so he quickly returns to form.
"Then I can only assume that the others have become so distracted bickering amongst themselves that you foolishly elected to go on ahead and venture off on your own."
But Emma says nothing to that, so he looks at her curiously.
"You must know that without you there to mediate the four of them may, for once, actually succeed in killing each other. Their lack of decorum is comically obvious. I'm rather surprised you've managed to make it this far so quickly."
Unexpectedly, she still doesn't bite back. She remains passive, and doesn't react despite his open mockery of the people she cared for. It was eerie, and unlike her, not to respond in defense of others.
She stayed silent, and just kept on staring at him.
So he does the same to her.
There is an uncommonly soft lightness to her pale features then that confuses him and which, unintentionally, begins to stir something inside him.
Like the warmth of a once forgotten memory.
It's odd, to see her like this; considering extenuating circumstances. She seemed, almost strangely, too calm and maybe a little playful in her demeanor.
"Something on your mind, Gold?" she asked, having caught notice of his off guarded attentiveness.
"Nothing that concerns you, dearie," he said, tone sharper than necessary. But Emma is unfazed by it. He wonders if she'd finally grown accustomed to its harsh and cutting sound.
"Funny, considering how much you had to say to me early about what you were thinking," She paused, steps over Tamara's corpse, and saunters just past him. Only to stop and remains near his side. She glances sidelong at him for a moment.
"Mostly of how little you thought of me."
She then looks away. He notes how purposefully and lax her stance becomes. He thinks she's waiting for his response, perhaps even expecting an apology.
He barely offers the former, "and that opinion still stands."
Then Rumplestiltskin claps his hands together sharply; the small burst of dust rises and swiftly catches in the winds. The ashy remains of his son's killer scatter and spill along the cold soil. The wind here is soft and sweeping, but there's not a sound to be heard.
"Though I will admit," he begins, after a mournful beat, to distract himself and also upon noticing Emma's muted stillness and continuously close proximity, "I am quite impressed you were able to find me."
He turns his gaze towards her slowly; aligns his eyes along the delicate angle of her face. He wants to read her expression even if it's only partially visible.
"Perhaps you may be more adept within the constructs of Neverland than you had initially appeared to be."
"And appearances are what matter most." Emma said, tilted her head back just a little for him to see, voice considering, "seeing is believing. Isn't that how the saying goes?"
His fingers twitch and curl at his side. He does not know why.
"So you're angry with me." He decides with a dismissive nod of acknowledgment, "for what I said to you on the ship."
"No," she shook her head, wisps of blonde glow along the moonlight, "you said exactly what I needed to hear."
The words linger heavily around them, over him mostly, and he thinks to say something back. But he can't seem to think of a single word to say.
"And that's what you do." She continues with a swift turn of her body; facing him once more, and looks at him like a puzzle solved, "try to help, guide me along in some form or manner, although it's usually in the most condescending and patronizing way possible."
She pauses, gives him another inscrutable look, inhales, and then finally said, "in spite of the cost to you, I really do think you want me to succeed in finding Henry."
Rumplestiltskin stilled, regarded her suspiciously and with anger.
"And what do you know of cost? Have I not already suffered the loss of my son? What more could I lose?"
She scoffed openly at his indignation. "You don't think I can't get inside your head Dark One? See what makes it turn, and go tick tock?"
She moves suddenly; steps once, then twice, and dispels much of the distance between them.
"You're a selfish man, first and foremost, Gold. So there's no way that this, you being here in Neverland, is just about you wanting to honor Neal's memory. There's something else going on, and it's why you went rogue the second we got here."
He leans into her; intimidating and close. "Careful there, dearie, you're treading on dangerous grounds."
"That's never stopped me before," she whispered back.
It's heated and evocative; the threat and challenge brewing between them. Like a wildfire; it burned unpredictably and nearly sears his cold control.
So for once, it's Rumplestiltskin who blinks first.
But only to catch a better look, "you're not real."
And with those words stripped and laid bare something tangible is left exposed; the silence becoming crisp and purposeful. And the gust of wind that follows is a heavy one; dancing against his flesh and through his bones as ifs being guided along by another's skillful persuasion. He shivers, despite himself, then declares firmly; absolute in his conviction.
"You're not really Emma."
And the woman standing in front of him gives a smirk; softly twisted and turning.
Hello! It's been a little while.
This was originally meant to be just a oneshot for my Golden Moments series but then I decided that it would be fun to break it up into a short multi-chapter fic instead. I began writing this after the premier last week, having finally found myself inspired to write again (spent the whole summer writing a whole lot of nothing) and I'm not too sure where or how far I'm gonna go with this yet but I hope you all enjoy what I have done so far and continue to read along.
Let me know what you think. Reviews are always a welcome motivator.
xoxox