A/N: And here's another chapter. This takes up most of the rest of Skin Deep. As always, read, review and ENJOY! Also I've changed the genre of this story from Romance/Drama to Romance/Angst. Just a heads up. If you all were expecting a more easy going tale, you're in the wrong place. I've not written much further than this chapter yet, but I know where I want to take it and it's not gonna be super intense exactly, but it won't be very happy for a while either.

Gold had tried not to think too much about Emma after their last encounter. He still felt a little guilty that he hadn't warned her more about what Regina had planned. But then again, she was insistent that she didn't want his help. Though while he tried not to think about her, that didn't mean he hadn't.

But until he turned, gun ready to fire, to see her standing mimicking his own defensive position he had in fact temporarily put thoughts of her out of his mind. After the whole thing with Mr. French and then speaking with Regina, his mind was as far from Emma as could be. When angry, his thoughts rarely contained Emma. But he was still angry and seeing Emma didn't even quell that feeling.

Her stubbornness was starting to get to him and he found it incredibly irritating. He didn't understand why she was so reluctant to come anywhere near him. It seemed rude almost. That was, until he remembered who he was in this town and who he really was. She was right to want to stay away from him. But with how much he was beginning to feel for her, it hurt a bit more than he was willing to admit. And so with his hurt in the background of his mind and his anger at the front, he was less than pleased to see her in his home.

"Sheriff Swan," he ground out in greeting, not lowering his weapon.

"Your neighbor saw your front door open. They called it in," she explained, also not lowering her gun, her tone terse and uninviting. The pregnancy thing still had her rattled and it was screwing with her head.

"It appears I've been robbed."

"Funny how that keeps happening to you," she said, not at all sounding like she found it funny in the slightest. Still, neither of them lowered their weapons. And yet, neither seemed to be alarmed by this at all. Though a small part of Emma wasn't too pleased at the thought that the father of her unborn child would so readily aim a gun at her, especially since seeing that she wasn't the person who'd broken in.

"Yeah, well," he began, his voice low and scratchy, "I'm a difficult man to love." And then he finally lowered his gun.

The words hit Emma like an ice-cold bucket of water. It wasn't that she even considered what her feelings were in regards to him as love, but hearing the word out loud, from his mouth, talking about himself, it rattled her. And the first thing that came to her mind was: not that difficult. And she wanted to kick herself. Thank god she didn't say it out loud.

But still, even to think it was preposterous. She was not in love with him. A strong infatuation and certainly lust, yes, but love? No. No, definitely not love. And she was going to try her damndest to make sure it didn't progress to that either. The last thing she needed right now was to start falling in love with him. Feelings were one thing; love was a whole different thing entirely.

She too lowered her gun and looked at him. "Right, well, seeing as how I'm Sheriff and all, thanks to you," she said pointedly, but it wasn't actually in a thankful sort of tone, "looks like I'm gonna have to check the place out." Her tone was dry and morose. She really didn't want to walk around his house and remember the last time she had been in it, though her eyes did flicker back to the front door and she couldn't help but conjure an image of herself slamming the man before her into it and kissing him.

His voice interrupted her musings and she turned back once more to look at him. "No, you can go now. I know exactly what was taken and who did it," he stated firmly as he stood there with his cane out in front of him, both hands resting on it. "I've got it from here."

She rolled her eyes at him as she fiddled with her phone. "No, you don't," she said, moving a bit towards him as she spoke. "This was a robbery. Public menace. And if you don't tell me what you know, I'll have to arrest you for obstruction of justice," she stated just as firmly as he had. There was no playful tone to her voice. Not today. She had too much going on for that right now.

"I have a feeling you don't wanna be behind bars," she added, looking at him. She found it strange how easy it was to look him in the eyes, knowing what she knew. But just being around him disarmed her so; it was almost like magic, if she believed in that sort of thing.

Though she wasn't going to let her defenses down too much. The way he was talking was like he was going to take things into his own hands and she didn't like that at all. A man who set a building on fire just to get someone else elected to Sheriff; well, no doubt he'd go a bit too far to retrieve something someone had stolen from him.

