A/N: Thank you to all who followed and favourited. There is some violence in this chapter, you probably won't be surprised to learn.

Josephine M, anna4bates, ecinspired, jewel415, deweymay, RaFire, Hero7632, Erik'sTrueAngel, spacecats, AngelOfMusic44, OneMagician, Kiri Huo Ziv, Wondermorena, karolprado, quirkym, crazykat77, savinglives44: you all inspire me to keep on writing. Thank you!


It was fifteen minutes before there was a knock on the door again, and Gold had been almost beside himself with rage and anticipation. It appeared that the patience he had long been blessed with had disappeared somewhat when he took on the curse of the Dark One. He would have to remember that, if he was to avoid making rash decisions.

"Come," said Midas abruptly, and the door opened, to reveal the largest man that Gold had ever seen. He was as tall as Dover, but far broader, with a deep barrel chest and thick arms the size of small tree trunks. The suit he was wearing would have to be custom-made. His face was flat and oddly expressionless, small, hard eyes peering out from underneath a heavy brow, his head shaven and his mouth a thin slash beneath a large, bulbous nose.

Good God, he's even uglier than I am, was Gold's first thought, followed by: The Ogre? Well, if the cap fits…

"You wanted to see me, sir?" The man's voice was a gravelly whisper, faintly accented.

"Indeed." Midas poured a second glass of whisky, and offered it to him. "I have a job for you, Mr Halvor. Two, as it happens. I believe it requires someone of your – unique abilities."

Halvor grunted as he accepted the whisky. "Names?"

Midas flourished the picture of Jefferson. "His name is Jefferson Milliner. I don't want him dead, necessarily, I just want to know why he was here. Take whatever steps you deem necessary."

Halvor scanned the picture briefly before tucking it into his pocket. "And the other?"

"Mr Gold," said Midas. "I could get you a picture, but I doubt it's necessary. He is infamous in the town he owns, Storybrooke. He's a small, thin man, walks with a cane. Longish hair, early fifties."

The man sneered slightly. "And you need me to take care of him? Not that I am questioning your methods, you understand, sir."

"It's a fair question," said Midas cheerfully. "Mr Gold has – certain abilities. We have a lot of history together, and I'm well aware of his capacity for violence. He has recently bested two of my men, and killed one of them in a most distasteful fashion. He may look harmless, but he is extremely effective with that cane of his. I need someone who will be immune to the sort of pain he can easily mete out."

The Ogre grunted. "And what am I to do to him when I find him?"

"Oh, kill him, of course," said Midas indifferently. "But bring me his girl. Make sure he knows you're taking her before he dies. She's short, petite, blue eyes, dark brown curls. Quite delicious. And not for anyone's pleasure but mine." His eyes hardened at that last, and Gold began plotting his painful death with renewed interest. Flaying was clearly too good for him.

Halvor nodded. "Anything else, sir?"

"Smee may be going with you," added Midas. "Gold owns a pawn shop in Storybrooke. I told Smee he could take what he wanted. If he doesn't turn up on time, don't wait for him, though."

"I shall leave tomorrow, sir," nodded Halvor. "Unless you wish me to go tonight?"

"No, no, tomorrow's fine," said Midas, waving a hand. "Just ensure you aren't seen. The police have been sniffing around here ever since they shut down that house of mine, and my bribery payments are becoming irritatingly large." He frowned. "I've been wondering if I have Gold to thank for that, too. It has the whiff of his involvement."

Gold grinned to himself. So. The young girls were his. Figures, the sick bastard.

"Would you like me to find out, sir?"

"If you can," nodded Midas. "I have the utmost faith in your abilities to obtain information from the most reluctant people. Take as much time as you need, but I expect a report in a week at the latest. Usual rules on expenses."

"Very well, sir." The Ogre nodded with a slight bow, shouldering his way back out through the door. Gold followed him, shooting a final look at Midas as he went. It appeared the bastard would keep.

