A/N: Hello, everybody! I present to you that flashback chapter I promised last time. I hope everyone enjoys it.
Three Months Ago…
It never ceased to amaze him how so many pieces of their past world had crossed into Storybrooke. Half of the treasures in the pawnshop still held a trace of the scent of the Enchanted Forest, if one were to examine them closely enough. Thankfully, he didn't experience too many people wandering in to sniff his things.
Snow White's glass mobile sparkled as it hovered over a display case, the glass unicorns swaying in a gentle rhythm. Mary Margaret's ring—a token of her twoo wuv—rested on her finger each morn, even if she did not recall its significance. The puppets that were once Gepetto's parents were stored away, Charming's sword was locked in a case for future use, Granny's crossbow was hidden under a floorboard of the inn should she ever need a replacement weapon for her shotgun. Even that wretched dagger, the source of his power, had made it here though it was buried deep in the woods.
It seemed the only thing missing was his leather pants.
The suits were always nice, but he missed the feel of dragon-hide against his skin and the way ladies in a tavern often watched him walk off from behind. Of course, Regina would never have allowed it—she'd be far too jealous. Probably tackle him in the middle of the ice cream parlor and take them for her own.
In the dimness of his shop, he hoisted a thin, dust-ridden box from one of the higher shelves and set it on the counter. He winced as a tendril of pain shot up his leg. The lame thing was getting worse every day. Perhaps he should hire a personal masseuse.
Fingering the lid delicately, he flipped it open and peered inside at the small vial nestled in the center. His lips curled as he lifted it from its velvet chamber. It was the last decent dose of magic he had in this world. Instinct had told him to save it for a rainy day.
A lust potion, capable not of casting love but spurring an intimate, insatiable desire for another. The first person you set eyes on, quite conveniently. He didn't even know if it would have any effect in this world, but what was there to lose by trying?
It wasn't working with Emma.
It wasn't enough that she owed him a favor for allowing that pathetic wench Cinderella to keep her baby. He needed her on his side and he preferred to accomplish that as soon as possible. If all went well, this lust potion should do the trick—just a few drops in a drink.
Cradling it in his palm, his thumb traced the topper that kept the liquid safely sloshing inside. He wasn't going to fool himself by expecting it to be love; only Belle had succeeded in getting close to him. Even Milah—stupid, worthless Milah—had disappointed him.
Besides, he knew fairly well that Emma's walls were much too thick to allow love to pass through. No, he would keep his distance, only interact with their dear savior and convince her to be bound by his side long enough to assure her loyalty and trust. It would be a business deal of sorts, an alliance.
If the stuff even worked. That would be a miracle, but…desperate times called for desperate measures.
Pocketing the vial, all that remained was to wait for an opportune moment to make his move in Emma's direction. Considering Graham's downward spiral and Regina's insistence of keeping her little puppy chained in her backyard, he could tell that moment would not be too far away.
It was a good thing the ice cream parlor was in walking distance to his shop; he had a mighty craving to treat himself to a chocolate cone while he waited.
….
Archie had never been late to work. He'd always gotten up early, always set the alarm so that he would have a generous amount of time to dress and walk Pongo. Maybe he shouldn't have had that video game competition with David—he sort of forgot to set the alarm.
He slept in and he was late.
Inside his office, he rushed around in a wild frenzy. Fixing his tie, feeding his crickets, brushing his teeth. The toothbrush was still speeding around in his mouth when a knock resounded at the door. That was odd—Henry wasn't supposed to be here for another hour.
Forgetting the current task at hand, he immediately swung open the door.
"Emma," he gargled behind the mouthful of toothpaste. Toothpaste. Oh, God, he must look ridiculous. Before she could utter a syllable, he slammed the door in her face. He ran over to the wastebasket, spit, and rinsed with water from the cooler next to his desk.
When he opened the door, Emma had her hands planted on her hips. She did not look very pleased.
"Piece of advice, Hopper. If this isn't a good time, you could…I don't know…say so." Archie's face reddened with shame. He hadn't meant to be rude. Why was she staring at him so intently? It made him self-conscious. Did he leave toothpaste around his mouth?
"Are you here to talk about something?" Emma rolled her eyes. He supposed it was a stupid question. What else would the Sheriff be here for? An invitation for the baby shower? To arrest him?
Oh, no.
Did she have a camera watching the intersection where Gold convinced him to speed through the red light on the way to their guys' night out? He knew he shouldn't have done it, but there were no other cars and Gold told him to do it…Gold made him do it…
He started hyperventilating. He couldn't handle jail. Only bad people went to jail. Bad things happened to people in jail. Even in the station…Leroy's karaoke could either heal you of a hangover or give you a concussion. And what if you had to go to the bathroom? It was frightening.
"Depends," Emma replied skeptically. "Are you going to slam the door in my face again?"
So…she was here to talk. He wasn't going to jail.
