Cool fronds of frost glittered like freshly unearthed diamonds upon the world of Storybrooke in the first truly cold morning of the season. Ruddy crimson adorned the faces of those out in the refreshing chill to long, and thick coats were dug out of moth ball smelling closets with the thrill of cold. Milky opaque vapors billowed in thin streams from every smiling mouth out on the streets.
The cold came on hard and relentless, but the hearts of Storybrooke were light and warm as the summer's zephyrs. Odd talk and whispers warmed the belly of the townsmen light blistering suns rays. Rumors blazed in a veritable inferno about the town that Mr. Gold was finally dead!
Of course, many did not put much stock in the rumors or the hope filled voices of younger souls, but the fact that the leader of the Dark One's hadn't been seen in days poured hope into even the bleakest heart. And, some consoled, even if he wasn't a rotting carcass tossed somewhere in a ditch something, all knew, had occurred to the gang lord.
The thought, while just a small spark, stirred glee in even the grumpiest of souls. Smiles abounded on the streets in a silent merriment. Happiness glowed warmly in every heart and spurred pleasantness in the hardest of souls.
In the jubilation of everything, one might have thought the day was a hometown celebration.
Looking out through the bullet proof glass of the squat police station windows, a small smile twitched upon Emma's normally frowning lips. Her eyes roved over the bustling town leisurely, watching the townsfolk on their ways. Part of her was surprised someone hadn't erected a few floats celebrating the death of Mr. Gold, the reviled, the hated, the loathed. She almost expected children to be let out of school early and shops to close in the sheer joy of his demise. The thought of being free could provoke unusual actions in any heart, she knew well.
Relief sighed through her strong body as she padded vapidly to her awaiting chair. Her hand grabbed the tall mug of cocoa on her desk as she slid down in her seat. Leaning back in the rolling chair, the content deputy lifted her feet to the steel desk. Crossing her black boots at the ankle, she sniffed the aroma of the whipped cream heaped and cinnamon cocoa allowing the fragrances to overtake her.
Heavenly scents of warm chocolate mingled with the spicy aroma of cinnamon wafted through her senses. The cocoa had been a gift delivered from Ruby and she was determined to reward herself for dealing with the dangerous problem Mr. Gold.
"Bad news." Graham announced soberly as he entered the tiny police head quarters right as Emma began to take a tenuous sip. Agitated, he tossed down a sheaf of papers in a manila folder on her gray iron desks, his lips curving into an irksome frown.
A hint of wariness traced the deputy's lovely features as she straightened in the chair. Could there be no rest for even ten minutes?
Regret of a missed treat of hot cocoa sparkled in her lapis eyes as she pushed the mug away in favor of duty. "What's the problem?" Her alert gaze glanced at the papers half out of their manila folder.
"Apparently the rumors were wrong, Gold isn't dead." The sheriff revealed sourly, his body radiating fury. Dark frustration donned his handsome, rugged features with an inkling of disappointment at the awry news. He seemed akin to a hunter who just missed the killing blow upon a prey who now fled out of reach. "A tip just came in that claimed Mr. Gold was heading to his home. And a body has just been registered at the morgue belonging to one of Guy Stone's long time friends."
Black curses fell from Emma's curved lips in a litany of vulgar profanity that churned through her mind. Of all the darkest luck! Anger seethed in her soul turning her once cheerful mood bleak. Cheated rage danced in her orbs with the strength of an inferno. Gold had disappeared from his shop, but that hadn't been surprising to her. She had assumed vengeful gangs would take his body, or that someone in the Dark One's would collect his carcass to prevent any tracing of ill doing.
Now atop two bullets to the arm and another dead, he was alive and free and walking about causing more terror then before! Now people were apt to think even bullets couldn't bring him down!
"The bull precedes he reputation then." Emma spat caustically. Her mouth a dour line. How could he have survived?
Slumping tiredly into his dark leather chair, the sheriff allowed a sigh to cross his bearded lips. A calloused hand rubbed tiredly against his furrowed brow as he stared at the hefty piles upon his desk. "You told me he was dead, Emma." He reminded her expertly.
"I thought he was." The deputy admitted dourly. He certainly looked dying when she had left him there to his fate to bleed like a stuck pig.
"But how did you even know to make such an assumption?" His voice brimmed with curious suspicion.
Curses danced explicitly inside the blondes mind at his dubious words. Forcing herself not to flinch, her lips pulled into a wry half smile. "Just luck I guess." She dodged awkwardly.
"That's more than luck." Graham rebuffed darkly. Curiosity lingered in his wolf gray eyes like an arrow of accusation aimed at her heart. "You knew before the rumor surfaced didn't you?"