Mindful that there may be other cameras in the casino's corridors, he remained invisible as he walked to Midas's office, which was on the next floor. Locking the door behind him, and finding the room empty and dark, he shook off the glamour, and turned on the lights, having checked for a security camera and found nothing. He was aware that Midas kept his safe in the office, full of valuables that he chose, for one reason or another, not to display at that time. Gold had no interest in the jewels and trinkets stashed within, and opened the safe with a twist of magic, eyes gleaming as he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a large leather divider, stuffed with documents, and started to look through them.

His lips curled into a smile as he found what he was looking for. Deeds to the casino, to other properties in Boston and beyond. There were bank accounts, containing eye-watering sums of money. He frowned, drumming his fingers on the mahogany desk as he pondered what to do with that. The money was tainted by association with that scumbag, but that didn't mean it shouldn't be put to good use. He made a note of the account numbers, aware that he could put his plans into action when he returned to Storybrooke.

Shoving the bank statements back in the folder, he picked up the property deeds he had put to one side, and prepared a particularly complex piece of magic, which would ensure that any changes made to the documents would be repeated on any copies held, and any electronic records relating to them. The spell even created documents transferring the properties from Midas's name, or from the names of his various holding companies, into those of the recipients. He was excessively pleased with himself at the cleverness of this particular enchantment. After thinking for a moment, he changed the deeds to the casino into Regina's name, feeling that it was adequate recompense for her mother's murder. He knew Belle would not accept any of the properties for herself, and frankly he owned enough property himself for it not to be an issue. Instead, he transferred some of the apartment buildings owned by Midas into the names of Doc, Ruby, Emma, Snow and Jefferson. The remainder were transferred into the name of a charity for abused women. He found it fitting.

Having single-handedly destroyed the majority of Midas's empire without the man's knowledge, he chuckled to himself, and closed up the safe, locking it with magic before putting his glamour back on and exiting the room. Now, to pay a visit to Mr Smee.


Smee hurried along the back street to his pawnshop, casting his eyes furtively from left to right as he went. He was practically rubbing his hands at the thought of getting into Gold's pawnshop and taking whatever he wanted. He had agonised over whether he should go to Midas with the information on Jefferson, knowing that to do so would burn his bridges with Gold in the most irreparable way, but he had counted on Midas's lack of interest in the pawnshop coupled with his generosity for those that did him a service. With Gold's merchandise as well as his own, he was one step closer to realising his dreams of buying a boat and getting the hell out of Boston. His mind flitted back to the redhead, Ariel, and he entertained a brief fantasy about taking her with him. Perhaps Midas would let her go, once he had Gold's girl to play with.

Smee dug in his pocket for the key to his shop, the tip of his tongue poking out from between his lips as he frowned in concentration. He scurried the few remaining yards to the door, looking around himself before pushing the key into the lock and letting himself in. The shop was dark and silent. He locked the door after him, shooting the bolts at top and bottom and ensuring that the shutters were rolling down before switching on the light.

"Mr Smee." A familiar voice, possibly the last one that Smee had wanted to hear, made him yelp and stumble over his own feet, bracing himself against one of the display cabinets. The one that Gold had smashed on his last little visit.

"G-Gold?" Smee looked around wildly, and a figure stepped out of the shadows. Gold was dressed as impeccably as always, his black suit teamed with a dark red shirt and tie, but there was something different about him that Smee couldn't put his finger on.

"H-How did you get in?" he asked, and the man before him gave a tiny, cold smile.

"I have my methods," he said pleasantly. "Where have you been?"

"I – I…" Smee stumbled. He tried to smile, but the resulting twist of his lips was more of an uncertain grimace. He shrugged slightly. "Oh – you know – a little business."

"I see." Gold was eyeing him closely, and Smee had the uncomfortable feeling that he could read his mind. He tried to think about anything other than where he'd just been, in case it was true.

"What can I do for you?" he asked instead, and Gold pursed his lips, beginning to pace slowly around him.