Archie sighed with tremendous relief and edged the door wide open for her. She passed him and he caught the scent of cinnamon that radiated around her. Maybe she was here to get more help with her fear—uh, hatred—of thunderstorms.
Without his consent, Emma took a seat on the black couch. She swiped one of the peppermint candies that he kept in a crystal bowl and popped one in her mouth, crinkling the wrapper in her palm. Henry liked those, too. Like mother, like…son.
After calming his nerves—and checking the mirror for toothpaste—he settled into his favorite chair.
"Right, so…what would you like to talk about?"
Emma held the peppermint on her tongue and the couch moaned as she leaned forward. From here, she looked anxious and bothered. Did she get into another fistfight with Regina? He always advised that the fighting would only hurt Henry…but he was placing all bets on Emma.
"How's the baby?" Emma instinctively placed a protective hand over her swelled abdomen.
"The baby's fine. I need help." Straight to the point, then. Usually it took a few sessions to get through to a patient. He was still trying—and failing—with Henry.
"That's more or less why people see a psychiatrist," he joked. It fell flat; Emma gave no sign of a smile, let alone humor. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to be serious. "Mary Margaret already convinced me to sign up for the Friendly Neighborhood Babysitting Committee. If you're interested."
Emma shook her head negatively and he couldn't help noticing how the strands of morning sunlight accentuated her golden hair. It reminded him of that of a princess.
"This isn't about babysitting, although Mary Margaret's practically going door-to-door twisting everyone's arm about it. I need your help to regain some memories."
Archie was sure he'd heard her wrong. Mary Margaret was going door to door twisting people's arms about babysitting? She was going to be a remarkable godmother. Oh, and there was the part about hypnosis. What memories could Emma be desperate to retrieve?
"Why?" It was the only word he was capable of choking out. In a split second, Emma's face became grave, her hands bone-white as she clasped them between her knees. She spat out the mint into the wrapper and lobbed it at the wastebasket. Score.
"I want to remember the night I married Gold. I need to remember if he took advantage of me…after he drugged me." Something told him he was going to have to cancel Henry's session.
…
It was half past eight at night. The diner was abnormally quiet, vacant except for the occasional booth of people keen on eating a late dinner. The blinds were closed to the outside world, only thin slats of milky streetlights illuminating the tabletops.
Emma Swan slumped on her bar stool, miserably nursing her first alcoholic drink of the night. And, oh, how badly she needed its numbing effects on the mind. Green eyes swollen with fatigue, the whites of turning a puffy red. Her hands were frozen, cold as ice as they curled around her glass. The bump on her forehead still ached from Regina's unexpected punch.
Every nerve in her body seemed dull, unable to transmit even a spark of emotion. All she could think about was Graham dying in her arms and the clinical expression on Dr. Whale's face as he informed her there was nothing they could do to revive him.
Graham was gone. To think he would never throw another dart at her head ever again. Somehow, that just made her sadder.
Emma tipped her glass back and emptied the rest of the alcohol into her system. That was all she needed. Just one.
Sinking her blonde head into her hands, she closed her sore eyes and wished this was a horrible nightmare. Regina was the Queen of Hearts and she was Alice in Wonderland and she'd fallen down a rabbit hole and soon she would wake up…
"Someone seems to be stuck in the doldrums tonight," a rich voice caught her attention. Not bothering to hide her distaste, she groaned. Gold.
Was the universe working against her tonight? Her patience with the pawnbroker was normally thin to begin with—right now, it was practically nonexistent. Okay, count slowly to ten, Emma, she mentally reasoned. Remember those breathing exercises Archie taught you. And then, if he's still there, then you can take this glass and—
"What the hell do you want?" She was aware that she sounded as enthusiastic as a chicken that just got run over from trying to cross the road. If Gold were as smart as she believed him to be—not that she was complimenting him—he'd leave her alone.
Apparently, he wasn't so smart. Instead of turning around and limping out of here, he made a mocking tsk-tsk sound with his tongue and claimed the seat beside her.
"Manners, Emma," he chastised in a light, sing-song fashion. Was he ridiculing her? "Something bothering you, dear?"
Emma's hair hung like a curtain around her face, blocking him from view. Where was Ruby when you needed her? Wasn't she supposed to get rid of unwanted customers? Maybe Granny should hire a bouncer.
To her displeasure, Gold stripped off the black gloves he was wearing and, reaching out, he brushed her hair back from her jaw and tucked the strands behind her ear. His fingers caressed her skin and it sent a shiver down her spine. It also earned him her undivided attention and a slap to the hand.
"That seat's taken," Emma huffed, meeting his gaze for the first time. There was always something about the depths of his chocolate-brown eyes that threatened to draw her in, like a formidable whirlpool sucking the floor from beneath her feet. She wasn't aware that she was leaning forward until she could feel his warm breath on her skin.
The spell broke as Gold made a sarcastic 'O' with his mouth.
