"Where you tend a rose, a thistle cannot grow." - Colin, The Secret Garden

One

Moe French was just coming around when the unexpected visitor appeared in the doorway of his hospital room. The corpulent florist's eyes widened with fear. It was was the man who'd put him here in the first place – none other than that shady shopkeeper, Mr. Gold.

"Knock, knock," the scarecrow of a man smiled. "Do you mind if I come in? No, of course you don't," he answered himself, "I'm the only visitor you've had."

"Get out of here. I'll call the police." Moe's thick fingers fumbled for the call button, but Mr. Gold tisked and shook his head.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. See, I've just gotten out of jail, whereas, if you're well enough to sit up and make that call, you're well enough to sit in a cell yourself," the strange man pointed out.

The florist frowned and put down the pager. "What do you want?"

"I've come to offer you a deal," Mr. Gold informed him, hobbling closer on his cane, until he was at Moe's bedside.

"I don't have what you want."

"Oh, I know you don't have that. I know who had it, and I got it back," Mr. Gold dismissed, knowing the chipped cup in question was now locked safely in his vault. "This deal has two parts, and only one of them involves an object. This time, it's an object you want." When the heavyset man looked confused, he clarified, "Your truck."

"You'd give me my truck back?" Moe asked warily.

"Not give. Trade. And that's not the entire deal," Mr. Gold explained. "If you want the deal, the first part is that neither of us files charges. I won't press charges against you for stealing my property, and you won't press charges against me for assault. A perfectly even trade, don't you think?"

That got his attention. "What's the second part?"

"The second part is, you provide me with some information. Answers to questions I have, that only you would know. If your information is to my satisfaction, I'll give you the title to the truck and cancel your debt in full." Mr. Gold knew such an offer was too tempting to pass up. That's why he had made it.

Still, the injured man was reluctant. "And if it isn't?"

"You go back to your life exactly as it was," Mr. Gold said simply. "You'll still owe me, but you'll be a free man. Either way, you win."

After a minute's hesitation, Moe nodded.

"Is it a deal, then?"

"It's a deal," Mr. French agreed. "What do you want to know?"

Mr. Gold averted his gaze, stared at the bed railing instead of the man he hated. "Everything there is to know about your daughter. The one you murdered."

"Mur-" Moe's mouth couldn't even process the word. "Listen here, Mr. Gold; I did not kill my daughter!"

"You may as well have. You hurt her so badly she killed herself to get away from you!" Mr. Gold accused, eyes flashing dangerously.

"That's not true. You've got it all wrong!"

"Oh, I think not," the lame-legged man growled, leaning closer. "And if you want your truck back – your life back – you'd better start talking. Start with where you buried her."

"She's not dead!" Moe insisted. "I don't know who told you that, but it's a lie. She's alive and I can prove it."

"Alive?" The thin, long-haired man's fingers gripped his cane so tightly they turned white. His face blanched with pure shock. "She's alive? Where?" When Mr. French hesitated, he bared his teeth like a feral dog and gripped the front of his hospital gown. "Dammit, I said, where?"

"About four floors straight down from where we're standing," the portly man replied fearfully. "In the sanitorium."

When Mr. Gold spoke again, it was in a venomously low whisper. "You had her committed?"

"Rose tried to kill herself, more than once," Moe explained, barely noticing Mr. Gold's mouth as it framed her name in silence. "I couldn't run the business and keep an eye on her. She needed professional help!"

"She needed a father who treated her with decency," Mr. Gold reprimanded. "What did you do to her? Huh? What did you do that was so bad she couldn't face another day on this earth? Did you hit her?" His voice grew menacingly quiet. "You didn't just hit her, did you?"

Mr. French didn't have to speak. The answer was written all over his face, colored with shame.

Mr. Gold's brown eyes squeezed shut, vainly attempting to block out the horror of what the girl must have endured. "I want to see her."

"No one is allowed in the sanitorium, not even me!" Moe started. "I haven't been allowed down there since I signed the papers three years ago."

"Perhaps you're not aware that I own the controlling share of this hospital. They'll let me in. Which is why I'm going to get the documents, and then you're going to sign over her power of attorney to me." When French seemed reluctant, the other man leaned down to his ear. "You'll do it, you filthy swine, or I swear to you, I'll make you sorry you survived."

*LL*

A/N: It seems there was another story called "Heart of Gold" posted a day before mine, with a similar theme, so I've respectfully changed my title. Any similarity between the stories is purely unintentional.

Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time or any characters you recognize. I'm just playing with them because it's fun and I love them – especially Mr. Gold. XD And the Secret Garden quote has been marked as such - I don't own that either. Obviously.