"I believe you and I have a little unfinished business," he said softly, and Smee swallowed hard, the tip of his tongue slipping out to wet his lips.

"Oh?" he asked nervously, backing away instinctively. "I – I wasn't aware of any deal that you and I…"

"Ah," said Gold, nodding slowly. "So you don't recall speaking with Midas and telling him all about our last little encounter, then? After I'd specifically told you not to?"

Smee looked genuinely scared, now. He held up placating hands, backing up further until his heels knocked against the glass cabinets at the rear of the shop.

"Look, Gold, I was in the hospital! They had me doped up to the eyeballs on painkillers! I had no idea what I was saying! Midas? I – I don't even remember him being there!" He was babbling, his eyes wide with fear. It may even have been the truth, and had Gold not heard every word that had passed between him and Midas that evening, he may have decided to be merciful. The Dark One, however, was not interested in mercy.

"Because of your betrayal," he said softly. "The woman I love was kidnapped and almost raped by one of Midas's thugs."

Smee looked terrified, but there was also a strange curiosity in his eyes.

"You love her?" he whispered. "The inventor's daughter? I – I had no idea."

"More than anything," said Gold calmly, and Smee's look of fear suddenly turned sly.

"Look, Gold, maybe we can help one another out here," he began. "I have some information that you'd be very interested in, and I may be prepared to let you have it, if the price is right."

"And let me guess," said Gold dryly. "The price is your miserable life?"

"To start with," agreed Smee, looking hopeful. And greedy. Gold smiled, looking briefly at the floor before raising his eyes to lock on Smee's.

"You have nothing of value to me," he said simply. "Because I already know everything. I know that Midas is sending someone to kill me. I know that he wants to take Belle from me." He started walking slowing towards Smee, whose expression had gone from crafty and a little smug, to fearful once more.

"I even know," he whispered. "That you're the one that told him about Jefferson, thereby endangering his life as well. That's three lives you're responsible for, Mr Smee. How did you think I might react to that?"

"I – I…" stuttered Smee, and suddenly looked down with a slight frown on his face, before raising his head with a questioning look. "Your limp," he said stupidly, and Gold settled back on his heels with a satisfied expression on his face.

"Ah, yes," he said calmly. "No cane. I was wondering how long it would take you to notice. You recall how I gave you the thrashing you deserved last time we spoke?"

Smee nodded furiously, eyes casting from left to right to look for a way out. His thoughts went to the lockable cage in the back room where he kept his records and the larger of his two safes. If he could just get inside it… He darted to the side, and Gold let him go, watching in amusement as Smee ran through to the back of the shop and wrenched open the cage door, pulling it shut behind him and fumbling the key into his hands. Gold followed him slowly, a tiny smile on his face as he saw Smee lock the door from the inside with shaking hands and wave the key at Gold with a triumphant expression.

"Now, Gold," said Smee, breathing heavily. "Let's discuss this rationally, shall we?"

"Rationally," mused Gold, tapping a finger against his lips. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that." He caught and held Smee's gaze. "You see, I've been going through something, since last we met, Mr Smee. Not quite the man I was before. It's a little hard to explain, so perhaps I should just show you."

He waved his hands theatrically, making the red mist of his magic bloom out as he removed the glamour, and Smee stumbled backwards with a yell as he revealed his true form, leather clad, his gold-flecked skin gleaming in the dim light. Smee had fallen to the ground and was scrabbling backwards away from him as quickly as he could, until his back pressed up against the safe. His eyes were wide with terror, his pulse jumping in his throat as Gold smiled nastily.

"Wh – what are you?" stammered Smee, and Gold shrugged.

"I'm the Dark One," he said simply. "Here to do dark deeds, Mr Smee. Starting with your violent and bloody murder. Do you have any last requests?"

"P – please!" burbled Smee, his lip trembling, and Gold sighed.

"Not very original," he remarked. "Please what? Please don't kill me? Please don't peel off my skin and use it to strangle me with? Please don't pull out my innards and burn them in front of me?" His eyes gleamed as he spoke, the too-large irises shining gold in the light. Smee was panting with fear.

