A/N: Seriously, I said I was in a writing mood and I've reached the point I've been wanting to get to for a while and just in too because I have a lot of school work to do the rest of this month and won't get much time for writing any more of this for a while. But I guess I kinda made up for it by giving you three chapters in like 24 hours. Yeah. So, read, review and enjoy, etc., etc.

For a while, Emma still felt awful and had to keep reassuring herself that she had done the right thing by leaving that morning. That didn't stop it from hurting when Gold was noticeably colder to her the next time she saw him at Mary Margaret's little celebration about it being proven that she didn't kill Kathryn after all. And as a sort of self defense mechanism she was just as cold back.

He had stood off to the side most of the night knowing he wasn't really wanted there in the first place. Only Dr. Hopper, Mary Margaret and Henry had willfully spoken to him. And he was talking to Henry just then.

"You did it," he said in an awed sort of tone. "You helped Mary Margaret."

"I promised you I would," he replied, unable to stop the small smile from rising to his lips.

"Yeah but I didn't think you'd actually do it," Henry admitted and then looked a little flustered realizing that that had definitely been a bit rude to say. "I-I mean—"

Gold chuckled down at the boy. "It's all right, Henry. I do have a bit of a reputation around here after all.

Henry just smiled sheepishly back up at him.

"Go on, why don't you go give Ms. Blanchard that gift you picked out for her?"

"That's right!" Henry exclaimed. "I almost forgot. Thanks!"

"No problem," Gold returned as Henry scurried off. And once again he retreated to the sidelines and made himself scarce. Though as he caught sight of Emma and the stubbled man whom he'd caught poking around his shop earlier that day, a sense of irritation filled him. The fact that she was smiling and possibly flirting with him only irritated him further.

He wanted to kick himself for that fact. After he had come back out of the shower to see that she had gone that morning, he had decided there was nothing left for him to do but follow Emma's lead and end whatever it was between them that had never truly begun in the first place. But the jealousy in the pit of his stomach bubbled up anyway.

She was infuriating; all of it was infuriating. He himself knew it was for the best that they weren't together. Something inside him told him that the time was soon coming when Emma would break the curse, when she would believe. And at that time, there was no doubt in his mind that she would want nothing to do with him when she learned the truth of who he was.

But before he could think more on the issue, Emma had walked over near him where he was standing just a few feet from the door. She was ushering Henry out, as it was getting kind of late for him.

"Hard to let him go, isn't it? Your son," he added for clarification. He would know.

She felt her hands go cold at his words. Just thinking about Gold and children at the same time made her sick with grief and guilt. Not that what had happened had been her fault but she felt guilty for not telling him what happened and still having no plans to ever do so. She had yet to notice the missing sonogram and he had yet to find it.

"Yeah, pretty much the hardest thing," she replied, forcing herself to look him in the eye though she wanted to look anywhere but there. "Speaking of something we weren't talking about," she went on, really not wanting to talk about children with him. She wasn't sure she could. "Was it you?"

Now what is she accusing me of this time? Oh…I think I know.

"Was what me?" He asked, feigning ignorance because that always worked out for him.

"Did you make Kathryn suddenly materialize? 'Cause is sure played that way to me," she said quirking her brow at him. He was nothing if not resourceful, and backhanded, she wouldn't put it past him. "Was that the magic you were going to work? Because if you kidnapped that poor, innocent woman just to let her go—"

"Are you proposing I'm working with Regina or against her?" He asked, effectively cutting her off.

"I don't know, maybe…diagonally," she said with a small shrug.

"Well, you keep working on that one," he said, barely containing his amusement. "My question's about something else. What do you know about him?" He asked, pointing out the leather clad man he had seen her speaking to.

Emma bit back the immediate retort to ask him if he was jealous. That was not where this conversation needed to go. She was trying to put anything between her and Gold behind her for good.

"Goes by 'August'. He's a writer. Typewriter wrapped in an enigma wrapped in stubble. Why?"

Jealous?

SHUT UP!

And damn it if she didn't hope just the tiniest bit that that were true. She wanted him to be jealous of August for talking to her, for flirting with her. She hated herself right then, more than she ever had in her lifetime. When did she get this selfish?

"He was poking around my shop today," he answered, not even looking at her. She tried really hard to not let that disappoint her. "August Wayne Booth, clearly a false name. There's one thing I know about. It's names."

"Writers go by pseudonyms. What does it matter?" She was actually really confused about why he cared. I mean, if he were jealous, it'd be one thing but he didn't appear to be. Besides if that was why he was asking about him, she doubted he'd be asking her directly.