"Is that so? It troubles me to inform you…there's a good chance you've been stood up." Gold rested his arms on the bar and leaned toward her, his elegant cologne wafting around her body. Slowly, his lips curled into an impish grin. "Technically, this seat belongs to me. I own this town. I own this diner. I own this seat. I have half a mind to charge you for that stool which your attractive little behind is currently occupying."
Did she hear him wrong? Or did he just point out that she had a cute ass?
She didn't know what bothered her more—the fact that Gold had obviously done some checking out in her presence or the fact that Ruby was red-faced and crying…no, laughing into a dishtowel. Great; with her luck the Daily Mirror would be advertising her assets on the front page. I can see it now, she thought bitterly. Feeling lonely? Call the Deputy.
"If you're here to call in that favor, just do it and get it over with so I can go back to sulking," she moaned. Gold's grin intensified and a thick knot formed in her belly. Oh, no…what if his favor was something downright repulsive? Or even illegal? She'd never considered what he might have in store for her.
"So eager, aren't we?"
Emma felt all the color drain from her cheeks. No way would Gold do something raunchy with his favor in public, would he? No way he'd risk ruining his reputation. A bead of sweat dripped from the base of her hair, granting a low chuckle from Gold. He clasped her elbow and his touch seared her to the bone.
"Relax, dear. The time for my favor has not yet presented itself. Is it so strange for a man like me to wander down to his local diner to nurse a drink before turning into bed?" Emma touched a finger to her lips, feigning thought.
"Yes, it is. You're never the type to do something without a reason, Gold. Everything comes with a price with you," she retorted, scooting away. Maybe if she changed spots, he would get the hint and wouldn't follow her. It was wishful thinking, spurred on by the alcohol.
Why did she always have to attract the creepy ones? Was it so much to ask that she reel in a considerate, normal human being like…like…Graham?
"You know me so well, Emma," Gold appraised her with a whisper, defiantly keeping her on the stool with his grip still weighing on the crook of her elbow. The old man was stronger than he looked. It was almost like fighting through steel. "I suggest you settle down. Just because I have a lame leg doesn't mean I'm not capable of playing musical chairs."
Emma grumbled, but resigned to sinking back onto the stool. Gritting her teeth, she peeled off Gold's fingers from her arm. She wouldn't be surprised if there were bruises there tomorrow. In a flash of blinding red, Ruby strode over to take Gold's order. Emma could swear her lips were still trembling with hidden laughter.
"I'll have what she's having," Gold pointed to Emma, who was content with burying her head in her hands.
There was a clink of glass and Ruby's heels clicked across the floor as she strutted off, purposefully leaving the two of them alone. Emma glanced up to see that Ruby had served her another drink. As if she needed one. Oh, well. Emma was capable of holding three, after all.
"Lovely couple, aren't they?"
Emma followed the direction of Gold's gaze to a booth in the corner. Seated there were David and Kathryn Nolan, enjoying a dinner together. Their hands were awkwardly clasped, as if the two of them knew how strenuous their relationship had become after David woke from his coma, but were still trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. If she could read minds, she was pretty sure David's thoughts were screaming Mary Margaret Blanchard.
And yet…Emma felt a pang of longing in her chest. Never had she been even remotely close to someone before, not even when it came to Henry's father. It was the one thing she wanted, and the one thing she wasn't sure she'd ever trust herself to have.
"Yeah, real romantic," she spouted, turning back to her drink. Why was Gold watching her so intently? It was creeping her out more than usual. The sharp click of Ruby's heels returned as the waitress set Gold's drink in front of him with an unfriendly frown. Just because they were paying rent to the man didn't mean they had to praise him with sunshine.
"Thank you, dear," Gold nodded to her, but Ruby was already spinning on her heel. Emma didn't miss the look of warning in the waitress' sultry eyes. She cast it off; she was a big girl. She could handle herself fairly well when it came to shady men like Gold. Gold, who was now smirking at her and raising his glass. "A toast to the late Sheriff Graham."
Emma started to lift her glass, only to balk at the pawnbroker.
"How is it that you know everything?" She studied his face, but could not detect a shred of a clue beyond the cunning and turning of the wheels that reflected in his deep eyes. If Sidney ever put Gold in charge of Storybrooke's gossip column, the residents of this town would be screwed.
"I have my ways, Emma," he drawled. "A great magician never reveals his secrets." Right. So Gold was a magician now. Maybe he was the one fueling Henry's theories along recently.
Gold brought his glass closer to her, gesturing for that toast. Sighing, Emma didn't see much harm in paying respects to Graham. Despite his tie to Regina, she sensed Storybrooke just lost a good man.
Their glasses clinked, sending a sharp trill through the diner. She could feel the weight of Gold's stare as she lifted the glass to her lips and took a long swallow, the alcohol burning its way down her throat. She didn't know if Gold ever took a sip of his drink, and she didn't care. She'd be better off not carting him into the station tonight.
"Seriously, why are you here?" Emma inclined her head, which felt a tad bit woozy. It was the sensation that often came during a cold; full sinuses, a cloudy head that made walking feel like trudging through water. Was she coming down with something?