"Please, Gold, I…" He broke off, licking his lips, and eyed the lock. Gold smiled.

"Ah. You think you're safe? I hate to disabuse you of that notion, but…" He disappeared in the blink of an eye, reappearing inside the cage and making Smee scream with terror.

"You're – you're – a – demon!" he gasped, and Gold's mouth twitched.

"Oh yes," he said softly. "I am the stuff of nightmares, Mr Smee. Rest assured you won't be plagued by any, after tonight."

"Please…" begged Smee, holding up his hands as though he was praying. The dark, glittering thing that was Gold loomed over him, bereft of mercy.

"Now," said Gold pleasantly. "Which part of your body will you miss the least?"

"It was Midas's idea!" blurted Smee, desperately. "He wanted the girl! I never suggested that… Gold, please! I just wanted to live! He threatened me!"

"You're a liar," said Gold, curling his lip in disgust. "I was there, you miserable little rectal polyp. I heard everything you said to him. I was particularly interested in your little deal with him about the contents of my shop. You would have had me killed out of greed, Smee. You are a scourge, a liar, and a traitor. And you deserve a traitor's death."

"No!" Smee gabbled, shaking his head. "No! No! N…" He made a strangled, choking sound as Gold's hand shot out, quick as a whip, and a curl of magic deposited Smee's large pink tongue in his palm.

"I think," said Gold softly. "That this little thing has gotten you into enough trouble already, don't you?" He clenched his fist, and the tongue disappeared in a swirl of red smoke. Smee gazed at him, his face blank with terror. He had lost control of his bladder, and the scent made Gold's nose twitch. Smee's fear was intoxicating, and the Dark One rose up within Gold, filling his being with the urge to torture, to kill, to destroy. He gazed into Smee's eyes, and the bearded man noticed, before his mind became blessedly blank, that Gold's irises had gone completely black.


Some time later, Gold straightened up and cracked his knuckles, letting out a sigh of satisfaction as he surveyed his handiwork. Blood pooled on the floor, drying in sticky patches, and covered his leathers, the sharp metallic tang prickling in his nostrils. He remembered the feeling of warm blood coursing over his fingers, a thousand memories of dealing out a painful death over the long years of being the Dark One. This ending had been particularly pleasing. It had been the work of an instant to use magic to peel Smee's entire skin from his body, twist it into a rope and string him up by the neck. The thrashing body had made the strangest sounds, a choking, gargling scream as it tried to free itself from the noose. Gold had decided on the old traitor's death of hanging, drawing and quartering. He had briefly toyed with the idea of castration and impalement, but his flair for the dramatic was seduced by the idea of hanging a man with his own skin.

Gold nudged the body on the floor with his boot as he stepped carefully away from the spreading pool of blood. He had almost forgotten how much there was inside a man waiting to come out, given the right encouragement. He had ripped out the still-beating heart last of all, tearing it free as he hissed a final sentence to the dying man. You are merely the first, he had breathed, and what was left of Smee had shuddered and twitched and died. Gold had stuffed the heart in his mouth, before using magic to strike his head from his shoulders, his arms and legs from his body, and stack everything in a neat pile with the head on top. Giggling to himself, he ensured the key to the cage was safely in Smee's pocket, before transporting himself outside the locked door. Whoever got this case to investigate would have a hard time explaining that. Perhaps they'd try to, though. After they'd stopped vomiting, of course.

Gold waved his arms, ridding his clothes of the blood and stench of the late pawnbroker. The smell of blood often excited the Dark One, but after the extraordinary amount of violence he had just displayed, the monster was sleeping contentedly, and Gold was feeling calm and alert. It was good to be clean. Ensuring every trace of the blood was gone, even checking the soles of his boots and under his nails, he left the pawnshop, and made his way back to the casino. He wanted to be there for the Ogre's departure for Storybrooke, after all.


