STORYBROOKE – Now
He didn't set out to stalk her. The fact that he kept crossing paths with her was purely coincidence. Really. But his instincts screamed that something was off with the whole plan, and the fact that Wendy kept appearing as he tracked down what was happening made every protective urge jump to attention.
She strode with purpose, the boy nipping at her hills; today she had on a pair of black pants that hugged the curves of hips, slim waist evident beneath the cardigan. He tried not to think of her, straddling him, body rising and falling with each … Shutting down that line of thought, he dragged his eyes back to Gold's storefront where the man moved around the front room. From his vantage point behind the small storage shed next to the town's gazebo, he waited, but not patiently.
"But Ms. Davies, he needs our help." Henry kept pace as Wendy walked down the sidewalk, tote bag full of paperwork bumping her leg. "I know he's a good man, but Mr. Gold is very powerful …"
"Henry." Wendy used her best teacher voice on the excited boy. "Let's sit down for a minute, okay?" She crossed the grassy area and sat her bag and purse on the white bench of the gazebo. Slipping off her heels after she took a seat, she rubbed her aching feet together, taking a deep breath before she looked at Henry. "Your book, it's not just stories, okay? It's our lives."
"I'm not going to tell anyone," Henry exclaimed earnestly.
"I know that. But Killian and I, well, we need to handle this on our own. I'm not a princess to be saved, and he's certainly not the same as Charming. Our story is more complicated." She bent her head down to look intently at the boy. "Ours isn't a fairytale."
"More of an adventure story like Treasure Island! You fought sirens and survived storms and mermaids and angry fairies …" Henry paused to take a breath.
"Sometimes real life is even more dangerous," she broke in. "And I need you to let this go. Let us take care of it. You've got Regina and Emma, Mary Margaret and David now in your life, and you need to focus on them."
"But … but …. You love him. And he loves you," Henry protested. "Love can conquer everything."
"I'm sorry, Henry, but love is not always enough."
They'd settled with their backs to him, close enough for him to hear every word. It annoyed him to be compared in any way with that black hearted Long John Silver; the man had no redeeming qualities at all. And he certainly agreed with Wendy that the kid needed to ease off on the meddling. But the conversation was taking an uncomfortable turn; what, he wondered, was in that stupid book the kid kept talking about? How like a child to believe that love could defeat a monster like Rumplestiltskin or a woman like Cora.
"True love's kiss saved my life." Henry was adamant. "If you love him, you should just tell him. I know that will make things better. You do love him, don't you?"
Wendy's heart did a little flip, and she tamped it back down. "Henry. You don't just ask people things like that."
The afternoon sun caught the highlights in her hair, and his eyes were drawn to her profile; pink lips curved up on the edges, as if she was amused by the question. Without even realizing it, he held his breath as she spoke, not sure what answer he wanted to hear. He couldn't afford any weakness and love, not matter what the boy thought, was nothing but a chink in his armor. It had made him weak before, cost him a hand and his heart, left him with nothing. He couldn't … wouldn't … let himself be that vulnerable again.
"But you do. You have to. That's why your story is in the book."
"Listen to me, Henry. Love isn't always the answer. There are very valid reasons …" she began.
"You mean Milah, Mr. Gold's …." Henry interrupted her.
"Henry Mills." She spoke sharply, and his eyes widened at her tone. "You cannot tell other people's secrets. We get to decide that on our own. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Ms. Davies." The boy's shoulders slouched, and she felt sorry for him. He truly just wanted to help.
"Things don't always work out the way we want," she spoke softly. "Just because you love someone doesn't mean they return that love … or are even capable of loving at all." She tucked his unruly hair behind his ear. "Now, you need to go to your riding lessons and learn how to be the grandson of a Prince." Henry's feet dragged, but he got up to go, and she shooed him down the stairs, off in the direction of the stables.
His heart had frozen at the mention of her name; he rubbed his sleeve over the tattoo, the constant reminder of what was taken from him. Rumplestiltskin stepped into the open door of his shop, talking to an older man, at ease in public as if nothing worried him. So close, Killian could have hit him with a crossbow bolt, but he needed to find out exactly what was going on before he fileted the bastard; Wendy and Henry were in full view of the men, and he couldn't risk it.
The whimper caught her attention as she stood, lost in her memories; at first she thought she'd dreamed it up, but then it was louder, coming from behind the white lattice around the bottom of the gazebo. Slipping on her shoes and following her ears, she circled around until she saw a broken section; kneeling down, she peered under the wooden platform.