"Indeed not," he retorted, his lips pulled tightly. He was furious, though hiding it well for the moment. But what Mr. French had taken from him was very dear to him, a token of his lost love, Belle.

Just because he had feelings for Ms. Swan didn't mean he had gotten over what had happened between him and Belle, though he and Emma had gotten much farther than he and Belle had. That was beside the point. Belle had been one of two women he had let into his heart after Milah. The other he didn't like to think about. But Belle, he had fond memories of Belle, regardless of how he had pushed her away at the end.

Emma quirked a brow at him, wondering if he was going to tell her what he knew or not or if she was going to have to get it out of him the hard way. But he sighed loudly and she was sure her answer was coming.

"All right, his name's Moe French. He sells flowers. He recently defaulted on a loan. A short time ago, we had a little disagreement over collateral."

Well that was easier than I expected.

"Okay. I'll go get him, check him out."

"I'm sure you will, assuming I don't find him…"

He just couldn't help himself. It wasn't that he didn't have confidence that Ms. Swan would be able to track him down. But this was personal. He wanted to handle Mr. French himself and make him pay for what he had done to Belle. To him it didn't matter that he hadn't meant to do anything wrong, nor that he didn't currently remember what he did. He just wanted him to pay.

He laughed darkly before continuing, Emma giving him an odd look. She hadn't heard him laugh like that before. It didn't exactly scare her, but it made her uneasy.

"Let's just say bad things tend to happen to bad people."

"Is that a threat," she asked, not showing even a tiny bit of her unease.

He furrowed his brow at her as he turned to face her. "Observation," he deadpanned.

She said nothing as she looked at him and made to leave his home, only looking back at him briefly as she reached the door and heard him tell her good luck. It was an entirely insincere sentiment and she knew that so she didn't say anything to him in return. But she was determined to find this guy.

Truthfully she was a little pissed on Gold's behalf that someone tried to steal from him, not that she would admit that, of course. But she also needed to find him because she was a little worried what Gold might do to him if she didn't. She may not think of him as a terrible, monstrous guy or anything exactly, but she was no fool. He wasn't a guy to mess with and this Moe French guy had really pissed him off. It was best for everyone involved if she found him as soon as possible.

Not but a few hours later, Ms. Swan had called him up and told him to come to the station to collect his things. He was a bit surprised, really, that she'd managed it that quickly. He had a relative amount of faith that she would find Mr. French and his things eventually, but he didn't think it would be the very same day. And he was a bit disappointed. He had been looking forward to beating the shit out of Mr. French.

He was entirely frustrated with the entire situation. There was more to this than Mr. French just wanting to get back at him, of that he was certain. And he suspected Regina was behind it and it rattled his bones to the core. He would like nothing more than to throttle the both of them, one after the other. There was so much tension and anger building inside of him. And it only grew when he looked at the desk full of his things and the one thing he had actually been worried about was the only thing she hadn't recovered.

"You're welcome," she stated to him proudly. Though he felt she had nothing to be proud about. She hadn't gotten the one thing that mattered to him. She didn't know that of course, but it irritated him just the same, the smug way she spoke like she had done something so grand. She had failed as far as he was concerned.

"You were right," she continued, "Your man Moe ripped you off. It was all still at his place," she added as she plopped down in a chair at the desk. The action irritated him greatly. She really did think she was all done with her work. He'd thought better of her. Pity. His anger was continuing to grow with every passing second.

"And the man himself?" He asked bitterly. She didn't really notice. She was busy feeling proud of herself that she'd gotten Gold's things back already.

"Closing in on him," she answered.

"So, job well-half done, then," he retorted not even looking at her.

"In less than a day, I got everything back," she replied, her tone sounding frustrated. She had actually thought this would've been a good thing, that he would've been happy, perhaps even proud of her.

God, had she really been that stupid to think that? She had. She actually thought he would be proud of her for it. She'd even gone so far as to think that while they had possibly celebrated a bit that he'd gotten his things back so quickly she might actually tell him about her being pregnant.

The notion was laughable now. He wouldn't even look at her really. And the more she spoke with him, and the more guarded he seemed, the less she thought it was a good idea to tell him at all until she absolutely had to or he guessed it himself.