Belle had spent a restless night after Gold had left for Boston, desperately worried for him, and for what he might do. Doc left at around eleven, but the girls stayed with her, the four of them bedding down in the lounge with duvets and blankets to wait for Gold's return. Another bottle of wine meant that the other three fell asleep around one in the morning, but Belle merely dozed fitfully, waking at every tiny noise, wanting him to return, fearful of what she might see when he did. She had found it hard to embrace that part of him that was the Dark One, to remind herself that he was still the man she loved, but she was glad that she had reached out to him. She was still, however, terribly afraid that that part of him would overcome the man she knew, would drown out the Spinner and pour darkness into his soul. She awoke fully at just after four, and stumbled slowly into the kitchen to make herself some tea, leaving her three friends sleeping peacefully where they were. Ruby had twitched and moaned a few times in her sleep, and Belle hoped that the dreams she was having were pleasant.

She poured the tea, and slid onto one of the kitchen chairs, cradling a cup in her hands as she waited for Gold to return. She had a feeling it was going to be a long day.


Nils Halvor, commonly known in Midas's circle as the Ogre, got an early start on his mission for Midas, rising at six and climbing into his truck within half an hour. He was aiming to be in Storybrooke early, so that he could locate his targets and plan how he was going to obtain the information Midas wanted. At that hour of the day, Boston's roads were quiet, and he was soon out of the city and making his way towards Storybrooke, the truck eating the miles as it purred along.

He patted his pocket, where the picture of Jefferson sat, along with his own notes on what Gold and his girl looked like. He debated whether to seek out Jefferson first, or whether to choose the harder target. A bag in the trunk of his truck contained several guns, although he would prefer not to use those, along with duct tape, ropes, and a selection of what he referred to as his 'toys'. He had encouraged many a man (or woman) to spill their darkest secrets with the things that bag contained. He was looking forward to using them on Gold. Having made some enquiries, the man was regarded as something of a legend, generally feared by all who knew him, and had the capacity to be exceedingly violent. Halvor hoped that he would prove to be a worthy adversary; he had been getting almost bored with the jobs Midas had been sending him on. It was a pity the boss had slipped in that caveat about the girl; if Gold truly cared for her, then her torture would certainly have been one way to break him.

He flexed his massive shoulders and exhaled loudly, wanting to get out of the truck and stretch his legs. He had been driving for hours, and was confident that he would reach the town soon. Sure enough, as the truck wound around a corner of the road through the forest, he spied a sign, cheerfully announcing 'Welcome to Storybrooke'. Halvor dug his phone from his pocket, and dialled Midas. A voice answered, and Halvor cleared his throat.

"Mr King, please," he announced. "It's Halvor."

There was a moment of silence, then Midas's pleasant voice came on the other end of the line.

"Mr Halvor? What's your status?"

"I'm just entering Storybrooke, sir," replied the Ogre. "I'll report back as soon as I have anything to tell you."

"Excellent," said Midas. "Is Smee with you?"

"No." Halvor frowned. He disliked the little pawnbroker, thinking him untrustworthy, and was not displeased that he had not shown up at the door that morning. "He didn't show."

"No matter. It's for him to seek out what he wants of Gold's. Have you decided who you wish to target first?"

"I was just considering my options, sir," admitted Halvor, and there was the sound of Midas sucking his teeth in contemplation.

"You may want to start with Gold," he said eventually. "The man has a knack of finding things out. Wouldn't want him to be expecting you."

"Understood." Well, that simplified things.

"Call me when he's dead, Mr Halvor."

"Yes, sir." Halvor frowned slightly. "Would you like me to make it a painful one?"

"Now, why do you think I sent you?" purred Midas, and the Ogre grunted.

"I'll make him beg for death, sir," he said abruptly, and put the phone down on Midas's grim chuckle.

