A/N: Hello, dearies! Ready for more New Year's fun? This is a slightly longer chapter than the others, but I'm sure you'll enjoy it. There's some flirting, some fighting, some apple-picking…but don't let me spoil it for you!
"I'm going to burn that witch," Red seethed, shooting darts with her eyes into Regina's back.
With Red's permission, Gold had been able to heal Archie's trauma, but the man was still unconscious as he lay across one of the pleather booths. The only reason Gold had agreed to the exception to their rule was to undo the damage Regina had done—and because Archie had been singing "Rehab" nonstop.
Red angrily wrung a cold cloth out and slapped it on Archie's forehead.
"Maybe I'll pour some water on her and watch her melt," she barked. Her fingers itched for the glasses of water that had been discarded throughout the diner, untouched by the patrons.
"Myth," Gold immediately trampled her fantasies. "Not all witches are destroyed so easily."
Red smoothed the cloth more gently over Archie's skin and never let go of his hand. She peered up at Gold from under her eyelashes and scowled.
"What happened to the Wicked Witch, then?"
Gold suppressed an amused chuckle. Oz was so unusual a land compared to their home—Munchkins, rude talking trees, flying monkeys, and little girls that swiped your shoes after you died. Those were supposed to be my shoes! Thief.
"Which one? The one that was generally a walking pickle or the one whose kryptonite was a farmhouse?" Red offered him a serious stare. Waitresses were no fun these days. What ever happened to using roller-skates, for example? "She was allergic."
He watched Regina suspiciously, but always made sure he was within viewpoint of Emma at all times. He would have liked to accompany her, but her wary looks suggested it would not bode well for him. In contrast to the beginning of the night, she was loosening up to him, but she was also stuck at the crossroads between ultimately giving in and hanging on to that last shred of rebellion.
Stubborn swan.
"You must be happy with yourself. Your love interest didn't get assaulted with a bucket. And you conveniently got a kiss. Wonder if she'll still kiss you at midnight," Red mused sourly. Such a bad sport, wasn't she? Gold ignored her barbs. Oh, she liked it. She hasn't returned my money. "You do realize that if you hadn't healed Archie…I'd have been out of the game."
She was gazing up at him with a mixture of awe and curiosity, but he made a point of looking the other way. It was over and done now; there was no reasonable logic in lingering over it. The irony of Regina handing him his victory on a platter by disqualifying Archie was great, but…maybe it was that one drink finally getting to his head.
"Thank you," Red whispered almost inaudibly. He couldn't help but whirl around and gape at her as though she had lost her mind. No one had thanked him for anything since….centuries ago. No one had the sense to imagine his deeds worth thanking.
Yes, the drink had something to do with this odd delusion he was experiencing.
"Perhaps the game just isn't as exciting without worthy opponents," he replied, but they both knew it was a smokescreen. Red bit down on her lip and nodded unconvincingly. Suddenly, her face grew worrisome and her focus traveled past his shoulder.
"Heads up. Whale keeps checking over his shoulder at Regina. I think he likes what he sees. Either that, or he's paranoid the vampire will suck his blood." She pointed behind him and he slightly shifted in place.
Gold found his old pal frequenting the bar in line of sight of Regina. Red was right: the doctor often watched Regina over his shoulder, his gaze wandering everywhere on her lean body. The attention rested longest on her legs and chest. Feeling lonely, are we, Frankie? Traitor.
"And just look at how she's playing Sidney like a violin. The guy's practically drooling a river. Clearly, she's expecting him to fall on his knees in front of her," Red continued.
Oh, yes, he noticed. Expecting was the wrong word—if Regina demanded that Sidney fulfill his fantasies, the genie would argue not. If Regina asked Sidney to kiss her, she'd better be prepared for the most intense make-out session of her life.
"I'll handle this," Gold muttered before stalking in the direction of the lust-eyed Whale.
Perhaps he could deter the doctor's plans of putting the moves on Regina. And if for some inconceivable reason Whale ignored him and went for it, at least it would serve to make the genie jealous. Perhaps they would fight to the death.
Worst death ever, in his opinion.
"Aiming a little high, aren't we?"