A white and brown ball of fluff cried piteously, paw caught in between two slats; beside it, two other pups mewled from a black garbage bag, side ripped open, but top still tied. Reaching in, she freed the pup and dragged it out by the scruff of its neck. No more than a few weeks old, the puppy's eyes were open beneath the scraggly fur; an open scratch bled sluggishly on its front leg.
"Well, who are you? Did someone abandon you here?" Wendy sat him down and reached under for the other two; she tucked them in the pockets of her sweater. The wounded puppy was wandering off, and she followed around the corner of the shed.
"Looking for this?"
He startled her; her first thought was to wonder what he was doing there. And then it struck her that he could have heard every word of the conversation with Henry. Even the discussion about love.
"Lurking? Why am I not surprised?" She covered the momentary panic with a smart comment. "Are you following me, Killian? I'm flattered." The pup squirmed in his hand, wanting down; she took the ball of fur and stroked it soothingly.
"Sorry, love, but it's just coincidence." He shrugged, the very image of nonchalance. "Just getting the lay of the land."
From her position she could see the street clearly, and Mr. Gold and DA Spenser were still talking. Killian was a good liar, but not that good. "Do you want to know what they're talking about?"
"No." His eyes hardened as he bit out the answer. "You will not do it, Wendy. Go home. Now."
"Excuse me, but this is dry land, and you have no authority over me, Killian Jones." He'd pissed her off with his command. "I can help you, and I will." She turned, but he circled her wrist with his hook, pulling her back to him.
"I won't have you put yourself in danger for me." For a moment, there was something there, something in his eyes, something she wanted to believe more than anything. But then it was gone, the pirate back in control. "These are ruthless people who won't hesitate to kill you if it benefits them. People like me."
"Not like you," she answered, leaning in for a quick brush her lips to his. "You'll never be mistaken for a prince, but you're not as black-hearted as you like to pretend."
"Don't kid yourself, Wendy. I'll be the first to throw you overboard if necessary. Wouldn't be the first time either."
"Keep telling yourself that, Killian. You might eventually believe it." With that as her parting shot, she pulled free and walked back to the gazebo; two squirming pockets full of pups and one in her hand made picking up her things difficult. She balanced them all on one shoulder as she started across the street, making sure the two men could see her struggle. The animal shelter was just a couple blocks over, and she had to pass right by them.
"Ms. Davies, it seems you have a handful there," Mr. Gold spoke first, smiling at the antics of the puppies trying to free themselves.
"Yes, yes, I do," she laughed. "Can you imagine that someone abandoned these sweethearts under the gazebo? Wrapped them up in a garbage bag and left them. This little guy got hurt trying to escape." She held out the one in her hand.
Gold reached for the pup, examining the wound. "Nothing that a quick trip to the vet won't fix. You're taking them to the shelter I assume? May I help? Mr. Spenser and I are quite finished here."
"I'm warning you Gold. This is not over. I will have my way." Albert Spenser had always been an asshole, Wendy thought, and now that she knew who he had been, that only confirmed her assessment of his character.
"We're done, Albert." There was finality to Gold's statement that made the other man's face flush red. "Here, let me carry some of your bags for you. Teachers have so many papers to grade, don't they?"
"Are you Henry's teacher?" Spenser asked, no, more like demanded. A shiver of fear ran down Wendy's spine at the thought of this man having any interest in Henry.
"Not this year. Henry's in a different grade now." She passed over tote bag to Mr. Gold, jostling the pup in her right pocket enough for it to make noise. "Oh, hush now, we're going to take care of you." Dipping her hand around the wiggling bodies, she snuggled both up to her chin, making little noises of comfort. Spenser seemed disgusted by the display.
"We're not finished, Gold." He stalked to his car and drove off.
"I don't think our district attorney likes puppies," Wendy laughed.
"No, indeed." She saw the questioning look in his eye.
"I take care of my boys, Mr. Gold. No one bothers them." Setting a slow enough pace for Gold to match with his cane, she headed down the sidewalk.
"I imagine you do, Wendy dear." His smile had a cold edge, toothy and wide, for a moment, just like a crocodile. Then he looked at the puppies, and his face changed became softer and more genuine. "I think I know someone who would love to give one of these charmers a good home. She doesn't like living alone, and the library could use a mascot."
His heart in his throat, he watched as the woman and the man who haunted his dreams laughed together, and he could almost feel the hand in his chest, the pain of being ripped apart, the cold slice of the blade. At least now, there were threads to pull: why was King George interested in Henry? And what was he arguing about with Rumplestiltskin? But most of all, how the hell was he going to keep Wendy safe now that Gold knew exactly who she was?