"Oh, I really don't think you will!" An unexpected voice made him start, and the truck swerved, almost crashing over the side of the road before he managed to wrest back control. Breathing heavily, he looked in the rear view mirror, and saw – something – crouched on the back seat. The thing's skin was greyish-green, glittering with gold, like the scales of a lizard. Too-large eyes gleamed out of its thin, grinning face, its teeth discoloured. It was caressing the barrel of one of his guns, one of the guns that had been in his bag in the trunk. The gun was pointing at his head, and he flicked his eyes back to the road before looking back.

"How...?" he asked, and the creature shook its head, tutting under its breath.

"No, no, I ask the questions," it said, its voice strangely high and snide. Halvor concentrated on not running the truck off the road.

"Take the next left," it said then, and he obeyed, thinking furiously. This man – he was sure it was a man, however strange he looked – was small, and thin, and looked as though he could easily break, given the sort of persuasion Halvor was used to dealing out. If he could just get the gun from him, things would once more be as they should. He wondered briefly how the man had got into the truck, and decided that he must have stowed away behind the driver's seat before they set off. Nothing else made any sense.

The road twisted around, becoming a dirt track thick with reddish mud and pine needles. Noticing that the strange man was simply perched on the back seat, Halvor made a snap decision, and turned the wheel of the car viciously, slamming it head-on into the thick trunk of a tree. He heard the smashing of glass around him as the air-bag went off, cushioning the impact for him, and grinned to himself. That would teach the bastard.

Shoving open the door, he struggled out of the truck, and moved quickly to the trunk, pulling it open and grabbing his bag of toys. A quick rummage brought out one of the guns, and he clicked off the safety, hefting a thin bar made of bluish steel in the other hand, just in case. Carefully, his ears straining for the slightest noise, he made his way around to the front of the truck, where steam was hissing from beneath the hood. Glass from the windshield was scattered across the ground like chips of ice, and Halvor tightened his grip on the bar as he moved to where he thought the body would be.

"Sorry to disappoint you, laddie, but I'm perfectly fine." The man's strange voice made him whirl around, and he saw that the thing was sitting cross-legged on the roof of his truck. A tiny, almost fearful part of Halvor's brain screamed that he hadn't been there a moment ago. Halvor squared his jaw.

"So, what the fuck are you supposed to be, anyway?" he asked, in his gravelly voice, and the man frowned thoughtfully, a long finger pressed to his lips.

"I'm the Dark One," he said eventually. "Although that probably means nothing to you. I'm the man you've been sent to kill."

"You – you're Gold?" asked Halvor disbelievingly. "Mr King said…"

"Ah, yes," mused Gold. "The image. Well, I've undergone a slight change in my personal circumstances since last we met. I'd ask you to pass on my regards, but I fear you won't be leaving these woods alive, so I'll have to do it myself." He smiled unpleasantly, and Halvor, noting that he no longer held a gun, swung his metal bar with surprising speed. The bar clanged against the roof of the truck, and the Ogre grunted, temporarily thrown off balance by the lack of a body in front of him.

"Oops!" said Gold cheekily, from behind him. "Didn't I mention the magic? How very remiss of me."

Halvor swung again with a roar, his eyes widening as the bar disappeared from his hands and appeared in Gold's, before the smaller man lashed out and caught him across the jaw with it. Halvor heard, rather than felt, the crunch of his jaw breaking.

"You know," said Gold, in a conversational tone. "I truly enjoyed what my magic did to Mr Smee, but this physical connection – I rather like that, too. Causing pain can be so intoxicating, don't you find?" He lashed out again, striking Halvor's knee, and the huge man let out a tiny grunt.

"I feel no pain, Gold," he growled, finding it difficult to move his jaw. "So you'll have to do better than that if you want to kill me." He raised his hand, the gun pointing at Gold's kneecap, and pulled the trigger. The shot sounded very loud in the quiet forest, and Halvor expected to see blood and to hear Gold's screams of agony. He certainly did not expect to see butterflies stream from the muzzle of the gun and flutter away in the breeze.