Gold helped himself to a seat beside Whale without asking. The doctor lounged against the bar, trying to look appealing. Reluctantly, the good doctor tore his eyes from Regina's apples and his attitude soured in light of his new companion.
"Since when do you place the Queen in high regard?"
He sounded like he wanted to attach an insult to the end of that sentence. Gold dared him to do it, just so he could have the pleasure of unleashing all the insults he had created for Frankenstein over the years. You never know what you'll hear by the water cooler these days. Or behind the bushes.
"Oh, I've made a note of ranking the inhabitants of our world on a scale of one to ten," he bragged. What else would he keep that old journal for in his shop? A diary? "Emma—10. Archie? Hmm…7. And a half. You fall somewhere below Regina. She's a one," he explained.
Whale became flustered in trying to understand Gold's logic.
"So, you're saying you've ranked me as…point 5."
A glimmer of disappointment radiated from his blue eyes. Too harsh on his ego? Gold shrugged loosely. The scientist needed to be knocked down a few pegs. As if science prevailed over the glory of magic.
"Your world looked funny," he retorted. "The lack of color gave me headaches. You shouldn't feel too dismal, though. Your score is higher than Charming's. He's a .2." He hooked his thumb over his shoulder toward Regina. "You have no chance."
Whale openly scoffed at the alleged conclusion.
"If she can take value in a huntsman that has no heart, I'm sure I'm more than worthy enough for her standards. Maybe she prefers guys with accents," he insisted, puffing out his chest. Gold was thankful he wasn't drinking anything—it would have come shooting out his nose.
"What accent? Hate to alarm you, but you might want to consider hanging Missing posters around town. Your accent flew out the window, dearie." That was quite a joke. He was dying with laughter inside. "Besides, Regina loathes me. Don't mean to toot my own horn, but my accent is the best one here."
"Arguably," Whale countered. Determination spanned his face as he edged off his stool. "I suppose I'll have to prove you wrong, then." Gold beckoned his hand in Regina's direction.
"Oh, please do. Should I take notes?"
Whale glared at Gold bitterly before heading off to join Regina's side. Regina was still charming Sidney only a few feet away, their backs facing his way. Whale went unnoticed by the Queen. Or else she was ignoring him.
Maybe Whale should slap her on the back of the head. It's what he always did whenever Regina didn't listen to him while he taught her the ways of magic.
A red shadow flickered in the corner of his eye.
"Whose side are you on? You're supposed to be discouraging our enemies, not encouraging them to come together! Make war, not love!" Red wailed in his ear. She was slipping into a panic. But he was perfectly calm and optimistic.
"Never underestimate someone who is acting…with a robot claw," he lilted devilishly. He reached over the bar and obtained the children's toy he had stored there. Red's eyes lit up with intrigue as he snapped it open and shut.
Silent on his feet, he slipped along the bar toward the place where Regina stood between her two lover boys, but not close enough that they registered his presence. Ever so deftly, he extended the robot claw and snapped the jaws open. Just a little closer now…
"Yeow!"
Regina jumped and screeched as something pinched the left side of her butt. She glared accusingly at Whale, who had the unbelievable nerve to smolder in return.
"Excuse you! Keep your hands to yourself or you'll find yourself waking up to them on your pillow in the morning! Severed!" She always hated being manhandled. Especially by fumbling, arrogant idiots. She preferred to have control over them.
Whale grimaced at the gruesome mental image. He stared down at his hands in bewilderment. Sometimes, they had a mind of their own, but he was certain they had been in his pockets the whole time!
Regina noted the denial on the doctor's face and checked over her shoulder for any lurking suspects. The only suspicious man was Rumpel and he wasn't even paying attention to her; he was busy eyeing Red. Probably coming up with another plot in their little war.
The day Rumpelstiltskin grabs my ass is the day he volunteers to sell Girl Scout cookies door-to-door with the nuns. He wouldn't do it even if I was the only woman left in the world!
It had to be Whale. That smug, slimy, flirtatious mad scientist.
Didn't he see that she was seducing Sidney at the moment? She had him wrapped around her finger and that was all she needed to win this competition at midnight. She sent Whale a warning look before deliberately putting her hand on Sidney's arm and forcing her brightest smile.