Caught, the blonde raised her hands defenselessly. "I did nothing to him." She swore. "I was there when he was shot and I… maybe just walked away." No remorse hedged her voice, only sorrow for getting caught at the deed.
"Emma." He groaned in long-suffering misery. Shutting his eyes tight, he tried to conceal his ire to her. "You were there when a person was shot and you didn't help?"
She shrugged carelessly, her heart cold. "This is Mr. Gold we're talking about."
"That doesn't matter." Debated the sheriff staunchly, his features stern and rebuking. "Do you know how that makes us look? We can't pick and choose whom we save. Your first duty was to help the injured."
An entire mess laid before him from her actions. Her one deed now sparked a downfall that had to be contended with. The mayor would have to be brought in and questions asked.
"My first duty is to keep the town safe!" Emma snapped back tartly, her eyes blazing blue flames. "Mr. Gold is the biggest threat, letting him die is keeping the town out of danger from him."
Shaking his head the handsome sheriff leaned dejectedly over the gray desk. "He'll spread word of this little by little. A rumor will will spark, laced with truth and others will distort what occurred. A plague will pop up out of this turning the entire situation info a fiasco that never was. They'll say you were paid off to walk away after he was shot. They'll say you're just in another rival gang. He'll make sure to smear your name that no one will trust you and hate the sheriff's station even more. He knows how to use situations like this; he knows how to use everything. "
A dark frown perched upon her lips as his logic seeped into her head like a foul ooze. As much as she loathed admitting his words, Graham was telling truth or at least instilling a vile dose of well need logic. Gold would manipulate the situation and help turn distrust and more disgust from the townsmen to those they sought to protect. The shot gangster would use hyperbole to the extreme and paint them just as different types of himself with a worse agenda in their hearts. The townspeople would be even more reluctant to report his ill deeds in making their jobs so much the harder.
Rubbing a hand across her features, the blonde sank dismally into her chair. True regret molded her features as she rubbed her temple with her fingertips. How could things be so complicated? "Okay you have a point, so what do we do now?"
"Now." Licking his lips sorrowfully, he turned to the barred windows of the tiny ill equipped station. Melancholy glittered in his gray eyes with what had to happen next. "Now, Emma I'm sorry, but I can't let a deputy stay on with this type of thing hanging over their head till the matter is cleared."
Abruptly, Emma bolted in her chair as though shocked. Taken aback, the blonde stared wide eyed at the sheriff, her eyes marred with disbelief. "You mean I'm off the force?"
"I can't just let you still hold that kind of power, Emma." Graham explained sadly. "As much as I hate to pull you, having you still here would be worse."
Shaking her blonde tresses as though coming out of an enchantment, the deputy calmed him. "I understand all that, but I think you finally just gave me a solution to our problem here."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Thin lines of consternation carved upon his brow.
"I've been working this all the wrong way." Emma mused to herself more than the sheriff. Focusing back to Graham, a small smile lined her stoic visage. "I do my best work as a bounty hunter. Some one who skims the edges of the law at all costs to bring in a wanted person. With the badge I was much more restricted, but now that I'm off the roster…."
Realization dawn on the sheriff like the first light to a dismally dark room. "You can get your hands dirty again." He concluded in a conspiratorial whisper.
Nodding, her smile widened from ear to ear in grim delight. Eagerness flashed like stars in her azure eyes. Plans ranged freely in her mind with her force unshackled. Things could get very dangerous, very fast. "That's my favorite way to play. Let's see how well Gold can stand up to me without the badge in the way."
~8~8~
Lovely warm evening rays of sunshine cascaded grandly through the large bay windows in Belle's new spacious living room. Motes of pale dust whispered through the air telling over a home newly occupied. The window seal was a large panel of oak wood and big enough for a person to sit comfortably to read upon in the sunshine. Plush dark red pillows edged the sides making the window look more than inviting.
The home Mr. Gold granted was massive to them. Warm russet hues painted on the walls and the burgundies of the homes comely furniture mingled well with the falls cold days. Appliances that looked right out the boxes filled the kitchen and the living room.
Part of the grateful beauty had assumed he would have given them a modestly decent apartment unit, but he had surprised them with a small home he owned a little ways out of the town proper.
Three large bedrooms rested in the back of the house, lavishly gilt with luxuries of blankets and thickly carved wardrobes. There was plenty of space in the rooms and she finally had a yard just as she always wanted. The home was a dream plucked from her tired mind and placed into reality. Everything about the house was lovely and huge and grand and welcoming.