As she forced herself to focus on Gold, everything in the diner seemed to melt into the background. The soft chatter faded to nothing, Ruby's heels ceased clicking until it was barely a whisper on the wind. She began to notice small details that originally escaped her; the way Gold's eyes surveyed her and roved over her skin pleasurably, the fact that his white dress shirt was not buttoned all the way, exposing some of his smooth skin underneath, the presence of his hand resting so closely on the bar though it did not brush over hers.
Even more crazy was the notion that she wanted it to. Longed for it, like a thirst that refused to be quelled. She recalled the way his fingers had caressed her hair back from her face and lingered a second longer than they should have.
God, she must be drunk. Did drunk people know they were drunk? If you were thinking you were drunk, did it mean you were still somewhat sober?
And now his lips were parting to answer her question, which she'd all but forgotten. Briefly, she wondered what it would feel like to kiss someone like Gold, even as his tongue darted out across the top of his lip. She shook her head vehemently; what was wrong with her tonight? Graham must have messed her up worse than she thought.
"How would you feel about an alliance…with me? Let's say a sort of union between us." Emma took another generous sip of her drink. Maybe if she drank enough, there wouldn't be any room for any thought whatsoever.
"You mean like marriage?"
Marriage. That sounded like a good word to use. Alliance and marriage could go hand in hand in Gold's world, couldn't they? Her eyes strayed back to David and Kathryn, who were paying their bill and gathering their belongings. David and Kathryn were married and they seemed to be working things out. Marriage. Hmm.
Gold cleared his throat and she suddenly strained her ears to catch every syllable of his silky Scottish accent. She liked men with accents. Graham had an accent, except Graham wasn't here anymore. Gold was.
"Well, my insinuation was not so blunt. And I doubt marriage would be in your best interest," he responded all too calmly. Emma's attention snapped back to him. Was he implying that she would be a bad wife? Or that she couldn't handle marriage? Sitting back on her stool, she glared at him.
"Are you saying you wouldn't marry me?" He waved his hand impatiently, casting the idea off as silly. Ridiculous. Unimaginable.
"Marriage is tricky, Emma. I'm not sure you can handle it." There it was. Straight from the horse's mouth.
Anger flushed her cheeks—or maybe that was a result of her noticing how perfect and in place Gold's hair always seemed to be. From here, it looked so soft and inviting…she curled her fingers into her palms as she imagined running her fingers through the strands. A warm blush rose to her cheeks.
"Oh, really? You know, I am twenty-eight years old, I've had a kid, but I've never once been married. In this town, I probably never will be." Emma gazed around the diner and emotionlessly surveyed the handful of patrons. A decent chance of love in this town—especially after what just happened to Graham—was slim to none.
"Oh, Emma. If you want something badly enough, all you have to do is take it," Gold advised as he lifted his glass to his lips. He removed a fine black handkerchief and dabbed the extra moisture from his mouth. "Why wait another day of age?"
The thoughts in her head were jumbled, spinning endlessly. Spinning like a never-ending wheel. Why wait? Marriage….would it be so bad? Gold claimed she couldn't handle it, but that was a lie. This would be her chance to prove him wrong about something, to see that devilish smirk fall from his face.
"Okay," she ultimately decided. "I will."
Gold nearly choked on his drink. Did he really not believe she would take him up for the challenge? Did he believe she would not be interested? As far as she was concerned, he was the most interesting person in this diner at the moment. How had she never noticed his charisma? Or maybe that was the drink talking; it was hard to tell, anymore.
"Will what?" Emma rolled her eyes. As if he didn't know. Gold knew everything, right?
"Well, who else do you expect me to marry? Leroy?"
Now, that was a funny idea. Just imagine her announcing to Mary Margaret that she was planning on marrying Leroy, the town drunk. They could spend their lunchtime together, eating sandwiches and sharing a bottle of wine. Granted, Leroy would be separated from her by bars…Yeah, she could hear the divorce papers being signed now.
"Let me get this straight, dear," Gold said as he pointed a steady finger at her. Emma longed to reach out and make contact with his hand, but instead fought the urge by folding her arms on the bar. If he noticed her struggle, he never mentioned it. "You are in agreement with the notion of marriage…to me?"
The smile curved across the corners of her lips before Gold was even finished posing the question. Leaning forward, she watched as his eyes gleamed in the yellow light of the diner, watching her every move like a hungry vulture.
"I'll put it in words you can understand, Gold. Deal." And she took another sip of her drink.
…
With one arm around her waist, Gold led his new bride up the walkway toward the oddly pink house that they would now be sharing. Emma's eyes were still unfocused, glazed by the alcohol and the special ingredient he'd added to the mixture. He liked the way her head had settled on his shoulder. It had been a long time since he'd been a married man.
What kind of hell would he be in tomorrow when she awoke in a bed not her own? Thrown vases and swinging knives, no doubt. Perhaps he should hide the knives, just in case.
