Chapter Twenty-Five
Snow flipped another page. And another, and another.
Stories unfolded before her eyes, accompanied by simplistic yet beautiful illustrations depicting their world and all those that inhabited it. The book in her hands was all about the Enchanted Forest. Even her story was in here—meeting Charming, the glass coffin, her wedding. It was…it was…
"Remarkable," she breathed in pure wonder as her fingertips sifted through to the next page. Her green eyes widened as years of stories blended together in strange gold script.
"I shall take that as a compliment, dearie," the snake-like voice slithered to her from the shadows of the cell. As he stepped into the light of the torches, he was grinning. The light danced off his eyes, making them seem even more mystical than before—molten gold.
Settled on the chilly, damp ground, Snow could only raise her eyes to him. And when she did, she blushed a rosy pink. That kiss was much too fresh in her mind; she could still taste him on her lips.
"What's wrong, Snow? Having pe-cu-liar thoughts?" Amusement rang out in his silky voice. He knew what she was thinking about and he was reveling in it. Averting her gaze to the book, her mind scrambled for some other thread of topic.
"This book is filled with…everything! So many stories. How do you know all this?" Rumpelstiltskin deflated in his enthusiasm. The only thing he offered her was a careless shrug.
"After living for centuries, I've become quite the observer," he said. Centuries? By his power, Snow guessed the dealmaker had been around for a while, but centuries? How could someone live alone for so long and not crave comfort? Maybe that's why he requested it in our deal. He's lonely.
Snow felt his intense eyes roaming down over her body, as if to prove his point. He was observing—look, don't touch. She allowed him to look as she scoured through a few earlier pages and frowned. Confusion spread over her face.
"You're not mentioned in this book," she pointed out.
The strands of Rumpelstiltskin's dark wiry hair hid most of his face as he slowly turned away from the bars. Turning away from her until all she could see of him was his leather-clad back. He waved a hand in dismissal.
"No one would be interested in my story. Why would they be when they could have castles and princesses and happily ever after?" His voice rose in pitch as he mocked the stories that lay in her lap. Underneath it, though his pride was too great to show it, was hurt.
A pang of sympathy throbbed inside her. She animatedly leaned forward, closing the book as she did. The small flutter of pages made Rumpelstiltskin shift his head in her direction.
"Tell me your story," she asked softly. "Wasn't there ever someone that you loved?"
The dungeon was still and silent as she waited. Only Rumpelstiltskin's hitched breathing could be heard. He barely even looked at her now. Snow was almost sure he would refuse to answer.
"Yes," came the nearly inaudible reply. "Her name was Belle." And just like that, the dam broke and his story spilled from his dark lips.
Snow listened to every word, every angered syllable about a girl who had fallen for her captor. A beautiful, brilliant girl, according to him. Though he seldom expressed it in words, Snow could tell by the sweet longing in those golden eyes that the love was not unrequited.
It was possibly the saddest story Snow had ever heard. It was a story that, given his way, would never carry over to the world that awaited them.
…..
"Do you like apples?"
Henry and Mary Margaret walked side by side and were finally approaching the entrance to the school. It inevitably released an intense wave of nostalgia inside her. How many mornings had she spent among those kids?
"Henry, you already believe I'm Snow White," she reminded him gently, motioning to the heavy leather-bound book that never left his side. The only time she hadn't seen him with it was when he'd lost it once after that huge storm.
"I know," he replied, hugging the book closer to his chest. "I'm just…making sure." Mary Margaret smiled and ruffled his brown hair, only to have him smooth it down again.
"And to answer your question, I prefer pears to apples every time," she assured him. Not that she was expecting a poisoned apple to ever land on her kitchen table. Henry looked relieved and, not for the first time, she wondered if that book was hurting him more than helping him.
"So what are you doing with Mr. Gold?"
Mary Margaret fell silent and her gaze wandered to the groups of children playing in the schoolyard. Her hand touched her stomach for a brief moment as she remembered just how deeply she'd become involved with Storybrooke's most feared citizen. They just don't know him like I do.
"Mr. Gold likes pears," she feigned ignorance. She should have known Henry was too bright to be fooled by her evasion.
"That's not what I meant," he flatly insisted.
Once again, the hard seriousness of his tone belonged to someone older than his years, certainly not the little boy standing in front of her. Come to think of it, he reminded her of Emma—yes, there was the furrowed brow, the sharp honesty of his words, the scrunch of the nose whenever he was concentrating or grew frustrated.
Mary Margaret sighed and knelt before Henry so that she could look him straight in the eye.
"I know. Henry, sometimes…" Scratch that. Mary Margaret would spare him the 'hypothetical' terms of the adult world. "Sometimes things happen for a reason." Henry studied her intently, as if trying to read something else in her eyes.
"Do you love him?"
The direct question struck her speechless. It was hardly the type of inferring question she expected from a young boy, but then Henry was not like most young boys. The answer refused to come, especially since she knew Henry would weigh the answer heavily.
A cool breeze drifted around them and she pulled her blue coat tighter around her body. All the while, she reminisced about the moments she'd shared with Mr. Gold. The way he had first comforted her on the street with her hand resting on his arm; slowly dancing with him in the warmth of candles at the Miner's Day festival; sharing dinner with him; falling into his arms.
Mary Margaret's hand instinctively flew to the golden drop necklace around her neck—she never took it off. Those moments made her feel heady and dreamy; they had been almost…magical. But did that equal love?
"Maybe," she murmured softly. It was the best answer she could give at the moment. Despite Emma's paranoia, it wasn't as though she were saying 'yes' to marriage.
Henry opened his mouth, most likely revved up with another protest, but the bell rang. Children reluctantly stopped playing and hurried into the school. Mary Margaret straightened up and patted Henry on the shoulder, urging him forward.