"It's a nice little place." Moe remarked in a slight cough as he shuffled quietly along the wooden floors.
Laughter fell gaily from Belle's lips at the understatement of his unimpressed words. Humor and joy all mingled into one glorious orb of elation danced like bright swirling sparks in her eyes. Wrapping her arms around his thick neck she hugged him tightly. "This home is much more than that, Papa, it's a dream come true."
"All this because of some mistake in rent?" He pressed delicately broaching the tenuous issue. Though he was sickly and oft asleep or induced with medicine, even he could see something did not fit.
"Mr. Gold is a fair man." The beauty lied tactfully showing not a hint of indecision at her untruthfulness. The more he did not know to protect him from her foul deeds the better. There was no reason to bring her father into the occurrences of what happened and the how.
Opening his mouth, he began to protest, but snapped his mouth close. Who was he too ask questions when he could look away and take comfort in a soft bed and not worry of where his daughter slept. Belle no longer had to sacrifice for simple necessities or sleep on an old, lumpy couch. No, he determined inwardly, he would not question too closely.
Abruptly a shrill, muffled ring penetrated the tranquil, glad quiet. Digging the sleek black phone of her pocket, the beauty strode quickly out of hearing rang from her papa.
"Mr. Gold?" Her voice was a tenuous whisper as she put the phone to her ear. Instinctively checking her surroundings out of habit, she tucked away into a shadowed corner. He hadn't called in a week, something she hoped would mean he was recuperating well.
"Eight o'clock." His heavily accented voice declared neatly. "62nd Mountain lane."
Silently detailing the instruction to heart, the beauty listened calmly without a hint of trepidation. After her first month she learned all to well he would only offer explanation when the fact suited him.
Turning a corner the beauty made certain her father was well away. "Anything else?" Her voice dropped to a clandestine whisper.
"Wear something… nice." He replied at length, the words almost uncertain coming from his lips.
In all her experience with the gang lord, that took her off guard.
Surprise flickered faintly upon her lovely visage as she repeated the words in her mind. Shaking her head from the strange words she focused on the matter at hand. "Alright, anything else I should know?"
"Jefferson will be there to pick you up. Don't be late." He finished softly.
Before she could inquire further, the phone clicked dead. A steady dial tone hummed from the speaker, coaxing her thoughts down the trail of utmost confusion.
Leaning against a wall, the beauty allowed a sigh to escape her lips. She had just gotten used to his orders. Now what new command was he tossing her? And, she could not help but ponder, what was on 62nd Mountain Street?
~8~8~
His home, Belle screamed frantically in the depths of her bright soul! He had invited her to his home!
Staring on the window, the beauty gaped in awe of the salmon pink manse belonging to the austere gang lord.
Stately and grand, there was only one person in all of Storybrooke the home could have belonged to. Tucked behind a grove of knobby cedars and plaintive pines the home stood away from the main roadway against prying eyes. Any cars that descended the rocky road trail were soon enough hid effectively by the low, thickly clustered coppices and the distance away from the street.
The house was painted an odd dull pink hue that was infamous in the county. Lights lit the downstairs, but the upstairs of the massive home was black as a towers dungeon room. The lawn was meticulous to the stalk, but bereft of any trees or shrubbery or ornament of any kind. White marble steps led up to the purple door of his home, giving his entrance the main attention through all the strangeness.
The wheels of Jefferson's sedan slowly crunched to a halt as he parked at the front entrance of the fiend's grandiose home. Dressed in his normal black velvet jacket and hat, he looked the figure or a long ago coachman maneuvering a carriage.
"Here we are, Miss French." Jefferson announced madly to his passenger, his lips arched into a small grin.
Opening the door with one hand and the mirror at the visor with the other, the beauty fiddled a bit with her hair for last minute touch ups. "Thanks, Jefferson." She replied absently, her mind dwelling on other notions as she plucked at a few rebellious chestnut strands.
Turning to him suddenly, a look of questioning danced warily in her azure depths. Worry traced nearly imperceptible lines in her lovely visage as she clutched the black wrap about her shoulders. "Do you know what this is all about?"
"Not in the least." A mischievous grin lined his face betraying he knew exactly what was occurring.
Rolling her eyes exasperatingly, she dipped out of the car. He would not betray what Mr. Gold had in mind for all the money in the world, not when there was too much fun to be had. "Much help you are. Jefferson."
"You know, Belle." He leaned to the passenger seat to look at her out the door. His eyes glimmered with a hint of sanity and melancholy all at once. "I'm a taken man, but I have to say you look absolutely beautiful tonight."