"Is something wrong?" She asked, her tone still irritated, even more so now, perhaps.

"You've recovered nothing," he answered dangerously, his eyes flickering up to meet hers. She didn't like it when he looked at her that way. He looked repulsed. Was it at her, or this Moe guy? She didn't know. She hoped it wasn't about her and didn't really think it was, but still him looking at her that way didn't sit well with her at all, not after everything she'd found out that morning. "There's something missing," he added and immediately moved to leave the station, not a word uttered in parting.

"I'll get it when I find him," she called after him, causing him to stop briefly.

"Not if I find him first," he growled out through clenched teeth and then kept going, leaving the station for good this time. She just looked after him, a confused and concerned look on her face. She didn't really want to think about what sort of state Mr. French would be in if she didn't find him before Gold did.

Unfortunately that wasn't the case. Why should she have expected things to go as she had planned? Luck was really not on her side lately. But even so she wasn't exactly prepared for what she saw when she walked into the cabin in the woods. Gold was sitting backwards on a chair shouting at Moe, beating him to a near pulp with his cane.

Without a seconds hesitation, no fear at all that he would hurt her if she got too near, she reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him from hitting the man cowering on the floor in fear once more. "Stop," she commanded him her voice firm, her hand holding his arm forcefully.

Neither the look in her eyes nor the tone of her voice held any note of fear. It was all concern. This was clearly about something more than this man having stolen something from him. He looked more emotional than she had ever seen him. She'd seen him vulnerable looking and sad, but this, this was something completely different. This was a completely broken man.

He turned to look at her and she was shocked by the look on his face. There was anger there, yes, not just that she'd stopped him, but at the man he'd been beating as well, but there was also a sadness she'd never seen in him before. He truly looked broken. Slowly she let go of his arm, looking at him a bit sadly.

Turning his eyes away from hers, he stepped away from the chair and walked a few feet away, turning his back on her. She watched him closely, though she was sure he wasn't going to try anything, and she pulled out her phone to call for an ambulance.

The few minutes it took for the ambulance to arrive passed in silence. The only sounds were the labored breathing from the man on the floor and a few deep, shaky breaths from Gold every so often. Whether they were angry breaths or quiet sobs, she wasn't exactly sure. He didn't turn around.

When the paramedics rushed in Gold was sent outside and Emma watched as Mr. French was placed on a gurney and taken outside. She explained the situation to the paramedics and they told her what they thought the prognosis on Mr. French was before she headed back out.

She wasn't ready to have any sort of serious conversation with him right now, but she had to talk to him. So she figured she'd keep it light. It would benefit the both of them, she figured. And when she saw his more relaxed features as she made her way to him, she was certain he was thinking the same thing.

"So I heard you managed not to break anything he needs. You're lucky, Mr. Gold."

It felt weird, saying his full name like that, but she was trying to be stern. Her tone of voice held a bit of a chastising note to it for sure. She almost sounded like she was going to give him some sort of lecture, but she wasn't. Though she really did think he might've over reacted a bit. Maybe if he would tell her what the hell happened, she would know for sure if he had or not.

"You've got a funny definition of 'lucky'," he retorted, his tone dry, head turning to watch as the gurney was wheeled around to be set into the ambulance.

"You have a funny definition of justice," she said, her brows furrowed sternly, her arms crossing in front of her chest. "What did he really do?" She couldn't help but ask.

He licked his lips, cocking his head to the side at her before he spoke. "He stole," he bit out sharply.

In truth he was now angry with her too and angry with himself. He was angry about everything. He hadn't wished her to hear him at all and was hoping she hadn't heard much when she'd walked in. Luck didn't favor him this evening though, he supposed.

"That reaction was about more than taking a few trinkets. You said something about how he hurt 'her'. What happened to 'her'? Who was that? What did he do?"

This time, when she asked about who some other woman was, her tone wasn't jealous at all. Now was not a time for something like that. She was worried there was someone who might be hurt or something. Even if it was someone close to Gold and she got in the way of whatever the hell was going on between her and him, she wasn't about to be jealous of someone who might be in trouble.

"If someone needs help, maybe I can help," she added.