"Hurry or you'll be late to class. You know how Miss Ginger feels about that," she told him. Surprisingly, Henry spun and threw his arms around her middle, the fairy tale book digging into her back. He squeezed his eyes shut as he hugged her. Oh, Henry…
"I wish you were still my teacher," he whispered into the soft blue of her coat. Mary Margaret gladly returned the hug and it somehow felt right. Maybe his theory that she was his grandmother was digging its hooks deeper.
"I do, too, Henry," she sighed before he broke away from her. His little face was slightly red and he looked like he did before Emma arrived. Unhappy, frustrated, alone.
Giving her one last mournful look, he began walking toward the school. Mary Margaret waved goodbye to him and felt water cloud her vision. I suppose not all wishes can come true.
"Aw, how sweet," a bitter voice mocked her from behind. Mary Margaret turned to meet the dark penetrating eyes of Madame Mayor herself. She wondered how long the mayor had been listening. Apparently, she wasn't too busy to eavesdrop.
"Madame Mayor," Mary Margaret politely addressed her. Regina's heels clicked coldly on the cement as she neared her. Amusement and belittlement dripped from her every move and facial twitch.
"Surely you're not here to beg for your job back. Is working for that manipulative bastard finally getting to you?" Regina spat out the word 'working', indicating their definitions differed greatly.
Mary Margaret stuffed he curled fists into her pockets. She refused to let the Mayor get the better of her. Not this time.
"I was just being a considerate person in walking Henry to school. Something came up with his mother at the last minute," she calmly replied, forcing a smile. Inside, her emotions churned like white-water rapids, dangerously close to the surface.
Regina pursed her red lips and crossed her arms angrily.
"Forgive me if I have a town to run, Miss Blanchard," she snapped. It was just one of Regina's quirks—she always assumed it was about her. Everything in this town was about her, wasn't it?
"I didn't mean you…Regina."
The Mayor's body lurched backward as if Mary Margaret had physically shoved her. The icy expression on her face only darkened even more, a black cloud of hatred thundering beneath her carefully constructed mask.
"Are you insinuating something?"
"Yes, I am," Mary Margaret instantly shot back. There was no fear in her this time, only pity. Pity for a woman who did not realize the meaning of happiness…and probably never would. "Your life must be filled with such incredible loneliness if your only joy comes from destroying everyone else's happiness. It's so sad, Mayor Mills, because despite what you think, it won't make you happy. It'll only leave a giant hole in your heart."
Mary Margaret shrugged and offered the Mayor a genuinely sympathetic look. Nobody deserved eternal unhappiness. Then there was that other saying: you could lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink. Mary Margaret had spoken her piece and now there was one thing left to do: walk away.
Or, she would have had she not heard Regina's sudden cackle of laughter over her shoulder.
"You truly are pathetic, aren't you?" The Mayor's lip curled in a sneer. "You honestly believe you can be happy…with him?" Regina made it sound inconceivable, an abomination. Mary Margaret stiffened, only lightly brushing a protective hand over her stomach.
"And what if I am? He's not the one who has tried many times to cause me misery," she retorted confidently. If anything, Mr. Gold had done nothing but help her. Even through the mess with David, he had been there.
"As far as you know," Regina coolly muttered. Mary Margaret's brow furrowed with puzzlement. Was the Mayor grasping at straws to hurt her or was she insisting upon something else? This is what I mean, Madame Mayor. You thrive on the unhappiness of others.
Understanding spread over Regina's face—on the heels of that, a victorious smirk.
"Oh, so he hasn't told you? I suppose I can see the reason. Wouldn't want his precious little jewel to slip through his slimy fingers." Mary Margaret licked her lips tentatively despite the chill in the air. Don't listen to her, Mary. She's just trying to get under your skin. Emma would agree.
"Told me what?" She bit down on the inside of her cheek. She hated the idea of clamping down on the Mayor's dangling hook, but her curiosity was overwhelming. Regina smiled maliciously.
"Miss Blanchard, who do you think gave me the suggestion of convincing the school board to fire you?"
Every cell in Mary Margaret's body glazed over with ice. Even her heart stopped beating. Regina's brutal question echoed in her ears. Who do you think…Miss Blanchard…gave me the suggestion…school board…fire you…
No. It couldn't be right. He would never…would he?
"You're lying," Mary Margaret argued, but her voice faltered. Her lip quivered as uncertainty sprouted in her mind, a seed bursting upward into a forest. It was a virus, contagious to every pore of her body.
Regina chuckled and took a determined step forward, but Mary Margaret barely noticed.
"Are you sure about that?" Mary Margaret's mind was plagued with insinuating assumptions and accusations, each one more hurtful than the last.
Mr. Gold was the only one willing to hire her for a job. Coincidence? No, that's because he's the only one unafraid of Regina's power. He was trying to help me…
The day Regina informed her that she had been fired from teaching, Mr. Gold had been there…but he had left before Regina could speak a word about it. Because he already knew what she was about to say? No, he must have been busy…He wouldn't…He would never…
Would he?
Mary Margaret wished she could answer positively, wished she could find the answer and hurl it at Madame Mayor at the speed of lightning and then meet Mr. Gold for lunch and then everything would be okay, it had to be…
But she wasn't positive. Much as she hated it, there was that tiny inkling of doubt. And Regina knew that.
"Looks like the two of you have some catching up to do," Regina harshly mocked Mary Margaret before passing her by, leaving her standing alone in the empty schoolyard.
….
Oh, Regina. Sigh. Always has to make things more complicated, doesn't she? (-;
Once again, I want to thank all of those that are reading this and have given me lovely reviews. It means a lot, guys. So, thank you.
It might be a little bit before I can update next, but I'll work on it.