Emma moaned into his ear as he unlocked the door and he squeezed her tighter against him.
"It's good to be home," she whispered, her words a tad bit slurred. Right. Home. Such an optimistic outlook. He smirked as he flung open the door and guided her across the threshold. Most men would have carried her, but then again most men weren't sporting a cane.
"I would offer you a grand tour, dear, but something tells me you won't remember it tomorrow morning." He'd be lucky if she didn't remember what he'd just done, either. It'd certainly save him from paying those expensive hospital bills.
Setting his cane by the door, he noticed that Emma was wide-eyed, observing the house with immense wonder. His gaze traveled to the clutter in the living room. Maybe he should have cleaned up a bit.
"Your estate is enormous. Regina must be jealous." A low snicker rose from his throat; Emma was oblivious to it. Yes, Regina was quite jealous of his rather large estate. Except for the fact that she nearly died of laughter over his pink house every time she passed it. Which was more than he thought possible.
Why did everyone call it pink? Any sane, reasonable person could tell it was salmon.
"I think we ought to get you to bed," he suggested, ambling over to wrap his arm around Emma once more. Those stairs would be like climbing Mount Olympus. Forget a proper security system for his shop; he needed an elevator.
Instead of following his lead, Emma shifted in his embrace until her body was firmly pressed against his, her arms entwined around his neck. This was the closest she had ever been to him before. It stirred something deep inside him, something he'd been certain had died with Belle. A wicked smile painted her lips, the scent of cinnamon left on her breath.
"That sounds like a good idea. It is our wedding night, right?" Wait. She thought he meant…? Oh, that lust concoction must have been a larger dose than he intended. It certainly put a nice pink blush in Emma's cheeks, even as her fingers traced the length of his tie.
It should have worn off by now, though. Did he perhaps put a little too much? It was hard to miss the way she had been mentally undressing him in the diner. And now Emma was urging his head down to meet hers, begging him for a kiss. The way the heat was scorching his body, he wasn't overly confident that he was inclined to neglect her request.
"Emma," he gasped, placing his hands on her shoulders in an attempt to drive her backward. Stubbornly, she held on, her arms locked in a death grip around his neck. She was like a child, demanding to be satisfied. Sighing, he let her hold onto him, her fingers snaking across his shoulder blades. "You're not in your right mind."
"Are you saying you don't want me? Then why did you marry me?" Her lips were inches away, tempting him. As though with a life of its own, his hand slid along the small of her back, holding her against him. She couldn't escape if she wanted to.
The moment her lips brushed the curve of his own, he lost it. Any rational control he had was tossed to the winds as he crushed her against him and kissed her full-force on the lips. Hard. His hands roamed to her hips, up to the hem of her shirt.
Oh, he wanted her so much; it was like a thick, unbearable black fire licking at his bones—
No.
Something inside him pulled back, splashing logic as frigid as ice-water over his brain. There were many vile, monstrous things he'd done in the past centuries, but taking immoral advantage of a young woman was never one of them.
If he was going to take her for his own, stake his claim, he wanted her to be completely willing. Lust concoctions, no matter the favorable loophole, didn't count.
Reluctantly, he stopped kissing her and started retreating. This night was not the proper night to drown in Emma. With lips still swollen from the strength of their kiss, Emma stared at him in bewilderment.
"What's wrong? Don't tell me that was your first kiss?"
Oh, wasn't she simply amusing in this state of mind? Worth a laugh, wasn't she? Besides, his first kiss was nowhere near that intimate or exciting. He'd been accidentally locked in a barn with a village girl for seven whole minutes, enough time for her to decide to tackle him into the hay and kiss him. In this world, that kind of thing was done at parties for fun.
"You'll regret it in the morning," he insisted tiredly. And he'd be rudely awakened with a suspicious cane-shaped object to the head. No need to be sporting another head wound from an overly emotional woman. "I'm only considering your best interests."
Emma's confusion melted into enticement. Why was she smiling so seductively? Was she trying to work her charms on him? She must have earned that from her mother. Charming was absolutely charmless.
Maybe it wasn't exactly encouraging to be thinking of his potential in-laws while Emma looked ready to pounce on him.
"I can decide my own best interests," she retorted defiantly. As he watched, halted in shock, she lifted her shirt up and off, flinging it somewhere on the floor. Underneath was a lacy red bra and he tried not to admire her exposed flesh that was now prickling with goose-bumps. Trying…and failing. "Like what you see?"
Oh, gods, the heat was intensifying between his legs. His stomach coiled with want. Ferociously, he bit down on his tongue until he could taste the coppery-metallic residue of blood.
"I've seen better," he mumbled. It sounded unconvincing even to his ears. The way Emma's eyebrows rose suggested she knew it, too. The corners of her lips tightened as she revealed that she was wearing panties that matched that lacy bra.
Kicking the discarded jeans to the side, she sauntered to him, once more wrapping her arms around his neck. Staring up into the depths of his brown eyes as if he were her personal Prince Charming. Not even his first wife looked at him that way.
