Regina was a pest, Mary Margaret was a wreck, Henry was her shadow, and Gold. . . well, at this point, Gold was the thing tying her to the ground so she wouldn't float into insanity. Those phone records mocked her, telling her a story she didn't believe. Throughout her life, Emma had met a lot of people. The more people she met, the fewer she trusted. People would lie, cheat, steal, kidnap, and kill for many things if they were desperate enough. After a while, Emma realized that her gut was the only thing she could trust; her gut and her eyes. If she could touch something, it was real. If she could taste something, it was real. If someone wasn't lying, they were telling the truth, even if it wasn't the whole truth. Regina wanted her to solve this case, which meant there was something to solve; but what was she really supposed to be solving? Emma really could arrest David just on the basis that he lied to the sheriff about information regarding a developing case, but she didn't think he was lying. Perhaps David really didn't remember what happened.

With an aching head, Emma got in her yellow Bug and drove to Granny's. After slight hesitation, Emma ordered two cheeseburgers, a coffee, and an iced tea. Ruby smiled at her and bobbed her eyebrows suggestively when the waitress dropped the bag in front of Emma.

"Mr. Gold's shop is just a block that way," Ruby stuck her thumb over her shoulder.

"Yes. I know," Emma growled in annoyance.

"He never eats lunch, just works all day," Ruby leaned in.

"Sounds like him," Emma agreed with an aggravated huff.

"I'm sure he would appreciate a pick me up," the brunette winked.

Emma rolled her eyes and walked out of the diner with minimal struggle at the door. She set everything in the passenger seat and drove over to the plain, little pawnshop.

"Two times in one day. Finding me more enjoyable then you let on, Miss Swan?" Gold looked up from the ledger he was writing in.

"I asked Regina, but she was too busy for lunch," Emma smirked.

"Regina? Should I be worried the food is poisoned?" Gold peeked into the bag that she set in front of him.

"Maybe."

"Oh, and you brought iced tea. To mask the taste of the poison?"

"Would that even work?"

"Depends on what you put in the tea."

Gold grabbed the bag in his left hand and his cane in his right. As he walked briskly to the back room, he motioned for Emma to follow. She grabbed the drinks and followed closely behind him. The back of his shop was messy in the most organized kind of way. There was a workbench in the middle of the room, nearly hidden by all the clutter. There was also a bed and a couch.

"What do you need a bed for?" Emma raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"What do you think I need a bed for?" Gold shot back.

"How many people have you. . .?" Emma made a rather suggestive hand gesture towards the bed.

"It depends how this visit ends," Gold smirked.

"In your dreams," Emma mumbled.

"The ones during the day, or the ones during the night?" Gold asked coyly.

Emma snorted, "What's the difference? The people?"

"No, dearie, the person is consistent in all of my dreams," Gold's smirk grew until it was almost cat-like, "The difference is the context. . . and the position."

"You're disgusting," Emma scowled at him.

"No, it's actually quite enjoyable," Gold sat down on the couch and unpacked the food.

Despite everything, when Emma followed Gold's gaze to the handcuffs at her belt, she blushed. There were so many things you could do with handcuffs, and if he had some whipped cream in that mini fridge. . .

"Are you all right, my dear? You look flushed," Gold observed calmly.

"I'm fine," Emma breathed.

She took a seat on the couch, completely pressed against the arm of it. Gold quirked the corner of his mouth, but didn't say anything about the three feet between them. He handed her the coffee and one of the cheeseburgers, making sure to brush his fingers against hers. She felt a chill go down her spine; whether it was because of the contact, or the way he looked at her, she didn't know.

"Hope you're hungry," Emma said meekly.

"Starving," Gold grinned, though his eyes never deviated from her own.

She wanted to look down, but she didn't want to lose this little contest between them. He was staring her down, and she wouldn't look away. Emma wasn't sure when something so mundane as looking at each other became a competition, but she would not let him win. Gold's tongue came out to lick his lips, and despite herself, she looked down. Her eyes followed his tongue's movement as it drew over the line of his lips, which were curling into yet another smirk.

"How are things going as sheriff?" Gold, much to her relief, broke the silence.