"As you were saying?"
Her precious Mirror stuttered as Regina's hand clasped his forearm, slipping upwards with ease. He struggled to recall his last words. Something about that cruddy newspaper of his. All she had to do was bat her eyes, touch him a little in the right places, and he'd be melting—
"Damn," she hissed, leaping about a foot in the air. There would be bruises on her butt in the morning! Did Whale have to squeeze so hard? "What the hell did I just tell you? Do you want me to cut them off?"
Whale blanched and gazed back with obvious alarm. He held up his hands in surrender.
"It wasn't me, I swear it! I would never—" Regina cut him off with a humorless cackle.
"Please. Do not lie to me. Just like you've never done it to Ruby, either. Every date you go on, if I remember. Dates with other women," she tossed in his face while she rubbed her aching behind. Whale winced, despite the fact that it was his counterpart who always showered attention over Ruby.
That was when Sidney stepped forward in her defense. Her knight in shining…glass.
"Listen, I think you should leave the Queen alone. She has told you to stop…feeling her up," he mumbled for lack of a better phrase. Whale stumbled back a step and gawked at Sidney openly. His hands raked through his sandy hair as the two cornered him.
"And I told you I didn't do it. What, are you going to fight me for her, too?"
It was mostly bravado, but Sidney didn't seem to take it that way. The fool was hopeless over Regina and this was his chance to impress her. To stand in the name of his unrequited love. So, he straightened his spine and nodded.
"How about you and I settle this outside?" That was people always said before a fight. Regina pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. A pattern of murmurs started humming about the crowd, growing louder with every chant: Fight! Fight! Fight!
With a crowd dogging their heels, Sidney and Whale emerged outside and were thrust into the freezing cold night. To the parking lot they went, with nearly everyone in the diner anticipating a good old-fashioned fight. Regina remained close to Sidney and crossed her arms defiantly, but she was secretly pleased. After all, how long had it been since men battled for her?
She noticed Gold lingering on the edge of the crowd, mocking the two fools with his eyes. Was he jealous of the attention she earned? Not even he had women tearing their hair out over him. All he had was Emma. The little Sheriff whose shoulders Gold was draping his jacket around this very moment. And they say chivalry is dead.
The crowd formed a tight circle around the two fighters. Sidney and Whale faced each other with matching expressions of uncertainty, their fists clenched by their sides. It might have been in their best interests to decide to walk away, but both had their reasons for sparring—Sidney to prove his love for Regina and Whale's pride that refused to be called into question.
"Ready when you are, Mirror Man," Whale boasted, spreading his arms wide. Sidney removed his fedora and dropped it at his feet. The wind instantly picked it up and flung it away. Cheers arose from the crowd as Sidney assessed his opponent.
"I know exactly how to handle this," he stated, holding a finger to the sky. To everyone's puzzlement, the reporter approached Whale head-on…and began to circle him rapidly. Whale's eyes followed him as he spun around and around in a pattern.
"What are you doing?"
Whale started turning around to try to follow Sidney's movements. Sidney's pace was quick with his hands flapping at his sides as he braced against the wind. Regina looked ready to bang her forehead against the brick wall. Some knight he was.
"I read this in an article once," Sidney said matter-of-factly. Regina made a sound of displeasure. In which article? Yours? "You see, you are drunk. By walking around you in circles, you'll soon become dizzy and confused. Am I really walking in circles? Or is the world spinning? You can't keep up with me, you'll start to stumble to your feet…Why aren't you stumbling?"
Whale thrust his numb hands into his pockets and savored the amusement of having Sidney walk in complete circles. If anyone was making a fool of himself, it wouldn't be him. His reputation was much too good for it.
"Hmm…good question. Maybe because I'm not drunk?" Sidney abruptly came to a halt in front of Whale. For a brief moment, he teetered on his feet.
"Oof…maybe I'm the one who's drunk," he murmured as his legs wobbled.
Whale grew rather impatient watching Sidney become the laughingstock of Storybrooke and rushed toward him. The unruly crowd egged him on as his intentions of winning an easy battle became clear.
