A/N: Been so tired and had to work the holiday as well as put up with some crap from the family. I hope you all have had a safe, wonderful holiday, and I wish you all the best that 2013 has to offer. Here is the long overdue update! Enjoy! Love, Joanne.

Work dragged on and on as I stood at the register waiting for a customer, any customer to enter the store and check out. It was a completely dead day, and when the store wasn't busy, time felt like it had frozen. And because of all the spare time I had, I was thinking about Mr. Gold.

"Damn him," I muttered angrily to myself. "Get me all hot and heavy for him, and then under false pretenses I sign that bloody contract!" I slammed my fist down on the register's belt with a loud BANG! "Now I have no choice but to go with him forever. It's ridiculous! And I can't even tell anyone about it!"

I picked up a spray bottle full of cleaner fluid, and began to spray and clean my belt. "It's lunacy that I have to go through this. Although, I do have to say, the sex is great! And not having to work here is a mega plus. I wish I had been a rational human being when I signed…"

Soon my shift ended, and I slowly walked home. I made myself some soup, and rolled my eyes as I remembered that Mr. Gold wanted me to spend tonight at his place. I packed a duffle bag with all of my essentials after cleaning up the dinner dishes, and sighed as I left the house for Mr. Gold's.

He was in the doorway before I could even make it to the walkway, before I could climb the stairs and knock on the little pink door of his gay pink house. "Well, well, Miss French," said Mr. Gold as he stepped aside to let me in. "Please, come in. Make yourself comfortable. Would you care for a drink?"

"I would rather not," I said through gritted teeth as I sat down on the couch. "What's your deal anyway? What do you want with me?"

He chuckled to himself as he threw several cubes of ice into his glass before pouring himself some scotch and sitting across from me in an armchair. "What do I want with you? I think you know the answer to that question, dearie."

"You really want to control me?" I asked, looking at Mr. Gold, who was currently smirking into his scotch as he sipped. "I'm just a pawn in your life, a bit of flesh for you to exert your desires on? Is that all I will be to you?"

"You'll be much more than that," said Mr. Gold as he finished his scotch. "You see, when I have a woman, such as you dearie, sign a contract like you did, I am exclusive with her. I see no other woman, nor do I have any sexual favors or relations with anyone other than my submissive. And it is expected that you also reciprocate that as well. What I do is more along the lines of charity. I plucked you out of your obscurity, and I am about to give you everything you have ever dreamed of."

"I'm charity to you?" I asked angrily, getting up from the couch and placing my hands on my hips. "I was quite content with my life before you decided to pick me for your sex games."

"Were you?" asked Mr. Gold as he placed his empty glass down and stood up. "You live alone, your father is dead, your mother has been gone even longer than your father. You were raped by your dance instructor, and you work under that complete moron Mr. Clark for pennies. You can barely afford the rent, let alone pay for food, and your wardrobe consists of work and funeral attire. I would say you need me more than you think."

"I don't want to be your charity case," I said bitterly. "I can take care of myself. I've been doing it since my father died."

"Have you ever had a boyfriend?" asked Mr. Gold seriously. "Has anyone ever taken care of you, besides your father?"

I turned completely red and stared down at my feet. I had never had a real boyfriend before, nor had I ever had sex before I met Mr. Gold. "Well, I can see from your blushing that you have not. It's about damn time someone takes care of you."

Belle remained in her room for days. No matter what Rumplestilzkin did, he could not bring the beauty out of her room. She laid there in her bed, not eating or drinking, and slept.

The Deal Maker began to give up hope that there was anything that he could do to remedy the situation. He had been to harsh on her. He had never told her the reason why he refused to speak of anything dealing with the festivities of Christmas. It was too difficult for him to bring up, the wounds from years and years ago still were fresh and raw as if they had just been given.

Christmas was always a happy time when he had Bae and Mila. Christmas was about family, love, and happiness, and he had had that with Bae and Mila during their first holiday together. He had dressed up as Santa, and given his son a new rattle. Just watching Bae's eyes light up, and the smile that came from a child who was truly happy made Rumplestilzkin's heart glow.

Years later, Christmas was spent with just him and Bae, and things became harder on the family as Mila slowly but surely cut off all relations with them, soon disappearing for good. The peasant Rumplestilzkin tried his best to please his young son with anything he could possibly get, but even though Bae put on a brave face for his father, Rumplestilzkin knew deep down that he was not happy.

After gaining his powers, the newly dubbed Dark One showered his son with lavish presents and gifts, but to his surprise, Bae didn't want any of it. "I want my papa back," Bae had said.

Rumplestilzkin, thickheaded as he was, could not go back to his peasant life. Even if it meant giving his son what he wanted, it was not what HE wanted, and Bae wouldn't want to make his own father choose to be happy or make his own son happy?

And then, one fateful day, Bae disappeared forever, and from that day on, there were no more holidays of any kind, no more celebrations, and no more parties and presents. From then on, there was no reason for rejoicing and celebrating, for the Dark One, who had all the power he had ever hoped for, could not use his power to regain his son no matter how hard he tried.

. . .

Rumplestilzkin walked along the edge of the Dark Forrest, and cupped his hands around his mouth and made a chirping sound. "Damn cricket," he hissed as he continued to chirp.

"You called?" asked Jiminy Cricket as he hopped on a tree branch nearest the Dark One. "Funny, I thought people called for you, not the other way around."

"You listen to me bug brain," hissed Rumplestilzkin. "I know you need a new umbrella. The one you have is full of holes, and it is supposed to rain quite soon. I have the perfect umbrella for you, BUT I need something from you in return."

"What do you want from me?" asked Jiminy nervously. He gripped his umbrella, placing the point of it against the bark of the branch he was standing on.

"I need some advice," said Rumplestilzkin as he began to pace slowly back and forth. "You are a conscience, are you not?"

"That I am," chirruped Jiminy Cricket.

"Well then," said Rumplestilzkin as he cleared his throat. "I have a bit of a dilemma. I have this… lady with whom I have upset. I need to figure out how to get her to forgive me, and bring her back to her normal self."

"Well, what have you done to your… lady friend?" asked Jiminy, carefully treading the tempestuous waters.

"I have hired her as help in my castle, and without my permission, she had decorated it for the Christmas holiday, a day which I do not care to acknowledge."

"How can you not acknowledge Christmas!?" asked Jiminy. "It's the most wonderful time of the year!"

"THAT IS MY BUSINESS, BUG!" growled the Dark One angrily. Jiminy flinched, and nearly fell off the tree branch. "But that is besides the point. I upset her by getting angry over the decorations she had put up, and she is currently holed up in her room and hasn't moved since."

"It seems you have hurt her feelings," said Jiminy as he tried to see where Rumplestilzkin was coming from. "You see, she was probably only trying to help. A lot of people like this time of the year, and they can really get into it through decorating the house. She probably grew up with a lot of festivities, and this was her way of showing she cared."

"Is there any way I can fix this mess I've made?" asked Rumplestilzkin, looking back at the cricket.

"I would start by apologizing," said Jiminy Cricket.

"Well, I could have came up with that!" hissed Rumplestilzkin angrily. "How pathetic! I'm sure magic can do much more than a simple 'I'm sorry.'"

"No, don't use magic!" cried Jiminy. "Listen, I'm a conscience! I know things! When you apologize to her, don't just say you're sorry. Say it from your heart. Say it like you mean it. I promise you, she will forgive you."

"And what if it doesn't work," snarled Rumplestilzkin as he handed over the new umbrella. "What if your cockamamie idea doesn't fix anything?"

"Trust me, I'm your conscience," said Jiminy before he hopped away.