SMOKE AND ASHES

Zelena makes an aborted attempt to seduce Gold. Befuddled by alcohol, she passes out, but not before she shares a glimpse into her troubled childhood wherein she often watched her mother 'entertain' gentlemen callers. She also tells Gold that his father has concocted a spell to destroy Light Magic.

Meanwhile in Avonleigh, King Maurice makes a tenuous guess that there is a connection between the letter his daughter has sent him and a recent guest scholar in the Library.

Leaving Undertown, but still under the spell of the golden slave collar, Belle makes her own attempt to seduce Gold, who manages to resist the dark lure the bond has placed on him.

Tangles

Chapter 28

A.N. a little smut in the first section of this chapter.

Belle knew Gold was going to go back down, go back by himself. He planned to connect with Ruby in the Villains' Club, find out what happened to Killian who had not communicated with anyone in several days and, most alarming to Belle, he was going to meet with Zelena. She didn't trust Zelena.

He had made her promise not to go after him, to stay in The House. He was, she knew, concerned about her personal safety. He didn't like using the collar with her.

Belle understood. If she was brave enough she would admit that she had found the collar exciting – to give complete dominion over yourself to another person so that person could have you do anything. It had been a sexual turn-on like nothing she had ever imagined. It was as if she'd had permission to act on all of her impulses . . . all her deep-seated hidden desires, she could engage in the basest, most wanton behavior without taking any responsibility. And, she knew, Gold had been just the man to guide her on this shadowy journey. He was powerful and knowledgeable and, he had admitted it himself, there was a very dark side to him.

She was intrigued by that dark side, the glittery scales, the reptilian eyes and clawed fingernails. She supposed she should have been frightened or repulsed, but she had thought him beautiful. Perhaps this was how The Snake had appeared to Eve – alluring, sexual, promising.

But she knew he was afraid that using the collar would awaken that very dark side of himself . . .

And he might not be able to control it.

Belle sat quietly in their bedroom. Last night, he had brought her back up to their apartment and had removed the collar, placing it into one of his antique boxes and casting wards over it. But by this time, she had fallen completely under the spell of the collar, her body heated, her mind inflamed. She had tried to kiss him and undress him but he had stayed her hands.

"No, no my sweet girl. You are still under the aftershocks of the collar. When I take you I want to be sure that it is you and not some cheap spell. I know I yielded before because you are so. . . so damned attractive to me, and . . . and I was weak. This is not what I want, not what I want from you. Let's sleep, just sleep, together tonight and tomorrow we will begin a new day." He had tucked her in but then he hadn't gotten right into bed with her. Instead he had muttered something about needing to shower with bleach.

When he came back from the shower having spent time trying to scrub the scent of Zelena out of his skin, Belle was still thrashing in their bed, her body on fire from unrequited passion. She had stripped herself of the golden outfit, what little of it there was, and was lying in the soft light of the room on top of his silken sheets. He was still in only a bathrobe not having bothered to redress after the cleansing.

"Please," she was begging him.

He debated. It was still like taking advantage of a drunken woman, but he could also tell Belle was in exquisite distress and what kind of man would he be if he ignored the needs of his lady love.

The monster whispered to him, "She wants you. She needs you. Why deny her and yourself?"

He gently put his hand on her shoulder and she turned to him.

"I . . . just . . . feel this . . . strange . . . feeling. I need . . . I need . . . " she tried to explain herself, but finally just reached for him. He wrapped his arms around her.

"Sweet, sweet Belle. Your first taste of dark magic. It's a bitter pill," he whispered into her hair. "But it is a powerful one, a very powerful one."

"Why do I still feel this way? The collar is gone," she asked breathlessly, kissing his cheek, licking his neck. She whimpered against him, frantically trying to pull him down, closer, closer.

"It is the nature of collar. The bond it creates . . ." he was struggling to keep focused, "lingers for several hours. It affects both the one who is . . ." she was kissing a particularly sensitive part of his neck . . . "collared and the one who does the collaring," he finally managed to get out.

"Help me, please," she begged him.

Gold closed his eyes. What choice did he have? Allow his darling Belle to suffer or. . . .?