As soon as Whale was close enough, he wrenched his arm back in preparation of dealing the first blow. At the moment that his arm swung forward through the air, Sidney's dizziness grew so terrible that he doubled over and Whale's fist whooshed through the empty space where his head had been.
Bent at the knees, Sidney seized the opportunity of Whale's failed delivery to ram his head into the doctor's stomach, careening him backwards. Whale collided painfully onto his back, but Sidney kept going. His feet tripped over Whale's spread-eagle ones and he lost his momentum.
"No, no, wait!"
Whale held up his hands in defense as Sidney toppled over. He landed squarely on Whale's chest, driving the breath from his lungs. Rolling off of the doctor, Sidney lay on his back and moaned at the overhead night sky. Whale tried to get up, only to groan along with him.
A few people dispersed in disappointment as they realized the fight was nearly over, even though it never truly began in the first place. Regina and Emma approached the sides of the fallen men, whose heads were lolling on the pavement. Weaklings.
"Is there a doctor?" Emma inquired from the retreating group of citizens, but no one stepped forward. She bounced on her haunches and glowered. "Oh, come on. You're telling me he's the only doctor this place has?" She pointed at the moaning Whale.
A few nurses lumbered into view and reluctantly offered to escort the two men to the hospital. Emma helped the women load Whale and Sidney into their cars, ignoring the pinched frown on Madame Mayor's lips. There went her lover boys.
Red powered down her camera and blew warm breath into her hands. It was time to head back inside and warm up.
"This is….so not going on YouTube," she sighed.
…..
"Sobering up, are we?"
Emma plucked her nose from the fairytale book as the all-too-familiar accent lilted in her ear. For a guy with a cane, he sure was stealthy.
The exposure to Gold was more than she was used to—if she wasn't careful, she might start to like it. Start? A small voice nagged inside her mind.
"After that little falling-kissing incident, I figured I should stay off my feet for a little while," she said, turning a page in the book. "Plus, David just stumbled out of the bathroom white as a ghost, so Mary Margaret left to bring him home. Henry's asleep. And…I'm here."
If this wasn't a cry for his company, he didn't know what was.
"Well, I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I let you spend New Year's Eve alone," he boasted. Not that he was much of a gentleman in precarious situations. "Mind if I sit?"
He gestured to the booth, asking her permission. Slightly, she dipped her head in approval.
He slid into the seat opposite her and propped his bad leg up, hissing as it straightened. He had been using his magic to heal the discomfort in small doses, but it still ached after long periods of strain and excitement. On the bright side, Emma might shed a little sympathy.
"Good to know there's some part of you that's human and not a leather-wearing omnipotent wizard."
Or not.
Wait…she knew about the leather tendencies?
How much had Snow and Charming told her already? If Charming tried to glorify that little swordfight in the Infinite Forest and claim he won, that shepherd would have more than bowel problems to deal with. Sensing his puzzlement, Emma revealed her cell phone.
"Someone's been sending me mysterious text messages. They're very informational."
Jefferson.
That hatter was going to die.
Unless of course this was a ploy to engage Emma's attraction to him and she happened to have a taste for men in leather, in which case he would proudly send the hatter a gift basket once this night was over.
"So, how did you hurt your leg?" Gold paused in rubbing the sinewy muscle of his thigh and gritted his teeth.
That question. Of all the ones Emma could have asked, it had to be that one. Was she truly a mortal siren luring him to his death? Seeking to locate the crux of his being and despair?
She stared fixedly at him—he could feel the line of her gaze floating over his face, a sticky web clinging to his skin. She drummed her fingers on the corner of the page as she waited.
"It's….a long story," he murmured half-heartedly. Emma shrugged.
"I have time. There's a little less than two hours to midnight," she pointed out.
Two hours. Was that all there was? Panic began to flow through him; it sounded so short a timeframe when she said it. The ticking of the diner's clock seemed to pound with each movement of the black hands.
He purposely avoided her eyes. He couldn't very well tell her the truth, could he? That would be ridiculous.
What would she think if he made it painstakingly clear that he had been a coward all his life? Would she shake her blonde head pitifully and say I knew it? Would she mock him, laugh, be reassured that she in all her goodness and strength was better than him?
He couldn't tell her.