"Do you still not want me?" It was a thin whisper, grazing his jaw, delicate as butterfly's wings. All the while, his mind was paralyzed with the situation at hand.
Emma was half-naked. Half-naked and lounging in his arms. His for the taking, practically begging for it. It was their wedding night, after all. Maybe Emma wouldn't remember…
Oh, he was going to regret this.
Swiftly, he bent and scooped her up into his arms. She gave a little gasp and he smirked. The injury of his leg was an illusion to most; he was stronger than he looked. Didn't mean it wouldn't be sore in the morning, but at the moment he didn't really care. Perhaps Regina would hear of their jovial union and interpret his limp differently.
One by one, he climbed the steps to the second floor, Emma's lips brushing the skin of his neck. Tiny little kisses, warmed by her breath. By now, it was almost painful to walk and not because he was carrying such a generous load. Oh, no—far from it.
He brought her to his bedroom, pausing at the edge of the black silk-sheeted master bed. The place where all the magic happened.
And then he dumped her flat on the bed.
"What are you doing?" Immediately, she sat upright in the middle of the bed when she realized he wouldn't be joining her between the sheets. Instead, he focused on gathering his pillow and an extra blanket from the closet.
"As I told you, darling. You should get some sleep." He limped toward the hall, fighting not to glance over at her and be caught under that inevitable spell. His walls could only block out so much, just as her lovely voice made him stop on the threshold.
"Where are you going?" Her voice was fading, becoming more slurred than before. He guessed it wouldn't be long before she collapsed into a deep sleep, her memories of tonight blackened and allowing her to revert to her usual self. Too bad. This could have been a fun wedding night.
"To sleep on the couch." With any luck, the intense throbbing would reside within the hour. He doubted it. "Sweet dreams, Emma." He gazed back once to meet her green eyes in the darkness, but she was already buried in the bed, asleep.
…..
For the first time in a long time, Gold was able to complete his suit with a genuine smile that morning. Ruby certainly seemed surprised to hear him thank her extra enthusiastically for the coffee, even if she might have spiked or otherwise defiled it. Maybe now she'd feel guilty.
Everything was great between him and Emma—honestly, he woke up feeling like the happiest man in Storybrooke and expressed it as much every time he kissed Emma's vastly growing belly. There were hardly any problems in Storybrooke at the moment besides Regina's daily scheduled rage-fest, otherwise known as town meetings.
Even better: they had an ultrasound planned for today. It sent a thrill through his bones as he finished taking early inventory in his shop for the day—pretty soon, he'd be watching his little one squirming around on a screen, nestled comfortably in Emma's belly. Their little one. He already sensed that it would be a girl; Morraine, as they agreed.
Instinctively, and for the umpteenth time, he checked the time. Cursing under his breath, he stowed the dusty rag under the register and gathered up his cane. If he didn't get going, he would be late to the appointment. Emma would never let him live it down. No doubt he'd be massaging her swollen feet for a week without just rewards in his favor.
And that was precisely when the bell over the shop's entrance jingled.
Fingers curling over the silver head of his cane, he gritted his teeth in utmost annoyance. Why was it that these fools decided to come to him only when it was most inconvenient? Did they have radar for the best times to bother him?
"Disregard the fact that your presence is causing me to be late for an appointment. What ever can I help you with?" Slowly, he turned around, expecting to see one of the hazy-brained citizens of Storybrooke shaking in their boots under his ferocious displeasure.
Oh, how wrong he was. Where was this so-called end of the world when he needed it?
It was Regina, his absolute least favorite customer. He'd rather listen to David Nolan chirp about his plans with Mary Margaret, including but not limited to the secret picnic that he was planning to spring on her, wine and all. Too bad Gold "accidentally" slipped it to Ruby.
"Sorry to make you late for that appointment," the mayor remarked with the most sinister of smirks. Yeah, right, she was sorry. As sorry as someone who purposefully sped up as the chicken crossed the road. "I hope it wasn't important."
Forcing a grin, he resolved to resting his hands flat on the counter in an attempt to restrain himself from strangling her throat or chucking her straight out of his shop. At this rate, he might as well burn that Closed sign, for all the good it did him.
"Of course not. It just happened to be an ultrasound for my unborn child," he spat at her, his voice dripping with acid. Regina grinned coldly as she drifted to one of the display cases. Oh, she was getting her grubby fingerprints all over the glass.
"Congratulations," she hissed. Coming from anyone else, it would be a token of warmth and sincerity. Coming from the Queen, it sounded more like an unwanted curse to have a mini-Gold running around her town. He might as well have just told her he was dying of cancer, except she would be doing the opposite with that news; she'd be jumping for joy. Hell, she'd start a parade in the middle of the street.
"Why are you here? Come to complain that you've not received an invitation to the baby shower?" Regina's lip curled in a vicious sneer as she spun on her heel. Gods, he immensely enjoyed getting her all riled up. It was so much fun to see her squirm.