Fire surged to her porcelain cheeks with his observation. She was not a vain woman by any means but hadn't dressed so nicely in what seemed like eons. Everything once revolved around working hard and long enough to make ends meet. She hadn't time to look lovely when there was much to be done to keep her and her pap afloat.
A smile faintly traced her lips at his kind words. "Thanks, Jefferson."
Nodding succinctly, the hatter once more slipped into his insane gaze. Winking roguishly, he put the car back in gear.
Closing the door, the car sped off down the graveled lane like a roaring monster from nightmare, leaving Belle alone under the shadow of the gang lord's home.
Calm washed over the beauty as she took a moment to gather herself. Eyes pinioned upon the manse she allowed courage to well in her heart. No matter what he had planned she could handle anything he doled out.
Filling her lungs with the cold Maine air, the beauty briskly tramped up the steps. Her hand curled to knock on the door right as the portal swung vapidly open, and for a moment, caught in the interim of surprise, both gazed at the other. Astonishment filled their eyes as they stared at one another as though seeing them for the first time.
To Belle, the notorious gang lord looked even better dressed than he normally did if such a fantastic thing was possible. An older pin suit of dark blue donned is sinewy frame showing off an elegance of time gone by. Gold cufflinks in the shape of arrows glinted on his wrists. His age only helped define his natty suit and bring a strange romantic quality to him.
For the gang lord he could not stop staring. Her form entranced him like a hypnotic spell grasping for domination of his brain. A small black dress hung skin tight to her body. The dress had to be painted on, he surmised in amazement, for there seemed no way a dress could fit so well to the contours of a body.
The silky fabric established every curve, but not in a gaudy fashion of tight clothing for the sake of strutting about like a strumpet he saw on the streets. A black clutch looped lightly about her right wrist. Her hair tumbled freely down her back in a mass of amber honey curls that seemed to hold sunshine even in darkness.
She dressed simply at yet wondrously.
"You look." They both began simultaneously, their words breathless as their eyes searched one another.
Nervousness smiles clambered to their lips with the sudden embarrassment. Did the evening have to start off so awkward?
Gathering her courage, the beauty smiled softly to the gang lord. "You look very handsome Mr. Gold." She complemented sweetly.
A smile tilted his lips. "And you, Dearie look utterly ravishing." Shaking his head as though just recalling something, he moved from the door and proffered his hand to the inside. "Won't you come in from the cold?"
Warm, dully glowing light assailed the beauty as she stepped into the massive house of Mr. Gold. The foyer was in itself was an exquisite place. Vases stood on pedestals and thick exotic rugs lined the floors. Crystal, or perhaps real diamonds, glittered off a chandelier above her making the light twinkled down softly.
Fragrant scents of chicken and herbs and flavorful sauces lingered on the warm air. In one of the rooms a softly glowing fire guttered lowly in the hearth making the home seem much more inviting than on the outside.
Clearing her throat lightly, the beauty fiddled with her purse anxiously, unable to meet his eyes. "I have to ask what's tonight about. Your call was so strange."
"I just wanted to say thank you." The fiend replied casually, his words easy and free of trepidation he more than felt brewing like a summer squall inside his black heart. "So I thought a nice dinner was in order."
"You cooked?" Astonishment gingerly hedged her gentle voice.
Dry almost sad laughter escaped the gang lord's lips. "When you're in this business, you learn to cook for yourself mostly. You become suspicious of everything, especially with people that hate you." Merriment danced like flames in his eyes as he motioned down the hall. "But don't worry, I'm a fairly decent cook. You won't choke on my food." He promised in a chuckle.
Dim light filtered down over them as he led her through the large manse. Trinkets lined the walls and each room looked as luxurious as the next.
As they turned a corner where the flavorful scents hailed, Belle stared at the grand room. The rich heavily craved cheery table sat in the epicenter of the room like an oblong eye. The top was covered with a cream colored cloth and heaped with heavenly smelling foods. Dishes emblazoned with gold and looked to cost a fortune sat ready and waiting to be served.
There were so many forks, she had no idea in which to start with. Tall candles lodged in silver holders gave off soft, relaxing light to the otherwise dim room. An ice bucket sat next to the table filled with a few bottles that looked older than the fine china awaiting their use.
"Do you drink?" He inquired curiously as they turned and entered his grand dining room.
"A little." Belle responded softly, taken by the lovely table and the ambiance the room imbued to her senses.
Limping over to a silver ice bucket, he lifted a green bottle from the cold. "Good." He looked over the faded brown label. "Then we'll have the 1905 red then."