"Hmm, very pretty," said Gold, amused, and waved his arms. Halvor immediately stiffened, arms clamping to his sides as though he was bound by invisible ropes. The gun fell to the floor.

"Now," said Gold pleasantly, stalking back and forth in front of him and tapping the steel bar into his palm. "You're of little use to me, and it's not as though you and I have any particular history, so you may just get away with a quick death. My – appetites – have been somewhat sated since I paid a visit to Smee's pawnshop."

"If you kill me, Midas will simply send another," grunted the Ogre, his eyes like chips of stone. "He'll send others to hurt you, he'll take that little girl of yours, and he'll make her scream while you watch, you son of a bitch!"

Gold lurched forward, thrusting his face up towards the taller man's.

"No one will take Belle from me!" he hissed, suddenly furious. "She is mine! If Midas sends others, they will die! I will kill them. Just as I killed Nottingham. Just as I killed Smee. Just as I will kill you. I will send your severed head to Midas in a fucking box, do you hear me?"

"Do your worst," sneered Halvor. "As I said, Gold, I feel no pain. You can torture me until tomorrow morning, and I will laugh and spit in your face!"

Gold straightened up, and put his head to the side, his eyes curious.

"No pain?" he asked. "Really? Must be some sort of issue with the connections in your brain. Let me see what I can do about that." He put his hands on the Ogre's head, grinning as the man tried and failed to pull away. Using his magic to probe inside the thick skull, Gold felt for the problem. Strange that the magic for healing was so close to that for tearing a body apart. He felt for the gap, for the missing piece that would send the pain signals to the brain. Ah, there it was! A swirl of magic bridged the gaps, and Gold pulled back and casually broke one of the man's fingers. Halvor roared with pain and rage, before clamping his mouth shut and suddenly looking wary.

"You're welcome," said Gold, with a nasty smile. He danced back a little, clapping his hands together. "Ooh, it looks as though I have a new toy to play with! Let's see how long it takes for you to break." Tilting his head above tented fingers, he looked up at the Ogre with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"Now," he said lightly. "What was that you were saying about Belle?"

They were far enough out of town for any noises they made not to be overheard, but Anton, tending the vegetables on his farm, paused in his hoeing of the ground when he heard a strange noise, far-off but echoing through the woods, almost like the scream of a large, wounded animal. It had been approaching ten when the Ogre had crossed the town line with his unwelcome passenger, and the sun was past its peak before the hoarse sound of screaming stopped.


Ruby pushed the warm cocoon of the duvet back and slid out of it, standing up and yawning as she rubbed tired eyes. Her dreams had been oddly dark and disturbing, and she briefly cursed the supposed gift of memory, before remembering what had been important in her life. Her mate. Her daughter. The husband she had had in the life after that, and their three children. She clutched a hand to her mouth as she allowed their faces and voices to wash over her and fill her head, and for a moment she stood with a smile on her face, simply remembering. Snow had been right. A gift, indeed. Taking a deep breath, she tiptoed out of the lounge and went through to the kitchen, to find Belle seated at the table with a cup of tea, a slight frown on her face.

"Did you get any sleep at all?" asked Ruby gently, and Belle shrugged, turning to her with a wry expression.

"Not really. Where is he?"

"He'll be fine," said Ruby soothingly. "He has magic, he can disappear at will… Plus he's a total hard-ass even without all that. Don't worry about him."

"Impossible," sighed Belle, letting her head drop onto her clasped hands. "I want him home, Rubes. I want him here. I'm so scared he'll do something – something he can't take back. I don't want him to fully become the Dark One."

"You think he'll kill Midas?" asked Ruby, and Belle shrugged.

"I know he wants to," she admitted. "He said he would concentrate on getting information from the Seer, but I know what he's like. His bloody loopholes. Once he does that, maybe he figures anything goes." She looked distraught. "What if I can't get him back, even after we banish the Dark One? That's what scares me."