Perhaps he could just satisfy her and not take advantage of her be-spelled state to slake his own desires. Yes, yes, he could do that.

He gently placed his hand on her hip. She twisted around, pulling him onto her. He was now lying on the bed, his robe slipping open. She pulled his hand over to the juncture between her legs. She was hot and moist and it only took him a moment to slide his hand across her swollen mound and touch her intimately and she began to shiver and shake¸ her entire body writhing, responding hard and rapidly to his merest touch.

Belle gasped, "It's . . . it's not enough. Please, again. Please,"

Gold now focused in earnest. He'd thought allowing her some release would assuage the fire that had built it her, but it had only seemed to stoke it. He continued to touch her, applying pressure, stimulating her. It was only a moment before she again came apart for him.

She lay gasping under his hands. "I need more. I need you," her eyes were bright, her pupils nearly filling the cerulean blue. "Please," she begged him again.

"See, she needs to have you," the monster whispered. "She's yours. Take her."

He closed his eyes for a moment, knowing he had lost this battle.

"Belle, my darling girl. Forgive me. I can't resist you." And he rolled his body on top of hers, sliding easily into her, feeling her spasm around him as he filled her. She had cried out with his intrusion, grateful for his possession. She had raised her knees and he reached down to link his arms around her legs, pulling them up so that her ankles were now resting on his shoulders and he was buried deeper than he had ever been. He moved hard and fast within her and he felt her yield to him, once, twice, then a third time more. As she cried out her surrender, screaming as she responded, he gave into her, spilling himself into her as he came in a series of thrusts.

He collapsed onto her.

She was kissing him.

He was letting her.

She was trembling and shaking. He held her, petted her, whispered kind, encouraging words to her as he helped her unwind. She was soft and compliant in his hands.

"I'm so sorry Belle. I shouldn't have. . ." he began.

She managed to put her finger over his mouth. "You gave me what I needed. It was my decision to wear the collar. You tried to warn me."

"But I still shouldn't have . . ." he was sorry to have taken her as he had, knowing full well it was the effect of the collar. But how could he resist her? How could he not . . . ?

Belle seemed quite content and was already drifting off into restful sleep.

He would have to live with his guilt.

+ + + + Breakfast

Belle felt better the next morning. She had gone to sleep, resting comfortably in Gold's arms, feeling safe and loved.

When she woke, she was alone, Gold having risen earlier. She took a cool shower, dressed in her usual shirt and tank top combination and went down to the Shop, feeling surprisingly energetic.

Gold was sitting in the back in his workroom. He had the newest scroll and was examining it. He had a notebook and was taking his time comparing the lines in the fourth script to those that were in the other three that he had already procured. He had gotten about halfway through at the point that Belle came through the door.

She looked like his Belle, fresh and wholesome, trusting, perhaps a bit naïve, deceptively powerful and superbly kind. He had to smile.

"Darling," he greeted her, rising.

She thought he looked tired, perhaps a bit more grey showing, perhaps a few more lines around his eyes. He was dressed in what she called his plain clothes, the jeans and a tee-shirt from the Avonleigh trip. He hadn't shaved and looked as if he might have sat up most of the night working.

"Breakfast?" she asked him.

"Absolutely. If you want to walk somewhere I think we'll have to do some repetition. How about Over Easy?" He was already putting the scroll away into a box and the box into a wall safe.

"Fine," Belle knew it was just up the hill and the two went out together. He tossed on a genuine Harris-Tweed jacket to ward off the cold. If Gold attracted any attention from the restaurant's staff because of his casual attire, they were too respectful to say anything. Belle rather liked the jean-clad, tee-shirted slightly untidy professor-type that she was out with this morning. Gold ordered his usual Sunburst Omelet (with trout) and Belle, wanting to try something different, got a half-order of the top-selling lavender French toast (with yogurt and granola). The little restaurant was known for its slow pace, so Belle and Gold settled in.

"Mr. Gold," she looked him in the eye. "Is Rumple your first name?" she asked him.

He winced. "Actually it is my first name, the one my aunts gave me. Gold is a more recently acquired name," he admitted.

"And you are Pan's heir?" she asked him.

