Secret longing

Rumplestiltskin

He was sat in the diner watching Miss Bouquin stab at her syrupy pancakes for the second day in a row when the little bell above the door rang, and Miss Swan walked in. She chose the table closest to the door, facing the rest of the diner's patrons, and shed her leather jacket and placed it over the back of the chair next to her. Mr Gold watched as the scantily clad wolf-waitress went over to take the blonde's order, the latter woman piking up the abandoned paper on the table. Quickly losing interest in the Saviour now that she wasn't actually doing anything, he turned his attention back to Miss Bouquin in her usual booth. He tapped his cane against the table leg as she attempted to save her pancakes from drowning, and noted how she watched Miss Swan out of the corner of her eye. He wondered why, it wasn't like she was doing anything for the young Librarian to be interested in. But the young Dark One was another matter entirely... but the chances of her remembering herself at such an early stage were so minuscule it wasn't even worth considering, and certainly not worth getting his hopes up for.

Then he saw Regina come in from the corner of his eye, Miss Bouquin almost losing her grip on her fork as the Mayor joined Miss Swan at her table. That was definitely questionable; why would Ellena be afraid of her? He watched the brunette for a moment, eyes racing over her features as they always did, before his attention joined hers at the table the door.

It was more than clear that tensions were only rising between the two women, Miss Swan's face showing irritation and upset as the Mayor leaned in to no doubt throw another insult. Then the brunette was up and out of the door and the blonde stood a moment later, perhaps to follow. Mr Gold stood as well, ready to approach Miss Swan and introduce himself. Then Miss Lucas was dashing over with a dishcloth, ready to rescue the ratty grey blouse Miss Swan had just ruined with her cocoa. And this woman is our Saviour he thought to himself. Since the young princess was off to the laundry room, and he could hardly follow her in there, he simply threw down enough bills to cover his half-eaten meal and stalked out, acting as though that had been his plan all along. He should have stayed seated, so he could watch Miss Bouquin finish her breakfast.

His day was spent in his shop, fixing up the spinning wheel that used to reside in the Dark Castle's Great Hall, and trying to figure out where all the lumpy wool in his spinning basket came from. He re-organised the shop some, hanging Miss Swan's mobile in pride of place and untangling the hair of Gepetto's marionette parents. All in all it was a pretty uneventful day; the Mayor had no complaints, Miss Bouquin didn't need the rent, and Miss Swan hadn't figured out where his shop was just yet. The dull, everyday quality ended after he closed up and walked to his old Cadillac across the street. An odd feeling danced up his spine, like the shivers he'd get back in the Enchanted Forest before he had a vision. He closed his eyes as he waited for the feeling of vertigo to pass, leaning heavily on his cane and kneading his temple. All was dark behind his eyelids before an image flashed briefly in his mind. Someone, in his shop... at the safe?... and turning. Miss Boyd? No, Cinderella...

All was dark again as he jerked to attention, his spine ramrod straight and a sense of urgency tingling at the back of his skull. He turned back to his shop, just in case, to see someone dart into his shop, the door gently swinging in the light breeze. He abruptly turned, spinning smartly on his heels, and returned to the pawnshop. Miss Boyd was no doubt after the contract, the result of Cinderella's dealings with him and Belle back in the Old World. Although in this realm 'Ellena' was the shady character, Gold was still the master deal-maker, and he drew up her most malicious contracts.

He slipped in the door, thankful that, for once, his little bell did not cry out. He stepped lightly into the middle of the shop and watched as Miss Boyd immediately reached for the middle portrait on the wall, where his safe was hidden. He positioned himself so he would be as intimidating as possible (old habits die hard, he supposed), and then made his presence known.

"Ashley. What are you doing?" He circled around towards her slowly, more than aware of his old war injury. For a moment the young woman glared at him, hatred evident in her cool blue eyes, and he saw her move her hand discretely in front of her body, rotating what it held. He suddenly had a very bad feeling. "Changing my life." The bad feeling was a good one, so to speak. Miss Boyd raised her weapon and pepper-sprayed him directly in the face. He stumbled back in shock and agony losing his grip on his cane, and collided with the display behind him, breaking several things and knocking others over. Hands to his face he rebounded off the cabinets and fell forwards, hitting his head off a sharp corner on his way down. Before he lost consciousness he lamented the disruption of his chessboard; for almost thirty years it had been frozen in play, waiting for the Dark One and her master to sit and play once more.

He was awoken hours later, how many he did not know, to a harsh stream of light cutting through the air and landing right in his eyes. He sat up, slowly, hand pressed to his head, to find himself lying upon the cold, unforgiving floor of his shop. Well that explains the crick in my back. Miss Boyd would certainly not be winning any 'Concerned Citizen of the Year' awards. He encountered a lump on his head and pressed a little harder; the return of last night's vertigo and a small trickle of blood told him that had been a very bad idea. He tried to push himself to his feet and failed, then shuffled over to his cane and tried again. Upon standing he picked up all he had knocked over, then painstakingly reset the chessboard as it had been before he sent half the pieces crashing to the floor. The game would continue when Belle had her memory back, assuming her feelings of hatred had not returned.