Staring at the table, the beauty could not help but feel shocked. Amazement graced her features mingled with disbelief and the grander. "You did all this for me?"
"You saved my life, Miss French." He pulled out a chair for her, his lips perched into a smile. "I do not take those things lightly."
A deep scarlet she could not suppress tinted her cheeks as she sat down gracefully. "Well everything looks lovely." She replied having no other words to speak. He was grateful, she knew frankly, but how far did his thankfulness go?
Staring down at the table, she turned her attentions to what she should tackle first. Chicken encrusted with breadcrumbs sat in a dish while some sauce and vegetables sat in others with a smorgasbord to chose from. Half the day had been spent unpacking to their new home and she was famished. Now with the food in front of her, she found her mouth almost watering.
Pointing to a covered dish he busied himself pouring the dark red wine in his glass and then hers. "Try the gray stuff, it's delicious."
The flickering candle light glittered of her skin as she moved for the silver dish. A strange, but pleasant odor wafted from the concoction making her stomach rumble its need. As she was about to dish out the heavenly smelling food, something else caught her attention.
The thing sat at the very edge of her vision like the hint of a dream, but drew her like a coaxing sirens song. Curiosity laced her lovely features as she turned her head to a large glass case nestled in a corner of the room. At the very top of the display case set a blue and white cup on a cushion of blue velvet. The tea cup was delicately painted blue and white porcelain, but chip missed from the gilded rim.
"That chipped cup." The beauty murmured lowly to herself. Something niggled in her heart at the sight of the little ornament like an old reminiscence.
"Pardon Dearie?" The fiend turned his head up to her from his meal.
Shaking her head, she swiveled her head back to him. A look of perhaps a long forgotten memory shivered through her mind. "That… that cup where did you get it?"
"I'm not sure." He sawed gingerly at the chicken on his plate. "Seems like I've had the thing forever. I like it, the chip gives it personality."
Consternation ridged her brow as she turned back to her plate. Chewing delicately she spoke quietly. "That's odd. Feel's like I've seen it before."
Tactfully hiding his surprise, the fiend bit into his chicken thoughtfully. He had also had the feeling of knowing what the cup was when he'd come across the trinket in the back of his shop. The cup had been carefully tucked away in a small box with a golden lock.
A note written in red flamboyant, neat script laid rolled into the dredges of the cup. Tear stains sat upon the parchment almost as though they had been made that day. The yellowed, aged paper once read only three words: "Never forget her."
He had long lost the note, but the chipped cup kept an interest in his mind.
There had been something oddly familiar about the tea cup and he too felt drawn to the chipped trinket. "The cup was at my shop before I put it here." He softly offered explanation.
Nodding faintly, the beauty focused back on the gang lord. Maybe she could take a closer look later.
"So how are you and your father settling in?" The gang lord expertly changed the subject from the strange trinket.
Belle nodded between bites. "Very well. There is so much space. More space than I ever thought of having."
"I'm glad you enjoy." A soft, genuine smile etched his lips.
Taking a delicate sip of the fine, aged wine the beauty motioned her hand around the room. "Since we're talking about houses you have a very nice one. People always claimed this place was the biggest one in all Storybrooke. I think the rumors were true."
"I wanted my home like that." He remarked through chicken filled mouth.
Brow perched the beauty picked delicately at her plate. "Plans for a big family?"
Sorrow slashed the fiend's features at her words. Shaking his head, he forced the melancholy away. "No. I don't have any family. Not anymore."
"Oh." Belle flickered her indigo eyes away from his sorrow. Cursing herself on the inside, the beauty kicked herself from her curious fascinations. Remorse glimmered in her eyes as she turned back to him. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have asked."
He gestured his hand to her, his eyes dispelling any notion of offense. "Everything's alright. I wanted the house because the size displays my power."
"Is power everything to you?" She queried lowly, her eyes searching him. Did all his life revolve around being the master of others? Did he only care for riches and gain and nothing else, nothing of the heart or soul?
"Everything." He echoed bleakly in reply. Carefully leaning back in his chairs, his fingers pinched the stem of the wine glass. His maple brown eyes stared back at her softly, showing a rare hint of the man behind the gang lord.
Perhaps there was more, but nothing he was courageous in allowing to slip from inside his stony heart.
When she was about power was the farthest thing from his mind. The notion of controlling the underground world of crime seemed akin to a child's fantasy. She coaxed out of him a strange desire for more than to attain just ultimate control.
Sipping at the cool wine, he never took his eyes off her, his heart absorbed in her beauty. "Yes power is everything… mostly."