"Eh, it's new," when Gold stared at her, expecting more, she continued, "and I can be flexible."

When his smirk stretched, she nearly slapped herself, or maybe him. Everything she said sounded like something she didn't want to say, at least not to him. He unwrapped his burger and took a bite of it carefully. The man looked like he was strategically planning the best way to avoid getting grease on his Armani suit.

"How's Henry?" Gold persisted as Emma unwrapped her own burger.

She took a much, much messier bite before replying, "Persistently begging me to send Snow White and Prince Charming a bottle of wine to celebrate their new found love."

Emma didn't really think about what she said until she was taking another bite. Gold didn't even seem slightly confused when she said that. He gave no indication that she had mentioned something strange at all. Henry never talked to Mr. Gold, how could he know who she was talking about? But he knew about the curse. The curse? There was no curse. There were no fairy tale people. She wasn't the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. Was she? What the hell?!

"What's wrong, my dear?" Gold brushed his fingers against her shoulder before pulling back.

Had she said that out loud? "So many things."

"Tell me," Gold finished his burger and licked his fingers, leaning back.

Emma took a deep breath. She couldn't trust him. . . but she could. He found loopholes, but he never broke deals. He hadn't ever gone back on his word, supposedly. He always helped her, she just didn't like the way he did it.

"I-I'm not supposed to talk about ongoing investigations," Emma bit her lip.

"Then don't talk about ongoing investigations. Talk about what's bothering you," Gold reached out, as if he wanted to touch her, maybe hold her hand, but then pulled back abruptly as if something had burned him.

"There's. . . something, I found, and it tells me one thing, but I don't believe it," Gold nodded for her to continue, "I could arrest someone based on the information, but I don't think they did anything. I don't even think Regina wants me to arrest this person. It's the only lead I have, and if I follow it, I think I'll be falling into a trap. Regina wants me to do something, but I don't know what. I think she's behind this, but I have no proof. I need to do something, but if I do, then I could be doing the wrong something."

"If I give you advice, will you take it?" Gold raised an eyebrow.

Emma thought for a moment, "What's the advice?"

"Follow the lead. If you can arrest someone, arrest them. You don't have to hold them for long, just make them sweat. People slip up when they're under pressure. Afterward, you can tell how much you screwed up based on how wide Regina's smile stretches," Gold took a sip of his tea.

"That's- that's actually not bad advice," Emma looked shocked.

Gold brought his hand to his chest, where most people's hearts would be, "Your surprise wounds me, Miss Swan."

"You'll live," Emma threw her wrapper into the trash can and sipped her coffee, "Were you planning on going to the Miner's Day festival?"

"Were you?"

"I have to arrest someone. So, yes."

"I wasn't. . . but if someone saved me a dance?"

Emma looked him straight in the eyes, dead serious. Did he really just ask her that? Gold, the most feared, infamous, lethal man in all of Storybrooke. . . asked her to dance. Could he even dance with a crippled leg? In front of people? With the town's news team surrounding them asking them when they would get married and make little Golds?

"Maybe stick with your dreams, Gold. They don't step on toes," Emma suggested.

"I'd rather have the real thing, clumsiness and all," Gold gave her a very, very small smirk.

"I've never danced before," Emma confessed.

"I can teach you," he offered.

Emma thought for a moment, "I have someone to arrest."

She got up, threw her coffee cup in the trash, and walked past the curtain into the shop. She could hear the tap, step of Gold following her. Couldn't he take a hint? She had somewhere to be, and she had to arrest someone.

"Shall I go to the festival, or would it be a waste of time?" Gold prodded gently.

"Go if you want, but I hope you have a backup dance partner," Emma didn't look back at his disappointed face as she walked through the door.

"I don't, but I can wait," she heard Gold whisper before she stepped out into the cool air of the evening.

She almost felt guilty. Hell, maybe she did feel guilty. He had given her great advice, and then she had blown him off. He only wanted a dance, just a dance. Emma didn't know whether she regretted walking out or not, but she would find out. Maybe she would go to the Miner's Day festival, just to see if he waited for her, or maybe she wouldn't. She needed to arrest David.