"You trust him?" He asked, turning back to her, a hard look in his eyes as he watched her carefully as she answered.

"Yeah," she replied without hesitation. "A lot more than I trust you," she added and then mentally cursed herself. That was low. Even if he had in fact had something to do with Kathryn's disappearance, she didn't need to be such a bitch to him. Nobody had gotten hurt and everything was working out just fine for the time being…well, almost everything. Plus she really had no proof he'd done anything at all.

He didn't enjoy the ache that filled his heart at her words. While, again, he couldn't blame her for feeling that way about him, he wouldn't lie and say it didn't irritate him. After all, it was he whom she had gone to that night for emotional comfort, not August. And he could have easily brought that up to her, taunt her with it, but he wouldn't. It would do him no favors.

All he could muster was a slight twitch of his lip. He hoped it came off less it left him heartbroken and more that he found it mildly amusing. Though none of it was in any way amusing to him. And then he watched her go back over to August and his anger and jealousy returned.

He didn't need to be around for any more of that. The longer he stayed the more irritated he became. There were other ways he could spend his time that evening and while August was busy with Emma, he decided that was the best time to go snooping around his room. He needed to find out who this man was and what he had come to town for.

What he'd found was even worse than he expected; a picture of his dagger from the Enchanted Forest, the one that had the power to control him, and the one that had the power to kill him. And there was only one person who could possibly know about that knife. He had been very careful about that little detail.

But he would rather hope that Regina had somehow found out about it than face the truth that this discovery came with. His son, Baelfire, the one he had let go of all those centuries ago was the only person he had ever told about his dagger and what it could do. He didn't want to think about what it might mean if that man was his son and was here looking for his dagger.

Unfortunately that was all he could think about. For the first time in months his mind was preoccupied like it had never been before. Not even thinking about everything going on between him and Emma had distracted him this much. His determination to find out if his suspicions were true had even gone so far as to lead him to speak with Mother Superior, which he never did if he wasn't collecting rent.

And what she had told him had not eased his worry at all. She had all but confirmed his suspicions. All he wanted right then was for someone to talk to about all of this. Nothing had ever plagued his mind like this, not in years, centuries; not since he had first let Bae go.

He cringed when his first thought was Emma when thinking of people he could speak to. What a foolish notion, no matter how fleeting. As if Emma would care at all that his son was in town, possibly there to kill him. No, she was too busy flirting with the man to care about him at all. Never mind that he'd been there to comfort him. There was no doubt in his mind she would not bother to return the favor.

Then it came to him. Emma was not the only person in town who had ever spoken to him voluntarily. There was at least one other, and he was far more qualified to offer Mr. Gold guidance with his current problem, Dr. Hopper. Though he wouldn't have dared to ever seek advice and counsel from him back in the Enchanted Forest, he was desperate enough to seek him out now.

So, he gritted his teeth and headed to Dr. Hopper's office. He rapped his knuckles on the door, and shook his head.

This was a bad idea, he thought as his lip twitched as he turned to leave, hoping he could escape and that Dr. Hopper hadn't heard him knock.

No such luck, however.

"Mr. Gold?" Dr. Hopper asked, opening the door and causing him to stop in his tracks. He doubted the man would let him leave now. "Are you here for the rent?" He called after him.

Gold sighed. "Why does everyone ask that?"

"Well, because you—Never mind. Would…would you like to talk?"

He groaned internally. He was regretting this already; he didn't like the man's tone, it sounded pitying. Of the numerous things that irritated him, pity was very high up on the list. But that didn't mean that nagging sensation in his gut that told him he should. If there were anyone who might help him it would be Dr. Hopper.

"I don't know," he admitted softly. He didn't know if he would like to talk, but he knew he needed to. And that was what had him accepting Dr. Hopper's offer to come in. And it was with Dr. Hopper's advice that Mr. Gold decided to confront the man he believed to be his son. By the time it was over, he wasn't sure which of the men he wanted to kill first.

Well, that was a lie. He wanted to gut August like a fish, watch him writhe in agony as he died. But that wouldn't do. For the time being at least, he could use the man to his advantage. Emma trusted August over himself, so he would be Gold's tool for getting her to believe.

He so desperately needed her to believe. After thinking that his son was there to find him, whether to kill him or not, his determination to have this curse and get his son back only increased and he would be putting all his efforts into helping August get Emma to believe. He needed his son back. It had been so long and believing that he was there had crushed him when he found out it wasn't true.

