Chapter 1: A Visitor

"Sir, is this your daughter?" The police officer nodded towards the girl standing next to him, who he held by the arm. She was looking at the floor.

Gold stared at the police officer blankly. He and the girl were standing on the lowest step; half in shadow. The door lamp's light didn't quite reach there.

"This young lady claims to be your daughter?" the officer tried again, now with a note of concern in his voice. "She gave this address."

Gold cleared his throat to respond, tightening his grip on the door. His leg had been acting up. He took a tentative step forward.
"Officer, I do not…"

The girl raised her head. Her features were briefly illuminated and Gold did a double take. She had a heart-shaped face and stunningly blue eyes. Eyes that he would, even after almost 16 years, recognize everywhere. The girl fixed him with her gaze for a moment. There was defiance there, maybe mingled with some curiosity. The sensation of shock that must have clearly been displayed on his own face was not mirrored on hers. She merely looked him up and down once; then blew a strand of blonde hair out of her face and looked back at her canvas shoes.

"Sir?" The officer shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Gold hastily rearranged his face to what he hoped was a stern, mildly concerned, fatherly look. "What did she do?" he asked; his voice level.

"We picked her up on Fifth Avenue and 42nd Street, Sir. She had climbed one of the lions and was reading a book." The officer stated.

"Reading a book." Gold echoed. He looked at the officer in disbelief. Since when was reading a crime? - In this world or any other.

"When we approached her, she kicked my partner in the face and ran."

"Oh." Said Gold. He looked at the girl again. She was petite. The yellow, shabby backpack she was carrying on her back seemed taller than she was. It was hard to imagine her attacking a police officer. "Err, sorry about that."

"We don't have a curfew for minors, Sir, but in the future it would be safer for your daughter to complete her schoolwork at home after nightfall." The officer winked and nudged the girl.

"Of course." Said Gold.

Without so much as looking at either of them, the girl hurried up the two remaining steps and ducked inside.

"Teenagers." The officer shrugged. There was an empathetic smile on his round face now.

Gold gave a non-committal grunt. The knuckles on his right hand had turned white. If he was to let go of the door, he wasn't sure he would be able to stand.

"Goodnight, Sir." Said the officer, tapped his cap and turned to leave.

Gold kept standing in the door frame. He looked after the cop; then watched as the police car drove past and sped off into the night. After a few more moments staring into the darkness, he finally closed the door and limped through the narrow hallway towards the living room. He had to lean on the walls for support as his cane was still resting beside his armchair.

The girl was sitting on the floor, her back against the sofa and her legs outstretched. She had kicked off her shoes and had scattered what seemed to be half her backpack's contents on the floor next to her. When Gold entered the room, she looked up from the book she was reading.

"I thought you ran or had a heart-attack or something." She blew a violently pink bubblegum-bubble, which popped audibly and returned her gaze to her book.

Gold did not know how to respond or what to do. He fidgeted with the golden ring on his right hand nervously. It astounded him how this girl was completely at ease in his home, which hardly deserved the name, and even more so in his presence. There was no hint of fear or insecurity in her body language or voice. No awkward, shy glances or nervous little movements. Her calm however, made him a bundle of nerves. Plus, he hated bubblegum.

"Um, excuse me, but who do you think I am?" he asked.

She looked up again, marking her spot in the book with the index finger of her right hand.
"You are Rumplestiltskin." she said matter-of-factly.

"True." he said with an attempt at bravado "… and you are?"

"Ivy." She said without looking up this time, her eyes rapidly moving over the page.

What an insolent little thing, he thought. With those eyes there was no doubt who her mother was, but was she really his? And how did she know who he was; know his real name, know what he looked like? How had she found him here in New York? Why was she in New York? Where was her mother? His thoughts made Gold slightly dizzy. His brow was starting to sweat.

"How old are you?" he asked, still playing with his ring.

"Fifteen." Ivy looked at him again "Oh, and before you ask, my mother is Belle French." She paused, looking at his face curiously. He did not say anything. "Okay, maybe you should sit down. You're turning green" She chuckled.

Not really sure what he was doing or why he was doing it, Gold crossed the small room and sat down in his armchair. What was he supposed to do now? What was he going to do with the child? Where was her mother; where was … -he forced himself to think the name – Belle? Why had the child come to him? How had she come here?

"How did you…?" he began, but Ivy interjected quickly "Took the bus. "

"And your mother…?"

"Not on the bus." Ivy sassed.

"I see" said Gold, who was now wringing his hands in his lap and shooting side-ward glances at Ivy on the floor to his right. He cleared his throat.

"Say, I am Rumplestiltskin and that I believe what you are telling me, but what would you have done if I hadn't?"

Ivy marked her page and put the book down, then began rummaging in her backpack "If you had not believed me," she said "maybe this would have persuaded you."

To Gold's utter horror, she pulled out the dagger.