Ruby slid onto the chair next to her, and put an arm around her. "I'm sure he's fine," she said gently. "And whatever you guys go through, you'll make it out the other side." She tilted her head to the side, looking at Belle with a tiny smile. "You know you can always have a few sessions with Archie, don't you? No need for Gold to bottle everything up and destroy himself with what's happened."

Belle sighed, turning the cup around and around in her hands. "I don't know, Rubes. I want us to have a life, once this is over. A normal life. I want us to get married and have kids and do everything we never got to do last time." She bit her lip, her face concerned. "But – what if the things he does, the things he will do, as the Dark One – what if that changes him? It has to, doesn't it? A person can't – go through all that and not have it change them."

Ruby's arm was a comforting pressure on her shoulders, and she sighed and leant in to rest her head against her friend's.

"He won't change," said Ruby soothingly. "Not so much that you won't recognise him. We won't let him, I promise."

Belle sighed again, nuzzling closer. "I just wish he was back," she said miserably.

"Wish granted!" Gold's voice made them both jump and sit up straight, as he appeared in the kitchen, legs apart and hands flourishing.

"You're back!" said Belle, getting up and throwing herself on him, so that he rocked back on his heels and grunted with the impact. She hugged him hard, breathing in his scent, which was becoming more familiar to her. She pressed herself against the hard warmth of his body, and Ruby chuckled to herself.

"Guys, save it for the bedroom," she remarked, getting up to boil the kettle. Belle pulled back from Gold, and cupped his face with her hands, making him look at her.

"Are you alright?" she asked, and he nodded. She eyed him curiously.

"Midas?" she whispered, and he pulled away.

"He lives," he said stiffly. "I didn't harm a hair on his head, you'll be pleased to know."

She beamed, relieved. "I am. Thank you."

"What about the Seer?" asked Ruby, taking more cups from the cupboard. "What did she tell you?"

Gold seemed to relax, the strange energy that radiated from his body evaporating as he took a chair.

"She knew about the ritual," he said. "She warned me about Regina, said she was unpredictable."

Ruby snorted. "You know, I could have told you that without calling myself a Seer," she said dryly, and he chuckled.

"Indeed. I suppose I ought to go and enrol our Dean in this little band of curse-breakers," he said, amused. Belle caught his hand in hers.

"When will you go?" she asked, and he pulled a face.

"No time like the present, I suppose," he said wearily. "I'll go today. I have to speak to Dover about something, first."

Belle looked concerned. "You should rest," she said firmly. "You must be exhausted. I bet you had no sleep whatsoever."

Gold's smile was brief, and cold. "I find that I have little use for sleep, in this form," he said. "Fortunate, given the amount I have to do to get rid of it." He sounded almost bitter, and Belle chewed her lip worriedly, sharing a glance with Ruby.

"Food," announced the waitress. "You want breakfast, Gold? I'll make a run to Granny's, get some doughnuts and muffins."

Gold made a face, but Belle nodded to Ruby with a smile, and her friend went through to the lounge to pull on her pants and boots, before heading out at a run. Belle turned to Gold, the silence thick and awkward between them.

"So, Midas is alive?" she asked quietly, and he nodded. She studied his face. "Then, what is it? What did you do?"

He looked up sharply. "What makes you think I did anything?"

She sighed, and moved to stand between his legs, her hands on his shoulders. "I know you," she said gently. "And something happened last night. Something you don't want to tell me." Her fingers stroked through his curling hair, brushing it back off his forehead. "Please," she whispered. "Please don't shut me out. Whatever it is, you can tell me."

"Can I, indeed?" he asked with a touch of asperity, and pushed himself to his feet, surprising her. He leaned in close, his breath tickling her ear. "You really, really don't want to know, dearie," he breathed.

He pulled away from her then, slinking out of the back door and down to the basement, and Belle bit her lip as she watched him leave, wondering if, when they finally broke the curse, he would ever be the same again.


A/N: Uh-oh! Poor Belle is right to be worried, methinks.

Next time: Gold goes to see Jefferson and Regina.