For a brief period of time he thought that Emma might care for him, but that notion was long gone now and his son was the only person that might still be out there who cared for him. He had lost whatever small chance he might have had with Emma and Belle was long gone. Baelfire was all he had left. He needed to find him.

The moment he had returned to his home, his anger had left him and a deep sorrow overcame him. He barely made it up to his bedroom before he broke down, his body wracking with sobs. The regret he had felt for centuries at letting his son go came back full force, in fact, it came back ten fold. And he just missed making it onto his bed before he collapsed to the ground unable to take another step from the sheer emotional agony he was experiencing.

He fell to the floor with his back hitting the side of his bed, his hands on either side of his body. And he shifted slightly as he continued to cry and one of his hands brushed up against something under the bed. His brow furrowed in confusion as he grabbed at whatever it was, it seeming to be a picture perhaps.

And it was a picture all right, a very particular kind of picture a type he recognized instantly regardless of the fact that the image was more reminiscent of a dark blob than what it really was. But still, he knew what it was and he knew to whom it belonged. There was only one other person who had ever been in his bedroom. Emma.

That's when the pieces all started to fall together. She was pregnant. And she didn't want to tell him. That thought caused another ache in his heart but still; he couldn't blame her, really. Look was a sorry excuse for a father he was.

This explained even her behavior; her mood swings, all of it. She was pregnant with his child. And while it didn't make him feel good that she did not wish to tell him, a small glimmer of hope rose inside him despite his best efforts to shove it away.

What if he could get her to see that he could be a father to their child? What if, by some miracle, he could convince her to give him an actual chance? While certainly not ideal, a pregnancy opened up the door to the possibility of an actual relationship with Emma. And as he turned his eyes brimming with tears, now slightly tears of happiness, down to the sonogram in his hand, he decided he needed to speak with her and see if she would at the very least let him be a part of his child's life.

Emma was sitting up at the kitchen table with the paperwork she needed to do to wrap up Mary Margaret's case. She couldn't really get to sleep, her mind still on her conversation with Gold from the night before at Mary Margaret's party. She really felt like such a bitch for how she was treating him. Whatever he had done, he didn't deserve this from her.

He had been there for her when she needed him, on countless occasions, not just the times she went to his home. It wasn't fair what she was doing to him. And it was eating away at her and she just wanted to tell him that she was sorry; she wanted to tell him she just wasn't good at this sort of thing so she'd pushed him away.

She almost jumped when she heard a light knock on her door and she paled. For some reason, her first thought was that it was Gold out there knocking. Now, whether that was just because she had been thinking about him or because it logically made sense (him being the only person she could think of who would show up at two o'clock in the morning), she would never know.

Still, she stood and made her way to the door, opening to find a very distressed looking Gold before her. She didn't know what to make of his appearance. He simultaneously looked the most heartbroken she had ever seen him and the most hopeful she had ever seen him. It confused her greatly. And it was clear that he had been crying and she really had no idea why that would be.

"Gold what are yo—"

But she didn't get her words out before he had reached out with his hand and touched her face, a look even softer than he had given her the other night in his eyes. His thumb brushed over her cheek and she was rooted to the spot wondering what the hell was going on.

He shuffled closer to her as he cupped her face in his hand before leaning in and kissing her. Despite herself, she immediately responded to his kiss, her eyes fluttering closed and her own hands moving out to grip him by his collar and pull him into a deeper kiss.

And it wasn't until she felt his other hand come to rest at her hip that she came to her senses and put a stop to the kiss. At the very least she needed to know what the hell had brought this on. But at that moment, the way his lips had felt against hers, even the flimsiest of excuses might have been enough for her to not give a damn.

Severing the kiss reluctantly, she blinked up at him. "Wha—"

"I'm sorry," he cut her off again. "For everything. I can't promise you that I'll always make the right choices, and I can't promise you that I won't hurt you again somehow," he added and he couldn't help but think this was the worst apology ever but at least for once he was being honest with her. "I won't lie and say that I'll be a better man, I wish I could but I can't. I just don't want to lie to you. But I can be a father to our child…if you'll let me. Please, Emma. Just give me a chance, that's all I ask."

At his words Emma felt like she was going to be sick. He knew…but he didn't know. "Wha—What are you talking about?" She managed to choke out somewhat shakily feeling she was definitely giving it away that she knew what he was talking about. But she was really just glad she'd managed to get the words out without actually getting sick.