But she was still waiting. Underneath the table, her foot nudged against his other leg. If he left her questioning, rudely stood up and left, she would think him cold and distant. Not that it was far from her current perception, but it would likely halt their progress. It would definitely suggest he did not trust her.
Or did he?
It was a tough decision, eating away at his innards. He laid his head against the wall and noticed that her green eyes were scanning the open book again. A shimmer of hope raised his spirits. Maybe…just maybe she had let him off the hook.
"What are you reading tonight?" But she held up a hand.
"You answer my question…and I'll answer yours." Damn.
She had no intention of letting him off the hook, no matter his obvious uneasiness. Her curiosity was much too thirsty to allow it. And his curiosity of the story that so fiercely transfixed her attention was too great to ignore.
He made his decision. He squeezed his thigh a little too hard. Here goes nothing. You're going to hate me, Emma.
"I injured my leg back in our world…about 300 years ago," he started. Her eyes widened at the revelation of his age, but she did not press him. Maybe she was terrified. "Back then, I was a spinner living in poverty. I had a newborn son and a wife. The recruiters ripped me from my family and thrust me on the frontlines. It was during the first Ogre War."
He paused then, his voice having grown rough. He tried to register the emotions on Emma's face. It was a stony blank slab, impossible to decipher. Reluctantly he continued, closing his eyes as he did.
"It was the same as entering the bowels of Hell. The Ogres came at us, slaughtering our numbers in handfuls before any soldier was given a chance to raise a weapon to defend himself. I watched them die, countless men. And I…I…" The words were sandpaper in his throat.
"You ran," she flatly filled in the blank. It sounded more like a spoken fact than an accusation, or maybe that was his imagination playing tricks on his mind. He could not meet her eyes. The insult coward must be peppering her tongue.
"Those men died, I lived. For my choice, they restrained me and destroyed my leg. Twisted it, broke it, damaged it so that I would never run again. It was as much my repulsive brand as a scarlet A was meant for harlots."
And now that awful word would be flung at him. Emma's eyes would burn like two raging emeralds, her pink lip would curl in disgust, her fingers would recoil from ever touching him.
But none of it came.
"That's it?"
His head snapped up in confusion. Surely, he must have heard wrong. She did not look angry or disgusted at all. Lounging back in her seat, there was a miraculous gleam in her irises. It appeared she did not fully understand the reason for his shame. It numbed his mind with rigid disbelief.
"Dearie, have you not heard a single word I've said?" Her attitude remained unchanged—it did not automatically hit her with the impact of one thousand bricks. If anything, it only placated further as she leaned forward to touch his arm.
She. Touched. His. Arm.
"You want to know what I heard?" He was all ears. His bones seared from her touch. "The story I just heard was of a man whose only purpose in life was to make it by with his family and was forced into war against Ogres. Mary Margaret…um, Snow told me about Ogres. Supposedly, they're a lot bigger than humans and impossibly strong, right?"
Absently, he nodded. He was still stuck somewhere on 'the story I just heard.'
"Yes. The only possible way for a human to kill an Ogre is to shoot it in the eye," he confirmed. The rest of an Ogre's body was much too resilient to be struck down by swords or clubs.
Emma waved a hand aside as if he somehow proved her theory.
"There you go. It didn't matter how many men there were on the frontlines. Unless your soldiers were trained to be sharpshooters, I'd say you didn't stand a chance. And what kinds of recruiters have the heart to rip apart a family and risk a mother and newborn son to starve or be left alone? If you expect me to side with them, you're wrong."
His forehead lined with perplexity as he studied her intently. The pain in his leg was all but forgotten.
"Emma, you don't understand. I ran—"
"So?" She tilted her head as if it were no big deal. As if she had already accepted what it meant. "Maybe you should stop blaming yourself for running away from a doomed war and start thinking about what you were running toward. Family."
Just like that, her hand left his arm and she returned to her book. Gradually, the noise of the diner slammed back into his ears and his lungs released the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding.
It was impossible a notion to wrap his mind around—she didn't care. No, it wasn't that she didn't care. Just that she didn't mind.
And for the first time in a long time, he honestly felt good. The ache in his leg had certainly decreased.