"Actually, I'm here to tell you that I've found something quite interesting about you. Or, rather, Sidney has," she taunted. Dangling a piece of meat on a silver hook. Well, he wasn't biting just yet. Given her smugness, he figured he didn't have to. Her impulsiveness and eagerness to win one over on him made her quite predictable.
"Alright, I confess. There is an Emma shrine in my basement. I've even begun crafting an ice sculpture of her." Regina's eyes boggled and she lurched forward in surprise. There was an audible snap as her heel broke. He was forced to clear his throat to keep from bursting out in cruel laughter. Oh, and that was her favorite pair, too. Whoops.
"Seriously?" He rolled his eyes.
"No."
Regina stared hard at him, as if trying to figure out whether he was lying. Judging by the crinkling of her nose, she was beginning to fume in anger. That was always the cherry on top, wasn't it? Fumbling around in her little black suit, Regina pulled out a thin manila envelope. He gazed down at it in her hands as if he could somehow catch a glimpse of the contents.
"Ah, you've received my fan mail by accident again?" Regina's smile faltered for a brief second. It returned as quickly as lightning while she slipped a fingernail under the fold of the envelope and drew it open. He hoped she got a paper-cut. Dark gaze never falling from his face, she dramatically waved her fingers before reaching inside. "Shall I start the drumroll?"
Regina ignored his quips, lifting a piece of paper from the envelope. Perhaps it was a bit of fan-mail after all, except for the fact that it was miserably blank. Peering closer, he noticed the shop's lighting shining off the paper, glossy and smooth. It was a photo.
"This is a very revealing shot of you, Gold," she mocked. Though he tried to disguise his oncoming anxiety, a cold bead of sweat trickled over his eyebrow. Was it from that pathetic guys' night out? Or a false memory of his college days? From what he could falsely remember, he was quite wild.
Ever so swiftly, Regina flicked the photo around for him to see. It was…oh, gods, it was…
It was Ruby.
He stood stunned for what felt like a year as he scrutinized the young waitress in the photo. Oh, yes, she was absolutely right. This was a very revealing photo of him indeed. He almost giggled at the sheer ridiculousness and relief that swept through his chest.
"Ah, yes. Who knew I wore red shorts so provocatively?" That was the purpose of her visit? To shove a picture of Ruby in his face and claim it had something to do with him? No one would buy that. The smile was creasing along his lips, too forceful to resist. "Or is this perhaps your new bestie?"
Regina flashed him an impatient glare, which only made him want to giggle even harder. Ruby and Regina as friends, now that was worth a laugh. He supposed they'd be painting each other's toenails and curling their hair and gossiping about which guys in Storybrooke had the most attractive build. Perhaps they'd even go on a double date—if anyone ever agreed to be Regina's little pet.
"I'm glad you find this so amusing. I suggest you take a closer look." Before he could stop her, Regina's hand whipped out to grab the magnifying glass that rested on the display case. She held it up to a corner of the photo, instantly making one small section clearer. The glee died from his face, the knuckles of his hand turning white as it gripped his cane.
Oh, this was so much worse than college days.
"Not so enthusiastic now, are we?" Regina sent the magnifying glass clattering to the counter, but the image was already burned into his mind. The image of him pouring that lust ingredient into Emma's drink on the night of Graham's death. The night they were wed. Damn.
Regina's icy laughter rose from her throat and she swung the photo back and forth, his brown eyes following it like a treat to be won. Was she going to make him beg for it?
"What would your dear, precious swan think if she laid eyes on this photo?" What would Emma think? Well, he was sure she'd be the type to throw a hairdryer at his head. Oh, how he wanted to wipe that victorious smirk off the Queen's face. He didn't know why she was so confident—she hadn't truly won yet.
"Give me that photo…please," he requested, extending his hand for it.
This was it; he'd won over her yet again. Regina should have been outright cursing as she complied to his command. She had no choice, after all. Which was why it confused him that she was still standing in the same spot, ignoring it. She never made a move to obey.
"I don't think I will," she retorted, sliding her lacquered fingernails along the edge of the photo. He tilted his head in warning to her, his eyes narrowing. When had she ever bucked up the courage to say no to him about their little deals? His eyes strayed to the ugly, gruesome puppets resting on the display case behind her. Perhaps when he obtained magic again, he'd transform her into Malibu Barbie.
"Excuse me?"
Regina strode up to the display case, leaning harshly over it until their faces were inches apart. He tried to reach out and rip the photo from her grip, but she switched it to her other hand. Now they were playing a game? Cat and mouse?
"You're always one for technicalities, aren't you? There's always a loophole."
Muscles growing rigid, he was unable to break her gaze. No way. There was absolutely no possibility that she'd found a loophole in one of his contracts. Who the hell did she think she was—the miller's daughter? Regina grinned, her red lips curling over her pearly-white teeth.
"Let's see…what was it you said when we made that deal? Oh, right. Should I come to you for any reason, you must heed my every request."