So she did remember much of what had been talked about while she was under the influence of the collar. "He has told me as much. However my father has no intention of ever dying, so the title is somewhat empty. It's more like I'm his current favorite offspring."

"You have siblings?" she spoke quietly so their voices did not carry to other patrons.

"I . . . uh . . . probably there's a slew of half-siblings. My father tends to like seducing young women, girls really, and no doubt he's been successful in impregnating some of them. I've never met any siblings. I suspect that many of them were not . . . um . . . normal looking and in the past they would have been smothered by the midwife or the mothers themselves. Some probably grew up and with a modicum of magical powers were able to convince others to do as they willed and they likely became forces for some of the evil that is in the world. Others, most, I hope, lived normal unmagical lives."

"And why is Zelena green?" she asked her final question.

He shook his head, "I have no idea," he told her. "Likely some heritage from one of her parents, although Cora is normal enough looking."

"Do you know who her father is?"

Gold shook his head. "No telling with Cora."

"She thought that you might be," Belle pressed him.

"When she was first born I wondered. If she had been born three months earlier then maybe but the math doesn't work for me to have been her father. And I was always very careful with Cora after . . . well, I got very careful with Cora."

"The unusual skin and eyes that you adopt when you are . . . down there, does that come from your father?" she asked.

"I suppose so. My father can appear however he chooses to, but he prefers the sullen teenager you met. I have no idea what his 'true' form might be."

"You're rather interesting looking when you are . . . that way," Belle told him noticing that she had lost eye contact with Gold. He was clearly uncomfortable with this part of himself. "You smell and taste differently, not bad, mind you, just different." Belle dropped her own eyes to her food and murmured, "I shall confess that I'm a little disappointed that I didn't get to know your alter-ego any better."

He looked up at her sharply, not sure if he had understood what she was saying. "Belle, that part of me . . . that part of me is a monster . . . . It's best not to let him out any more than I have to."

Belle reached out and took his hand. She held it for a moment allowing her empathy to wash over the man, this damaged, angry, bitter man. "You're not a monster," she told him.

He sat very quietly. He knew he had to know that she was funneling him waves of healing energy.

"Thank you," he finally said in a quiet voice.

"So what's next?" Belle asked him.

"I'm afraid I have a couple of things to do. I need Ruby to locate Killian. After what I heard about Cora's little hobbies last night, I am concerned what might be going on for him."

"Why did you send him there?"

"To keep Cora busy. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to manage my father and Cora and Zelena. If Killian could take Cora aside for a while, it would be one less distraction for me."

"So he's doing his job," Belle told him.

"Yeah, but. . . "

"You think Cora's got him in some den of horrors?" Belle surmised.

"Maybe. If anybody can come out of this smelling like a rose, it'll be Killian. He's one of the few men who might have been able to turn the tables on her."

"And Ruby's job?"

"Muscle. She's a shapeshifter and when she shifts she is incredibly strong. If I need someone to come in and kick ass, she's the one I feel comfortable calling on."

"So now you want to find out about your father's plan to snuff out Light Magic and get the dagger piece from Zelena?" Belle summed up the final phases of Gold semi-plan.

"Yeah, I obviously didn't give this as much thought as I did going into Avonleigh," Gold admitted.

"Do you think Zelena will actually help you?"

Gold considered, "Nooo, yeeesss, I'm sure she has some other agenda but she may inadvertently give me some help."

Belle dropped her eyes. "I know you said this was not a polite thing to do, but I really couldn't help myself."

"What is it?" When Belle didn't answer, he asked, "What did you do?"

"I couldn't help but read her feelings. She was blasting them all over the place."

"And what did you feel?" he asked.

"She fancies herself in love with you. She thinks if she can get you to spend some time with her, then you'll fall in love with her. But. . . "

"What?"

"Her idea of love is . . . murky. She's like a teenager in some ways – you know, she thinks your moods should match and you'll hang the moon on her whims. She thinks by having you, she'll get something . . . somebody that her mother never had."

It was Gold's turn to drop his eyes and he focused intently on his food. "You know, I have no feeling for the woman. . . well, that's not true. There's something about her that repulses me. She's . . . cloying. Part of me feels sorry for her, but another part . . . a big part wants to run for the hills."