"This," he said and he reached into the breast pocket of his suit and fished out the sonogram he had found on his floor and held it in front of her.

Instinctively she clasped one hand over her mouth in shock as the other shakily reached out to take it from him. It was the first time she had seen it since she had lost the baby. Tears sprang to her eyes, just a few actually falling, and when he reached out to brush them away with his thumb, it only caused more to start pouring down her cheeks.

This was not how things were supposed to happen. He wasn't ever supposed to find out that she had been pregnant. She had been determined that he would never know. It was going to crush him to hear the truth but there was nothing she could do about it now, she had to tell him.

"I don't blame you for not wanting to tell me, Emma. I do, truly. But I beg you," he said, his voice nearly a whisper and tears of his own glistened in his brown eyes, "let me prove to you that I can be a good father. Let me prove it to myself," he added, a tear spilling down his own cheek.

"Oh, Gold," she sobbed as quietly as she could, not wishing to wake Mary Margaret. "There is no baby. I wish I could tell you there was, I wish I could give you that chance, I really do, but I can't."

"What do yo—"

"I lost it," she let out in a chocked sort of sob.

This was the first time she'd really talked about it and the first time she'd really let herself feel the grief she'd been fighting since that night. "When I went after Mary Margaret, the guy who kidnapped her, Jefferson, we got in a fight," she went on, her words coming out in short spurts as she fought to stay upright, wanting to get it all out so he would understand why she hadn't already told him.

His heart ran cold. This couldn't be. It wasn't true. It couldn't be. No. He refused to believe it.

"He tackled me and I landed right on my stomach. There was nothing I could do."

If Emma had thought he had looked heartbroken before, it was nothing compared to the way he looked now. His hands were shaking and she saw that he had fallen back against the doorframe of her apartment.

There was no feeling in his limbs as he looked back at Emma in shock. He was barely even aware of where he was or what was going on, seeming to have gone complete outside of himself. His mind was foggy and his breaths grew ragged as his back collided with the doorframe, a look of absolute horror on his face.

"I was planning on telling you I was pregnant, I was, but after I…after…I just couldn't. I couldn't handle seeing you like this, couldn't handle telling you, not after knowing about your son, not after seeing how you are when you talk about him, or any kid for that matter. I couldn't be the one to tell you that you'd lost another kid. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I didn't want to you to have to hurt the way I did," she admitted, tears falling freely down her cheeks now like a steady stream.

Though he desperately wanted to believe that this was all some sort of sick cruel joke on Emma's part he knew that wasn't the case. For one, she would never do such a thing; she was far too kind hearted. But he could hear the truth of it in her shaky voice; see it in her tear brimmed green eyes. And all that hope he had let build up inside him at the sight of his unborn child left him.

If this had come at a different time, any other time but that particular moment he may not have felt the way he did. But it had, just as everything else that happened in his life seemed to come at the worst possible time. It felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest and he had a sudden sick urge to laugh at the irony. The man who'd ripped out and crushed more hearts than he cared to admit was having his own metaphorically ripped out and for the first time in forever he felt sorry for those people whose heart he had ripped out.

If this was anything compared to what it felt like to actually have one's heart ripped from their chest, he wasn't sure he would ever be able to do that to someone again. He had never felt an agony like this one before. Not even when he had let go of Bae and he'd fallen through that portal. At least then he could be comforted by the fact that Bae was alive and that there was at least a glimmer of hope that he would someday see him again.

In this instance, that was not the case. There would be no seeing this child, not even for the first time. He would never be able to hold his baby in his arms and look into her big brown eyes. (He had already begun to imagine it had been a girl and what she might have looked like and had hoped she would take after Emma mostly, but he had always imagined any child of his with his brown eyes); never be able to comb his fingers through her soft hair or kiss her forehead; never be able to watch her grow up and see what sort of woman she might become.

Would she have grown up a perfect mix between him and Emma? Would she have had all the stubbornness they both possessed, the same determination, yet Emma's more gentle nature? Not that he couldn't be gentle of course, but it certainly wasn't his default. Would she have been cunning like him and headstrong like her mother?

He imagined she would have been. He also imagined he would have spoiled her. Now he would never get the chance to do so. He would never get the chance to do anything with her and never get a chance to show Emma what sort of man he truly was, maybe not the best man by any means but one she could have a modicum of pride for.

And those touching scenes he had conjured in his mind almost immediately upon seeing the sonogram played darkly through his mind again. Where at first they had been of a possible future, one where he might have a chance for happiness, the images in his mind were now tinged with darkness, knowing none of them would ever be a possibility.

