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Summary: She drops the cup on purpose. Skin Deep A/U Drabble
"You were unsure which pain is worse—the shock of what happened or the ache for what never will." –Simon van Booy
"Such hostility?" the queen taunted. She had what she came for—the names and knowledge were all out in the open now. What she did not have was any further use for her one rival.
"Oh yeah," Mr. Gold (Rumpelstiltskin) growled, as he watched her gingerly rummage through her purse.
"Over this? Such a sentimental little keepsake." She said, as she toyed with the chipped cup, right in front of him, just out of reach. He was just about to grab for the icon (he did worship it as such), when the queen let go.
He watched the delicate porcelain teacup, carried through too many years and too many lifetimes, shatter to little more than dust. He did not hear the shatter; he heard no sound, except his heartbeat.
"Oops, how very clumsy of me." She said words, giving him a half smile.
His hands clenched around the bars, as he tried to blink the white rage from his eyes. Through gritted teeth he told her, "You'll pay for that."
"A simple accident? Let's not take this too far, Rumpel,"
"No one, no one, breaks deals with me, dearie, not even you, your majesty." He wondered if this was what it felt like when he said those words so very long ago to another deal-breaker, but one who's only crime was a lot of ignorance and a little narcissism (she could have found her own way to that ball if she'd tried, but had been too crowed; the little bitch didn't even consider who would pay for her use of magic first and then twice. She was always running away from payday). This time though, the difference was… personal.
The words felt like hell. He felt like hell.
He took two steadying breathes, even as he felt the queen's eyes take measurement of him, and returned to sitting on the cot—his human leg wasn't quite up to the task of standing and thinking as hard as he had to right now, what with her… distraction and all.
His eyes kept darting back to the pile of powder and porcelain pieces.
"So, now that we're being honest with each other. Let's remember how things used to be, shall we? And don't let these bars fool you, dear, I'm the one with the power around here." He wanted to remind her what was afoot—who he was and just exactly what he was capable of. "I'm going to be out of here in no time, and nothing between us will change." He looked her dead in the eye, "And I promise you, when I do get out, I'm going to make you pay."
The queen in all her glory stood, straightening her suit jacket. "No, you won't." She walked past, crunching porcelain underfoot. "Things have changed, Rumpel, and I'm on top this time around."
"You're right," he said as she was almost to the door. "Things have changed." Regina stopped, but did not turn around. Her nobility forbade such a demeaning action, though he can see in the crease of shoulders how desperately she'd like to. "This time, you've nothing left with which to pay. You care little for the boy, even the loss of your revenge would not be… sufficient a sacrifice. I suppose, that means I can just cut to the chase, as they say."
Finally the Mayor-in-this-life turned. "What are you going on about?"
"I'm talking about my plans to end you."
She scoffed. "Oh, that's rich coming from the biggest coward in not one but two worlds."
"A coward I may be, but a liar I'm not, and you know it."
She stiffened her lip and put a hand to her hip. She would have looked threatening to anyone else, but he's seen her heart (years and lives) and the way she killed it over and over again, and powers or no, he's not afraid anymore. "I'm going to kill you, Regina. And when I do, it'll be with my own two hands. I can rest assure you of that."
"We shall see."