"Now really? She's very pretty," Belle observed.

"Pretty is as pretty does, Miss Belle," he told her. "Zelena was always the kind of child that pulled the wings off flies and bullied other children for their milk money."

+ + + + + A Wolf Awakens

Ruby was worried. She didn't actually care about Killian but she hadn't seen him in a while. He'd gone off with that Cora woman arm in arm.

Ruby knew that's what he was supposed to do. Keep Cora busy while Gold and Belle did their thing finding and stealing the scroll and dagger thingy. She ran her fingers through her dark locks. She had ended up spending the night in Undertown with a nice, young free-genie, well young for one of the Djinn. He'd been passing through and they'd hooked up when they had realized that they were both just looking for a good time, something nice and temporary. The djinn had shared with her that there were just too many powerful entities around and he feared for his freedom should he stick around the area. He thought he'd head down to Savannah and check things out there. He'd been gone when Ruby had awakened.

Ruby was by herself again. She returned to the room that she and Killian had secured for the duration of their time in Undertown. She changed and went for a run. She didn't get far. She realized in the morning light that a major component of the misty fog that had covered everything last night was actually the haze of air pollution. It gave everything a sickly yellow hue in the morning light. She reconsidered that she was likely doing herself more harm than good. She returned to her little room. She showered and put on a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a skin-hugging top, cut just a bit too low. She'd walk around and see if she could find herself something to eat. Then she'd set about tracking Killian, her wolf senses prickling as she sifted through the myriad of mystery smells. Killian had a sea-salt scent with faint underlying hints of tar and oak.

+ + + + A Faint Hope

"My dear Luminere," King Maurice greeted the Archivist.

"Your Majesty, so happy to see you again. You are looking well," Luminere spoke genuinely for King Maurice did have a new quickness in his step and lightness in his voice.

"I'm feeling well. It's a beautiful day. I thought I'd get out some."

"You're always welcome here, sire," Luminere told him.

"Hoping we won't have another one of those power blackouts, eh Luminere," Maurice mentioned off-handedly.

"That was a little more excitement than I like to have," agreed Luminere.

"Any harm done here? I know you are usually scanning these rare volumes. Did you lose any work?" Maurice asked concerned.

"Not at all. Doctor Gold was here and finishing up. I assisted him with his packing up," Luminere replied.

"Doctor Gold. . . oh yes. A very interesting man. Scottish?"

"I believe so, but living in the United States."

"A university professor?"

"I believe so. He was doing research for a scholarly paper."

"So he works somewhere in the U.S.?"

"I believe so," Luminere was beginning to feel a little concerned. His majesty was good at appearing only vaguely interested, but somehow there was the sense that he had a purpose, a direction he was going.

Maurice sighed. He didn't say anything for a while then sighed again. "It is such a beautiful day."

"Yes, your Majesty," agreed Luminere. "Your Majesty? Is there anything I can help you with?"

Maurice stood quietly and then turned back to Luminere. "No, I'm fine. Quite fine. Thank you."

There were the credentials to check – there should be an address on them. The airlines, too. No doubt they had rented a plane to fly in, probably from Paris. That's where the letter had been postmarked.

Maurice would turn those things over to Cogsworth.

He shrugged. It would probably be all for naught, but it was the first lead real lead he'd had since his precious Belle had sneaked out of the hotel room and disappeared into the night.

Had she survived? She had been so sheltered and was so ill. Could she have survived and perhaps fallen in with some good people? His daughter was always good at making friends.

+ + + + The Descent Begins

Gold had descended to Undertown - by himself. He'd made Belle promise to stay in The House. He did his best to communicate that he was concerned for her safety should she venture outside. She had not liked it, but she had promised him. She would stay in The House until she heard from him.

She had not known that Gold had visited Emma and Regina and enlisted their promises to look after Belle.

"You know she is more than capable to taking care of herself," Emma told him.

He shook his head. "Regina, she is just an Empath . . . " he began.

"Who can make herself invisible, shield herself and repel a wide variety of magical attacks. She can channel the magical energies of others and is a total kickass in hand-to-hand," Regina had told him.

"You underestimate her, Gold," Emma had added. "Belle is more than capable of taking care of herself."