She was genuinely concerned, not just about whomever it was he was talking about but him too. Everything about his posture, the look on his face, it just wasn't right. It was him, but it wasn't. It was as though he had sort of disconnected himself from this reality, slipped into some other place or time. It was strange for her to see.

"No. I'm sorry, Sheriff. I think you heard that wrong," he replied shortly, his Scottish accent even thicker as he spoke, looking her right in the eyes like he had been the whole time, a sort of stand off between the both of them.

"You really don't wanna cooperate." It wasn't a question.

"Look, we're done here," he said and started to walk away.

But she wasn't having any of that. Quickly she grabbed his arm to pull him back. "Actually, we're not."

He quirked his brow at her, not understanding what she meant.

"You're under arrest," she said as she began to cuff him. Their eyes didn't stray from one another's the whole time. And he had that damn smirk of his too. It was almost a prideful smirk, like he was proud she was standing up to him and actually arresting him. It would've been easy to let him go, especially since she had feelings for him.

And though it was definitely not the right time to be thinking it, she really liked the way he was looking at her then. It was kind of hot, her handcuffing him, their eyes locked the way they were, that smirk of his playing on his lips. It seemed like everything they did, no matter how serious the circumstances were, was foreplay. She hated it but was addicted to it.

God now's really not the time, Emma. Maybe it's pregnancy hormones or something.

"Turn," she commanded.

"What?" He spat back.

"I said turn. Put your hands on the roof of the car. I gotta pat you down," she explained.

"Is that really necessary?"

Probably not…

"Yes. You had a gun on you before. Wouldn't want to take any chances you could have another one on you."

He looked at her curiously, an almost sad look in his eyes. "You think I would hurt you?" He asked. It was just above a whisper.

"Just turn around," she said again, avoiding looking him in the eyes.

"You do, don't you. You're afraid of me." It wasn't a question, it was a statement and he almost seemed relieved, like he had wanted her to feel that way, like he wanted her to fear him. Almost, but not entirely, part of him sounded upset about it, part of him sounded like he regretted that she felt that way.

"No. I'm not. But it's my job, so just…turn around, please," she said, her voice a bit softer this time.

He did as he was asked and starting at his arms, she began to pat him down. Her hands quickly moved to his chest and patted at his coat, checking his pockets. She tried not to think about the last time she had touched his chest, him standing in front of her undressing…

No, stop that.

She shook her head a bit to focus back on what she was doing. This was supposed to be work. Her hands continued down to his legs, being very careful of where exactly she put her hands and soon she was down at his ankles and she patted them down. With her hand on his right ankle, she heard him take a sharp intake of breath, like a hiss of pain.

Without really thinking about it, she moved to pull his pant leg up a bit and look, but he moved his foot away from her quickly.

"Please…don't," he whispered looking over his shoulder and down at her.

She looked back up at him with sad eyes before she stood back up. It was then that she realized that whatever it was, it must be why he carried a cane. Part of her had thought it had been just for show, especially since he had carried her up the stairs that one night.

"Sorry, I-I didn't-neve rmind. You're clean. Get in," she said pointing at the car. She opened the door and helped him in since it was a little hard for him with his hands cuffed.

They rode back to the station in silence. She didn't know what to say or what to do. There were a dozen things she wanted to ask him or say to him, really, but it all just felt weird. Their whole dynamic had somehow shifted that night. Even though he had asked if she was afraid of him, seemed to care if she was or not, she just felt like whatever he had felt for her wasn't quite what it was before anymore.

She didn't want to admit it, but it hurt a little bit. Sure, she may not know exactly what her feelings for him were, may not exactly think being in a relationship with him was a good idea, and certainly wasn't sure about the whole having-his-baby thing, but whatever her feelings were, they were still there, just as strong as before. And it hurt her that his might not be.

It was stupid, really. All she'd been doing lately was avoiding him or shooting him down like that night she'd accused him of screwing up her car on purpose, but she was stubborn like that. She wanted him, but she didn't want to want him. And plus she was pregnant with his baby, so that complicated things a bit.

Still silently, she helped him into the station and into his cell, taking his cane from him. It was procedure really. She'd keep it close in case he needed it for something, but still, the last thing she needed was someone seeing that she wasn't following the rules and report it back to Regina.