He should have known; he was not meant for happiness. There was more than one reason he had been afforded comfort by the curse in this new land. While it was true it had been part of his deal with the Evil Queen before it had been cast, that was not the only reason.

The curse had been created to take away the happy endings of the people in town, and on the surface that should have meant anyone, but it didn't. The villains in the story weren't included in that. The curse was for the villains. They couldn't ever have their happy endings because of who they were and what they had done, so all there had been for them to do was cast this curse and take the happy endings from everyone else.

It had been naïve of him to think that so long as he didn't cast the curse himself that it would mean once it broke he was entitled to his own happy ending as well. How foolish of him to think such a thing. He was a villain; he didn't get a happy ending. Happiness would never be a part of his future.

The realization of it all cut him deep. All the time in effort he had put into getting to this land was all for naught, he realized that now. No matter what, he would never get his happy ending. He didn't deserve it. The thought crippled him and the next thing he knew, he was falling to the floor as his body shook with sobs. He sobbed for Bae, he sobbed for Emma, and he sobbed for his inevitably unhappy future but most of all he sobbed for his unborn child.

And then Emma watched as Gold, ever stoic Mr. Gold, scariest man in Storybrooke slide down the wall in agony as he cried, tears flowing just as freely from his eyes as they were from hers, cane clattering to the ground at his side. She wasn't sure she had ever seen a more heartbreaking scene. The last time she could ever remember feeling this sad, this tearful was when she had given up Henry. While she hadn't wanted to give up this baby, she couldn't help but connect the two moments in her head, the two moments she really came to terms with the fact that she wasn't going to have a kid.

"No, no," he whispered, shaking his head, still desperately trying to deny what it was that she was telling him. And she knelt down before him, placing her hands on his knees. "Please, no. NO!" He cried out and Emma no longer cared whether it woke Mary Margaret or not.

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed herself as she crawled over to his side. Just as she got situated beside him, he slumped against he as he continued to cry. And Mary Margaret had woken up too and had come out of her room and was looking down at them in confusion and horror, never having believed she'd see the day that Mr. Gold was on her floor sobbing into Emma's shoulder.

Emma just looked sadly back at Mary Margaret as she wrapped an arm around him and held him to her and shook her head at Mary Margaret who took that as both confirmation of her suspicions about what was going on and as a message that she should leave and she hastily retreated back to her room.

"I am so, so sorry," she whispered through her own tears and she ran a shaky hand through his hair as he continued to cry.

And she sat there crying along with him, holding him to her as he clung to her. Neither one of them cared much about anything else that had happened between them before that evening; both were just content to mutually share their grief. And they didn't much care what happened afterwards either. At that moment, they both just needed each other and for once they didn't fight it.

It felt strange to her though if she were being honest. She couldn't ever remember a time when she had ever comforted someone the way she was now, nor could she have remembered a time prior to the other night at Gold's house that she had let someone else comfort her. But what was really strange about it was that it didn't feel as odd as it should have. It almost felt natural to her with him. She wasn't sure what to make of it and she was certain she didn't ever want to make sense of it.

Just like the other night at Gold's home, the two of them ended up in bed, this time Emma's. She had helped him out of his suit once they had gotten to her bedroom and she had changed into some pajamas, not even realizing that she had put on the shirt of his that she had stolen that morning. If Gold noticed, he said nothing, though she did think his eyes had lingered on it for longer than was necessary.

When he lied down on her bed, he faced away from her but he didn't seem to mind when she scooted up behind him and placed her hand on his arm, squeezing it lightly. She then ran her hand down his arm until it fell into his hand and he gripped in firmly in his own. She sighed with a relief she didn't expect to feel at the gesture and she felt him rub his thumb across her skin.

"I would have been a good father," he said in barely even a whisper. Had it not been completely silent, her almost holding her breath waiting to see if he would speak, she might not have heard him. "I would have done right by you," he added and she heard as well as felt him sigh. "I won't say I would've taken care of you because you don't strike me as the kind of woman who wants or needs to be taken care of, but I would have helped you in any capacity that you would have wanted."

A dryness filled her throat at his words. She had expected as much when she'd been thinking about telling him, but she had still been too scared to go through with it before it was too late. She shouldn't have waited. She knew that now.

"I know you would've," she admitted back in a whisper and he squeezed her hand tighter and she felt him relax against her before she drifted off to sleep.