"She is goodness and light. She might be able to take on some of you in this House, but to take on the Army of Darkness . . . I don't think so. Dubharim, even bocan, are minor compared to what my father is capable of throwing at her."

Emma recognized the man was talking with his feelings for the woman. "We'll take care of her," she assured him.

"I'm just afraid she may get it into her head to come after me if I am late getting back."

"We'll take care of her," repeated Regina.

Gold stopped before heading out. "Thank you. Thank you both." He then turned to go.

Emma followed him out, "You sure you don't need backup? Regina's been filling me in about how bad things are in Undertown." Emma was genuinely concerned and Gold knew she'd go with him in an instance, if he asked her.

He stopped. He didn't say anything for a moment. "Listen Emma, if something happens . . . if I don't come back for . . . for any reason . . . I want you to get Belle back to her family. There's enough latent energy in Avonleigh that should protect her. And . . . and, I'd like it if you and Jefferson, working together, would take over the care of The House. I think you're the ones that House has chosen . . . or would chose . . . or will chose. . . whatever."

Emma was taken aback. "Are you thinking you might not return? Then why go? Is it so important to get this dagger thing?"

"It's most important. Without it, I'm a likely a dead man anyway, or worse than dead. It means freedom to me, Emma." He gave her a grim smile and this time, he did turn and walk away.

+ + + + A Wolf on the Prowl

Ruby had shifted – it was easier to follow the scent in the wolf form. There were so many odors, most of them unpleasant; however, she had also found the wolf wasn't as bothered by stenches as much as the human was. Killian's scent was distinctive. Starting outside the pub she had easily picked it up and had loped off. The scent took her into a posh section of Undertown. She stopped and looked around. The lack of populace on the streets always amused her. In this form she was commonly avoided but even if she had been walking in the sequined red cat-suit, she doubted she would have encountered many denizens. In her wolf state, things were all in shades of grey and red but it was the smells that made up most of the world. When she bothered to look around herself she observed that these places were well kept up but there still was a flavor of unsavoriness about the houses. There was little scent of life on these streets. Even though she knew they were inhabited, so many of them looked like they had been abandoned.

Killian's scent turned into a very large house with brick and iron fencing surrounding it. It also had the hollow feeling that so many of these places emanated. This particular house dominated the block and Ruby took her time padding around the place. There were back ways into the place that would escape a human's notice ¬– gaps in the thorn hedges, walls that could be scaled. She stood on her hind legs and sniffed the air.

Killian was here, somewhere in this house.

Satisfied that she had done all she could at the moment, Ruby made her way back to her little rented room. She would rest and then get changed for the evening.

+ + + + + That Evening

Zelena was waiting. She had gotten the regal seat on the dais at the Villains' Club. She had dressed herself in a form-fitting flowing silver dress. She thought it set off her complexion well. She had taken time with her hair and her makeup - watching her mother dress to please the very particular Mr. Gold had finally had some payoff. She'd learned that he preferred beautiful, fine things and she had taken pains to present herself as such.

Would he come? She had to believe he would. There was a lot riding on it.

Her happiness for one thing.

She had asked them to keep the lights off the dais. She wanted to be able to observe him before he could see her . . . if he came, if he came at all.

This time she was determined that she wouldn't drink too much. Last time he'd fed her drink after drink and she'd passed out. How humiliating. But he'd also put her to bed, taking off her shoes so she'd be more comfortable, putting a blanket over her so she wouldn't get too cold. Nice.

She'd debated about getting something from the greasy menu. The peanuts were the most trustworthy things they sold to eat. They also had pretzels evidently, made from some mixture of flour and old socks, but generously sprinkled with crystals of glittering salt. Their specialty was scorched potato skins covered with a velveeta-based sauce that usually hardened into an unappetizing orange gelatinous mass. The truly desperately hungry might chance the hamburgers, no doubt made from pink slime, either dangerously undercooked or overcooked into hockey puck briquettes. She opted for the pretzels and had gnawed her way through half of one when . . .

Her breathe caught in her throat. He was wearing all black, black leather pants tucked into smooth black boots, a black silk shirt and some type of tooled leather and feather black vest.