"Rumpelstiltskin," Emma carefully pronounced from across the table. Ooh, he enjoyed the way his name sounded on her tongue. It tingled all the way down his spine, warmed him in all the right places.
"Yes, Emma?" Deliberately, he lifted her hand to his lips and dared to press a kiss to her knuckles. The tip of his tongue darted out to taste her skin. Cracking a dry smile, she wiggled her hand free of his mouth.
"No, I just answered your question. You asked me what story I'm reading. As luck would have it…yours." She tapped a finger against the page of her book. Oh. That's what she meant. Here he assumed they had reached the next level of their relationship. "I figured you hurt your leg by throwing a temper tantrum and splitting yourself in two."
"Don't believe everything you read. That is not how it happened," he insisted. Catching on to his displeasure, she closed the book. "For instance, am I really that short?"
Emma gave him the once-over, at least to the point where his waist became hidden by the table.
"I don't know. Think we should measure you up against one of the dwarves?" Wasn't she a clever one? So witty, so brave, so humorous. She was rounding out to be his kind of woman.
"You have quite a sharp tongue, Emma. Luckily for you, I know how to handle such confidence," he hinted and licked his upper lip. Emma narrowed her eyes, but did not flinch away. Her gaze traveled across the room to where Red sat upright with Archie, who was blessedly alert.
"I saw what you did for Dr. Hopper," she revealed, wonder transpiring over her features. That was news to him—he hadn't been aware the lovely Sheriff was watching. Fate must be on his side tonight. "You healed him…and you never struck a deal with Red for it."
After earning his kiss with Emma tonight, perhaps he would let Red and Archie use his cabin in the woods for a weekend. As a token of gratitude for their role.
"The poor cricket had been caught under that bucket. I figured that was pain enough. Otherwise, he'd have to send himself to therapy." He tried to pass it off. It wasn't every day that these things happened around him and it would not happen every day if he had his way. But Emma leaned forward and smiled.
"I liked it. Maybe there is some good in you after all," she murmured. "Or maybe you secretly ship Hopping Red." A giggle threatened to erupt from his throat. That would be the day, wouldn't it? But he did like that glimmer of appreciation vibrating off Emma.
Shipping Hopping Red—that was a good one. It was miraculous enough that Jefferson was shipping him with Emma…
Jefferson.
Why hadn't he thought of it before? That was his answer to the conundrum that was Regina. It filled him with excitement until he practically leaped up from his seat. Emma darted forward and latched onto his wrist.
"Wait. So, how does that story really unfold, then?"
Her focus dropped to the book again and he knew her curiosity was on the verge of being unsatisfied once more. It was a voracious thing, even worse than Alice's.
Gently, he pried his wrist away and took hold of her own. Turning it over, he rubbed her skin in soothing circles. Spinning…just like his precious wheel.
"That, my dear, is a story for another time."
He let her be, leaving her mind buzzing with eager questions. Perhaps one day he would share that tale with her.
…
Ring…ring…ring…
"Sorry, I can't come to the phone right now. If you're calling for a tea party, press 1. If you're plotting to steal my hats, press 2. If you're a magical imp struggling to woo the current girl of his dreams and requires dating advice, press 3."
No-good hatter. Like he was falling for that trick. Jefferson obviously ate too much buttery popcorn. It went straight to his head.
"Knock it off, Jefferson. I heard you pick up your phone," Gold growled. His irritation warded off the nasty chill in the air. There was a harsh chuckle on the other end.
"Really? Did it sound something like this?" Click. Gold pulled the phone away from his ear and stared down at it open-mouthed in disbelief. Did that madman just…hang up? On him? Who did he think he was?
Seething, he punched in Jefferson's number again and listened to the dull tone in his ear. That idiot must be rolling on the floor. Literally. There was that noise again—a faint click as Jefferson answered.
And all he did was breathe. No greeting. Just deep, rough breaths into the phone.
How disturbing.
"Jefferson, I know you're there. I can hear you breathing!"
In and out, in and out. It was quite unnerving. He felt like one of those expendable people in horror movies being stalked by the killer in the dead of night. Well, there were the nonstop text messages. He had to say something to catch the hatter's attention.