He was so glad she could demonstrate that she had a good memory. Except now his words were mocking him, his mind picking out the very loophole she'd discovered. Should I come to you for any reason….but this time it was not he who went to Regina. She had come crawling to him and that changed things. His please was null and void.
Oh, she was definitely becoming Malibu Barbie…without the Mercedes and indoor swimming pool.
"What do you want?" The words were choked out through his clenched teeth. He hated it when the tables turned so unexpectedly. Still clutching that awful photo, Regina tried pacing in front of the display case. Well, she managed to limp with her broken heel; up, down, up, down, up, down.
"All I ask is that you help me with my Snow White and Charming problem. The two of them keep kissing in the middle of the street and blocking traffic," she declared. There was more than what she was currently saying. He waited for it, counting down with his fingers behind his back. Three, two, one…"I want to get rid of Kathryn Nolan. I want Mary Margaret to take the blame and I want her to suffer as she rightly deserves."
Ah, so there it was. Revenge for a twelve year old's betrayal. In his mind, he mulled over her pathetic scrap of a plan. Regina was blissfully unaware of it, but she'd just handed him the opportunity to take revenge on her for this little act of control she was pulling over him. Handed it to him on a silver platter with a glorious, sparkling bow.
"It's about time you came up with a plan of your own, flawed as it may be. Still, if something tragic were to happen to Kathryn Nolan, you could pin it on Mary Margaret quite efficiently. Set her up," he explained as he circled the counter to stand before the Mayor. Look at that—they were about the same height now.
Gods, she was a foolish woman, smiling like the village idiot.
"Exactly. So, it's a deal." He held up a hand to stop her abruptly.
"Not just yet. First, I want my charges dropped from that…sticky situation with Moe French," he said. Regina's lips twisted in an unhappy pout.
"This is not up for debate. I'm the one setting the terms of this deal, not you." Yes, that's what she liked to believe. Always the headstrong mayor. What was the old saying? You could lead a cow to water? Carelessly, he shrugged.
"Then I suppose it's your loss, Madame Mayor. It'll be a tad bit difficult to frame Mary Margaret and stick her in a jail cell while I myself am otherwise imprisoned. I don't think the judge will approve of her lawyer sharing the cell opposite hers."
The thought seemed to occur to her even as he pointed it out. What did she expect him to do? Argue Mary Margaret's case behind bars? Obtain a key and sneak out at midnight to put everything in order, then sneak back in before Emma noticed he was gone?
"Fine. Do we have a deal?" Regina extended her hand, but he sneered at it. She really was horrible with blackmail.
"Sorry, dearie. I'm a bit of a germaphobe today," he said. Just for show, he broke out the little vial of hand sanitizer he kept in one of the pockets of his suit and rubbed some on his palms. "Mm…vanilla. Care to smell?" He thrust his hand toward her, just to convince her to leave his shop all the more quickly.
Scrunching her nose, Regina slapped his hand away and took an uneven step backwards. There'd be no strutting in those heels.
"Ugh! Who knows where your slimy hands have been!" He folded his vanilla-scented hands atop his cane and smirked.
"Emma does." That made Regina balk even more. If he was lucky, she'd have a most unwanted mental image stuck in her head for the rest of the day. Throwing her hands in the air in frustration, she tossed the manila envelope and photo on the display case and stormed out. He hoped she enjoyed limping back to her office.
Stepping forward, he swiped the photo off the display case and tucked it back into its envelope. Sweeping through the back room, he hobbled over to his desk and placed it in the first drawer. He'd deal with it later.
Perhaps he'd send it to August and make him paranoid that Ruby was tantalizing him all the more. He'd kick back with some of Granny's iced tea and watch Stubble jump into a dumpster each time Ruby crossed paths with him. It would certainly solve that disgusting cologne problem of his. Who did he think he was impressing?
Glancing back up at the clock, his stomach plummeted like a roller coaster. He was late for a very important date.
….
So what will Gold do to try and win Emma over? You'll have to wait and find out! As always, I am completely amazed and grateful for all the reviews that this story has received! By the way, how did you all enjoy the latest episode of Once (those of you who were able to watch)?
Also, I'd like to make a little announcement. Think of it more as an advertisement. For those of you who enjoy reading the Abridged series, word is that it shall return a week from today (unless otherwise changed by the author DaesGatling). There are also sneak peeks and trailers for the previous Season 2 episodes that I highly recommend. End of advertisement.
I have so many reviewers to thank this time. Cheers to DeasGatling, olverabonk, Twyla Mercedes, russianeyes715ouat7ncis, ekletik, dirty-icing, madmonkeyqueen, KendraLuehr, Outlaw Jessie James, SweetAngelz18, Tizmine, Fairy Demon26, discotimelord, brontegirl89, thedoctorsgirl42, Guest, The-Writer2012, megumisakura, BlooperLover, DragonRose4, ImmortalisCharitas, and Duffer13.
Until next week, guys!