She thought he was the most desirable man she'd ever met. The power just oozed out of him, sometimes appearing as flashes of light, sometimes it was a palpable wave of energy, sometimes a shock of electricity.

She watched as the waitresses fawned over him . . . and he allowed them to.

Ah, he was alone. He'd left his dull, little pet at home. Maybe he'd left her tied up, in tight restraints while he went out for some other entertainment, that entertainment being. . .

"Zelena," she heard him say her name, jolting her out of her reverie.

"Rumple, you came back." She bit her lip. She had wanted to appear cool and collected but even to her own ears, she sounded like she was gushing.

He sat down next to her, the warm smells of spice and smoked cedar wafting over to her. Damn, he smelled good. What would he taste like?

"Did you not think I would?" he regarded her with half closed eyes. She could see his eyes, drifting down, taking in her fine silver dress, her simple, but expensive jewelry and her modestly applied makeup. She hoped he was pleased.

"I didn't know. You are not a predictable man," she told him.

He chuckled. "I guess not. But you had made me an interesting offer. As I recall you were to find out more about my father's little enterprise."

"Oh yes. I talked with him earlier today. He needs to get a heart."

"Easy enough," Gold mumbled. "Is that all?"

"Well, not just any heart. It has to be from someone good and pure."

Gold felt his spine go cold. "So he needs an innocent sacrifice?"

"So I gather. It isn't just anyone. This person is special, a once in a generation kinda person."

Oh hell. The most special person, innocent, good and pure, once in a generation kinda person that he knew was . . . Belle.

Gold very consciously willed his breathing to slow.

Zelena had scooched herself over so she was as close as she could be without sitting in his lap. She was rubbing her hands over his arms. It was distracting in an annoying way (certainly not arousing or tantalizing). She leaned over to whisper in his ear, "Why don't we go back to my place? It isn't so . . . public."

Gold considered. He still had to get the dagger piece that she had appropriated for her necklace. It was also possible that she had more information on the 'innocent' that his father was looking for; he couldn't, shouldn't just assume that it was Belle.

"Of course, my dear," he managed to say, hoping he sounded interested.

"Oh good!" Zelena gushed and she stood and took his hand to lead him back to her place.

+ + + Back at the Shop

Regina heard something. A skittering sound, like a rodent scurrying around in leaves, foraging for nuts. She had put a cot out in Gold's shop and had lain herself down on it. But now she was sitting up. The noise had awakened her.

Emma, who had also drawn the short straw for look-out duty, hadn't bothered with a cot. She had a sleeping bag on an air mattress on the floor. She was still asleep. She hadn't heard anything. She wasn't moving except for the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slowly breathed in and out.

Regina got up. As a precaution she conjured a small fireball the magical equivalent of drawing your pistol. She stood still, listening for the sound to occur again, listening so that she could localize it.

But there was nothing. She extinguished the fireball and sat down on the edge of the cot. It wasn't a particularly sturdy piece of furniture and she had to be careful that she didn't up-end it. She sat quietly. Maybe she hadn't heard anything. Maybe she had dreamed it. Maybe it had been a real rat. Maybe . . . maybe . . . maybe . . . .

But there was nothing. She sighed and laid herself back down. Nerves. She was just having nerves. Gold was the target here. Not The House.

She allowed her own breathing to return to normal, when . . .

There it was again.

Something was outside.

"Emma," she called out to the sleeping woman. "Emma, wake up."

"What?" Emma was not the most pleasant riser.

"There's something out there," Regina told her.

Thanks so much to those supportive reviewers: deweymay, orthankg1, jamie. wan. kanobi, RoxyMoron (who has been visiting Asheville!Squeeee!), juju0268, karolprado, Aletta-Feather (chapters 26 & 27), auntpsy (chapter 25), Chauchi, Erik'sTrueAngel, thedoctorsgirl42, spacecats, Grace5231973, MyraValhallah, RaFire, Robin4, jewel415, CharlotteAshmore (chapters 26 & 27), DruidKitty (chapters 7,8,9,10 & 11) and

Anne Andrews (Guest) – you'll have to keep reading to discover what happens with Zelena.

NEXT: What happens with Gold

What happens at The House