She stood there as he sat down on the cot inside the cell and she leaned back on a desk behind her, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She nodded her head at him and her eyes dropped to his leg.

"What happened?" She asked.

"Skiing accident," he retorted dryly.

"Really, you ski?" She asked, her tone of voice slightly teasing.

"Not anymore," he ground out through clenched teeth, his tone entirely void of humor.

Right, no leg jokes, okay.

"You know, Gold, you don't have to be such an asshole all the time."

"Is that so? Excellent advice, Ms. Swan, I'll keep that in mind," he bit back, looking at her with his head cocked to the side, his lip turned up in a snarl.

"Seeing as how you're currently in a jail cell in my police station, you might try being a little bit nicer to me," she bit back just as scathingly as he had. She could play ball. He didn't scare her.

"I've tried playing nice. It got me nowhere."

"If you're talking about shit with me, you're outta your damn mind you've tried playing nice. You set a building on fire with me inside it. Then you sabotaged my car, so no, I don't think you've been 'playing nice'," she retorted.

"Did all of that not help you in some way?" He asked, knowing the answer of course. They'd been over that already.

"That doesn't excuse you!" She shouted back, suddenly getting angrier with him. But he was being so stubborn. All this time he'd been trying to get her on his side and now she was actually conversing with him civilly and he wasn't having any of it. It was infuriating.

"Does it count for nothing, because you haven't shown much gratitude," he said in return.

"Really?" She asked, laughing bitterly. "You want me to show you gratitude for what you did, keeping me in the dark like you did, letting me go and make a fool of myself in front of Regina when you knew what she was doing. No, fuck you, Gold."

"You've already done that, dearie," he replied in just above a whisper, Emma barely catching it.

"What did you say? Wow, you're a prick," she said, shaking her head at him.

This was not how she was expecting this conversation to play out. It seemed to have started out snarky and playful almost, she'd been messing with him, but it had all gotten so serious so quickly and she was all fired up now. And that just made the mess in her mind even more unmanageable.

This man before her, who she was swearing at was going to be the father of her child. At the moment, it wasn't a comforting thought. It scared her if she were being honest. There was really no telling what he might say or do if she told him. It wasn't that she thought he would be angry, but it would just complicate things more than they already were and she didn't want that.

She hadn't been looking for a relationship when she went to him and despite her feelings towards him; she still wasn't looking for that. But with a kid in the mix, well, something told her Gold was actually the kind of guy who would want to be around, want to be in a relationship if there was kid involved. Was she ready for that sort of thing with him? The man that infuriated her so and that she went from hating one minute and having feelings for the next?

He knew that had been wrong to say, the moment it had left his lips. But he was always doing that sort of thing, his mouth voicing thoughts before he had time to swallow them back down. One day he may learn to control that, but he highly doubted it.

"I'm sorry…Emma. I-I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you know what, I'm glad you did. Really. Makes it a hell of a lot easier for me now to just leave you sitting her all night by yourself. Was gonna stick around for a bit, maybe even camp out here, but no, not anymore. I'm done," she added turning to walk away.

"Emma, please," he said, standing and limping a bit towards the bars of his cell.

"What?!" She shouted back at him, her blonde, curly hair flipping over her shoulder as she spun to face him. She was fuming mad, her emotions in general and perhaps heightened by her pregnancy were raging full force in her mind. None of this was going as she wished it to. It was all becoming such a mess.

"What do you want, huh? You gonna try and apologize, gonna go all good guy on me? Because I'm sick of it, really. I hate that you keep doing this; you keep…ugh! No, never mind. I'm not doing this right now. I'm leaving, good night Gold," she said turning around once more and walking out of the station.

SHOUT OUTS:

Carlet: Yep, she's got a bun in the oven. It's going to be very interesting.

onceuponafairytalefan: Yay! I'm glad you're enjoying it. :D

Mrs Tom Riddle: yeah, she should tell him, but it's complicated, and they're only going to get more complicated. :/

Twyla Mercedes: As I said above things aren't going to go very smoothly any time soon. :(

mydirt09: Thanks, glad you like it! I miss season 1 soooo much! Hence the writing during that season! :D