When the pawnshop was set to rights and he had figured out the best way to conceal his cut with his hair, so easy to maintain in this realm with all of these (manly) bath products, he set off for Miss Blanchard's apartment. Word on the street (so, word in Granny's Diner, according to one Miss Lucas who could not stop going on about it yesterday) was that Miss Swan was now staying there. He wondered if it went against the schoolteacher's rent agreement, and hoped Miss Bouquin wouldn't throw her out if it was. He knocked on the door rather impatiently when he arrived, uncomfortable in such a shabby building, and was glad when it was opened almost immediately.

"Miss Blanchard. Is Miss Swan here?" The brunette could only stare at him in surprise, but it didn't take long for a hand to pull the door open a little wider. The blonde stepped into the new space, and he offered his hand to the prophesied Saviour.

"Miss Swan. We meet at last. I'm Mr Gold."

"Yeah. So I've heard."

"Good." So nice to make an impression. "I've got a proposition for you Miss Swan. And I need your help. I'm looking for someone." Miss Blanchard only seemed more surprised, and she tilted her head back to accommodate her shock.

"Really? Uh..." Both of their gazes turned to the apartment's owner, still stood at the door, and the once-fearless queen made an excuse and scurried away. He watched her go, then turned back to her daughter.

"I have a photo." He passed it over, and for the next few minutes he worked on steadily bringing Miss Swan over to his side, acting concerned about his 'property'. He was disgusted with himself for referring to a child in such a manner, but 'Mr Gold' was not exactly known for being pleasant. He showed off his latest wound, and Miss Swan was his. She would find the young princess, he would get the child, and then he could work on placing it in a loving home. Preferably one where the parent/s would not dismiss it, since they 'could always have more children.' As their conversation came to a close, the door opened, and young Master Mills came in. He greeted the boy, but the conversation was strained. He closed the door on his way out.

The rest of his morning was, once again, depressingly uneventful. Most of it was spent discretely cleaning the windows of the shop (which he may have done the day before yesterday) and watching Miss Bouquin come and go from the Library. Miss Paravel (who he didn't recognize) entered the old building pretty early on and probably wouldn't leave until the evening, Ms Duzeem (who he didn't recognize) following soon after. Miss Bouquin left the Library at around noon, probably to head to Granny's, and presumably left Miss Paravel in charge. She ran into Dolores Boyd (who he, unfortunately, did recognize) on her way down the sidewalk, and after the woman passed her she did a double take and stopped, turning back to watch her rush off. The Scotsman leaned closer to the store's window to see if he could decipher her expression, but Miss Bouquin was too far away. All he saw was a hand briefly brushing across a stomach before she continued on her way, a plan no doubt forming in her mind to tackle whatever was concerning her. A wave of dizziness hit him, and his head hit the cool glass as another vision hit him. He could see this becoming very inconvenient. His Belle stood alone in a white room... he approaches her... is it the Hospital? he says something... it makes her shoulders droop... he thinks she might be about to cry... she leaves... He stood to attention once more, wondering what he was going to say to make his love cry as an eyesore of a yellow VW bug passed the shop.

Some time later, when he just happened to be hanging around near the window, the bug passed back the other way, and he could see Miss (Ashley) Boyd in the passenger seat. He set off to the Hospital almost immediately after it, barely registering Miss Bouquin passing him by in her blue mini cooper. He arrived at the Hospital rather quickly, and passed by Miss Bouquin once inside, who was talking with Doctor Whale. She noticed him as he continued down the hallways, and jogged to catch up with him. "Good afternoon Miss Bouquin."

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Mr Gold."

He closed his eyes briefly at her words, her voice and accent washing over him. This was the first time they had spoken since he had awoken.

"What brings you to the Hospital, dearie? Not sick are we?" He asked with concern, stopping just outside the Hospital waiting room, where he could see Miss Swan and her boy talking to each other.

"I'm here regarding our deal with Miss Boyd, actually."

"Ah. So am I. But you've never been that bothered about it before. Why now?"

She hesitated, watching as a nurse approached the Saviour. "I learned, recently, that I cannot have children; an unfortunate side effect of an... illness I contracted several years ago. Remembering Miss Boyd's deal gave me hope that all was not lost." She gave him her full attention then, her bright blue eyes piercing right into him, but he was rendered speechless. He had quite forgotten that the Dark One's Curse did not allow for children. She turned away from him, after a moment, the conversation clearly over, and he approached Miss Swan slowly. Throughout the day he had been waiting for Miss Swan to take on the price of Miss Boyd's deal herself; now he was desperately praying such a thing would not occur to her.

Unfortunately, their debate at the coffee machine resulted showed that Miss Swan was not going to back down. Miss Bouquin was not going to get the baby, and Miss Swan now owed him a favour. Once again his own son came above his Belle's happiness; guilt washed over him as he shook hands with the blonde, and as she and her son went to visit the new mother, he turned to Miss Bouquin, who was waiting on the sidelines. He knew she'd heard everything. "I'm terribly sorry Miss Bouquin. It seems Miss Boyd will be keeping her daughter."

She blinked at him. "It was a girl?" He could see the tears building before she turned away, and he tilted his head back to gaze at the ceiling. Another vision come true. He should have felt one step closer to his son, but instead he felt one step further from his love.

When he reached the parking lot ten minutes later, the blue mini was still there, and he could see a mess of curls resting against the steering wheel.


A/N It got worse.

Oops.