"I kissed Emma."
The breathing halted.
"Did I miss something? Is this Degrassi? Am I supposed to be one of your…dare I say it…girlfriends?" What kind of moronic language was he babbling now? And then Jefferson's tone altered to a squeaky, chipper imitation of a girl. "Oh, I am so proud of you. That's right—you go, girlfriend! You can't see it right now, but I am curling my hair around my finger."
It was a sad thought, but he had a crystal clear picture in his mind of Jefferson doing just that.
"You have no hair to curl…anymore," he shot back. Not since he up and chopped that ridiculous mop of hair off his head. Good riddance, too.
"As opposed to your feathery long locks," Jefferson taunted. A hand instinctively flew to the ends of his hair. They were not feathery…long…locks…were they? He waved the matter aside impatiently.
"You've been sending Emma text messages about me?" A short laugh echoed through, but it was muffled. Jefferson must be hiding it behind his hand. Rolling on the floor, indeed.
"I figured she should know precisely who she's kissing. Don't worry—I made you look good. Your accent is the best one in that diner, if I do say so myself. Even Emma agreed." Emma…said that? That she liked his accent? Something was strange here. He smelled a rat.
"And why would you care to dress me up for Emma and stick on a sparkly bow?" Even if he was the infamous dealmaker, Jefferson could prove to be just as sneaky.
"Let's just say…" A pause. You'll owe me a favor? "I ship you hard. Be thankful—for having that cricket hypnotize Grace and put her to sleep, I could have told Emma all about your skin problems and lack of dental hygiene. I will get revenge for that, by the way."
How clever of the hatter to announce his plans for revenge ahead of time. It was a trait that he shared in common with Regina, always gloating before the deathblow. Whereas he kept all his inner plans and secrets close to the chest, locked inside his head where no one else could reach.
"How about you get revenge on someone more worth your time? Say, Regina?" The silence was heavy in the darkness. It somehow made him more aware of the biting cold and the shadows dancing across the street.
"You need my help," Jefferson surmised. The smugness in his voice cut through loud and clear.
Gold cursed himself for resorting to the hatter, but what else was there to do? The Queen had to be kicked off her mighty throne. Perhaps he would claim her place, wave a scepter.
"Are you going to do it or not?" His patience was running terribly thin. Jefferson scoffed, an abrupt hah!
"Of course I'll do it. I'd never pass up the chance to strike against the Queen. Not after what she did to me in Wonderland. A thousand deaths wouldn't be enough to pay for separating me from Grace." There was a giant inhale of air. "What do you want me to do?"
A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Go mad." And then he snapped the phone shut.
….
Jefferson bundled up tighter against the treacherous winds as he trudged through the Queen's backyard.
It was buried under a foot of snow, the flakes drifting into his face and landing on his eyelashes. Baby, It's Cold Outside played nonstop inside his head. In his hand was a celebratory bottle of whiskey to warm him up, but it was nearly empty. Over his shoulder was a black strap that kept digging into the side of his neck as a heavy black bag was dragged through the snow.
The imp would definitely be paying for this. He owed him big-time.
He stepped next to the apple tree and studied it up and down. The Queen's prized apple tree, one of her most valuable possessions. She was going to miss it.
"Go mad," he repeated the imp's order as he smashed the bottle on the ground and unzipped the black bag. He grinned widely as he spotted the item he was looking for. This would be fun. Guess what, Regina? It's apple picking season, he thought gleefully. "How's this for mad?"
And he revved up the chainsaw.
…..
Regina never thought the day would come when she admitted she was running out of suitors. She had always had so many—Graham, Sidney, Whale apparently…
But now, as she lounged with her elbows on the bar and her hips rocking in an attempt to look desirable, there were practically none left. Striking back against people like Emma and Archie was a piece of cake, but how could she possibly win unless someone kissed her?
Oh, she'd messed up.
And who would she target as a suitor, anyway? One of the dwarves? According to the Blue Jellyfish, dwarves were incapable of love. Jefferson? Who knew what that madman was doing on that hill? Gold? Hah, that was hysterical! He'd rather drop off a cliff face-first than show her intimacy.
