Emma was only half listening to Henry as they entered Granny's Diner. He was talking about fairy tales again. They took the center booth as it was the only one open, unfortunately. Emma never liked to be the center of attention, but now attention was all she got. After being elected sheriff, everyone was more curious than ever about the blonde who ran over their welcome sign. She made the front page two weeks in a row, then it was - thankfully - back to third grade spelling bees. This town was seriously deprived of interesting gossip. Maybe there was some truth behind Henry's theory after all. Everything around her just felt so. . . retro. It was weird to say the least.

"Emma? Emma?!" Henry waved his hand in front of her face.

"Uh, yes?" Emma was shaken from her reverie.

"Did you hear anything I just said?" he raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Yes," she replied defensively, "Mr. Ritch, who owns Midas Investments, is actually the real Midas."

"That was what I was saying five minutes ago, Emma. I know you don't believe yet, but you need to know this," Henry admonished.

"Yes, of course, sorry. Continue," Emma waved her hand.

"Mr. Spencer is King George, your grandfather, sort of. His association with your father was all a ruse," Henry smiled mischievously.

How was this kid her son? Did Regina drop him on his head when he was very young? Or was he really just this lonely? She wanted to play along so he wouldn't put himself in danger again, but this was all he ever talked about. Maybe she should have taken the girls up on their Valentine's offer. Then again, she would have been called out to Mr. Gold's cabin later that night. That had truly been scary.

All of a sudden, the diner went quiet. Everyone looked down, voices hushed, faces were hidden, and even children sat as still as statues. Even Regina didn't get that reaction out of people. That could only mean one thing. As the room went down several degrees, Emma's theory was confirmed. The little bell jingled as the door was opened and closed, but that was the only sound besides the sizzling of the fryers.

"Mrs. Lucas, I'm here to collect rent," Mr. Gold smirked, like he needed to say it.

No, everyone knew why he was there. He was merely rubbing it in. Emma might not be afraid of him, but she had the good sense not to get in his way. If the man wasn't the Devil, she owed Henry twenty bucks.

"Yes, it's right here," Granny, the usually hard-as-granite woman, fumbled a bit before handing him the roll of cash as though if she touched him, she would contract a lethal disease.

Emma might have underestimated him before, but not now. There was a good reason everyone was afraid of him, but maybe she was also a little curious.

"How did he hurt his leg?" Emma whispered to Henry, because whispering just seemed right.

"Nobody knows. I haven't figured out who he is yet. I think he might be royalty," Henry eyed Mr. Gold suspiciously.

"Someone has to know what happened to his leg," she furrowed her brows.

"Maybe it was the Mafia," Henry looked dead serious.

"He probably slipped on a skateboard, and now he's an eternally grumpy old man," Emma snickered.

"I may be old, but my hearing is as sharp as ever," said a voice behind her.

Emma jumped slightly and turned to see the man in question standing right behind her.

"How the hell do you do that? It's creepy," Emma frowned.

"I've been called worse, Miss Swan," Mr. Gold smiled.

"So. . . how did you hurt your leg?" Henry, always curious, chimed in.

"I'll tell you, if you answer one of my questions," Gold grinned wolfishly, more savagely than even Ruby.

"A deal? I'm never making another deal with you, Gold," Emma snarled.

"Oh, come now, Sheriff. It helped you win the election, didn't it?" he smirked, he knew he was right.

"What does he mean, Emma?" Henry frowned thoughtfully.

"Nothing, Henry. He means nothing," Emma leveled the pawnbroker with a glare, but he didn't even blink.

"So, do we have a deal? Or will my leg forever remain a secret?" Gold folded both his hands over his cane.

"You're telling me nobody else knows?" Emma raised an eyebrow.

"Not a single living soul," he waved his hand for effect.

Emma's stomach churned at the way 'living' flowed out of his mouth. Did someone else know at one point? If he had killed someone over this, did she really want to know?

"Deal," Emma blurted.

"I hurt it in war," his eyes momentarily glazed over with some invisible pain of the past. Just as quickly as it was there, it was gone again.

"You were in a war?" Henry asked, astonished.

"You were a soldier?" Emma asked at the same time.

"Aye, indeed I was," Gold nodded to both of their questions.

Emma wanted to ask which war it was, but the deal was one question. Now, what would he ask her? She now owed him a favor and an answer. Emma was afraid of both of them.

"Do you believe in magic, Miss Swan?" Gold asked with a tilt of his head.

"Why would you want to know?" Emma looked cautiously at Henry who was leaning over the table eagerly.

"Just curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat."

"Ah," Gold raised his forefinger, "but satisfaction brought it back."

She was stuck between a rock and a never ending abyss of darkness. Either, she could look completely insane and please her kid, or she could look very logical and risk hurting Henry again. The real question was: what did she really believe? Was Gold trying to bring to light some secret mental instability within her mind?

"I suppose magic could exist," Emma could totally get out of this okay.

"That doesn't answer my question," Gold was a tricky little imp.

"Mmm. I believe. . .'' Emma trailed off uncertainly.

"It's fine. I don't expect you to answer now, but you must answer eventually. I'll be waiting when you have your answer," Gold began to walk away.

"What war did you fight in?" Emma would take a chance.

"It matters naught," he tittered happily, pleased with Emma's discomfort.

"Are you an illegal immigrant from Scotland, or the moon, maybe?" she asked, frustrated.

"Perhaps."

"Why can't you ever answer a question with a straight answer?"

"And lose my air of mystery? Never," Mr. Gold walked out the door with a smirk.

Now she owed him two things. She had to leave Storybrooke, but she couldn't. She was only ever good at running because she had nothing holding her down. Now, she had to try the other thing: staying put. Emma had to put every fear aside and focus on her kid. Once she knew he was okay, she was gone. Never stay, never get hurt. This time would be no different.