Her eyes scoured the diner until they rested on Archie.
After that mishap with the bucket, Archie had been knocked unconscious but now he was sitting at the end of a booth with an icepack pressed to his temple. She wondered how hard he had really been hit. Hard enough to damage his senses?
Oh, it was a devious thought unfurling in her mind. Devious was her middle name, wasn't it? It made the corners of her ruby lips curl in delight. Wouldn't it be the perfect way to drive a wedge between the wolf and her cricket? Stealing him right from under her paws?
Regina could easily imagine the horrified look on Red's face if she earned a kiss instead.
Granted, she had never considered getting cozy with Storybrooke's therapist, even when Henry was attending sessions. But she had been known to experiment before. In any case, she double-checked her poised lips in her little hand mirror before gliding over to his seat.
"Good evening, Dr. Hopper," she purred richly. Immediately, he jumped at the sound of her voice. His skin was pasty under the diner's milky light. "Or can I call you Archie? Or perhaps Jiminy? We've known each other so long, I feel we should be on a first-name basis."
Without his permission, she took the seat directly across from him and crossed her legs leisurely. She made sure they were stretched out into the aisle, to offer him a chance at their slender, delicate form. Her foot nudged along his leg and his breathing quickened.
"E-Evening, Regina," he choked out. His eyes rolled wildly behind his glasses, glancing every which way except in her direction. How rude.
"Why so jumpy?"
She took her sweet time leaning over the tabletop, mentally dancing over the fact that her little black dress exposed her cleavage generously. Just as she expected, Archie's eyes noticeably dropped downward before darting away.
"Regina, are you here to talk about something?" That was not the response she wanted at all. Always business with these people, never pleasure. His insolence caused her temper to flare.
"Just because you earned your Ph.D. from a curse doesn't mean everyone who talks with you is in need of therapy," she snapped. Patience, she chided herself. Once more she forced a dazzling smile and she brought a hand up to stroke his cheek. Under her skin, he shivered. "Forgive me. I'm here to make sure you're alright after that terrible accident," she cooed.
"I…I'm fine," he stammered, trying to draw away. Her hand caught his chin and held it firm. "Regina, I don't think Red would like what you're doing." One of her burgundy nails caressed his bottom lip.
"Red who?"
She batted her eyelids. I put a spell on you and now you're mine, she sang inside her head. There were other forms of magic besides the obvious kind in their world. Seduction was one of the most formidable types of magic, one she wielded expertly.
Just then, someone tapped her shoulder.
Regina inclined her head to peer up at a furious Red. In her hands was a tray of food and drinks special for Archie and it rattled. Ah, the dog was coming to mark her territory, hmm? Regina smirked and continued running her fingers along Archie's skin.
"That's my cricket you're fondling, Your Majesty," Red coolly exclaimed. She hastily dropped the tray onto the table. Regina's hand was slapped away from Archie's face and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Next full moon, I'll be paying a visit to your house."
Was this pathetic mutt actually threatening her? One of her heels shoved Red backward and she gracefully stood up to face off against her opponent. Red bared her teeth at her, but Regina was unmoved.
"I'd like to see you try," she hissed back.
Red opened her mouth to retort or perhaps bite, but something over Regina's shoulder caught her eye. The red-streaked strands of hair wavered as she shook her head. Why was the wolf grinning like that? My, what large teeth you have.
"Hey, Regina, isn't that your beloved tree?" Red pointed behind her shoulder, but Regina failed to follow it. This must be a distraction. There was no conceivable way her precious tree would be—
A thunderous roar made her spin around toward the window. Outside, a car—no, wait, her car—rocketed past the diner at high-speed, swaying dangerously across the road. And tied to the back, being dragged down the street, was her chopped apple tree.
As the car flashed by, someone stuck their head out the window.
"Picking apples is fun!" The thief yelled on the top of his lungs for all of Storybrooke to hear.
Jefferson.
That no-good-lousy hatter had axed her tree and stolen her car! He'd be lucky to last another week with his heart! And once she ripped it out, she would squeeze it like it was an anger management toy. Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, squeeze…
"That's my car! That's my tree! Come back here, you lunatic!"
Like a shot, Regina dashed out of the diner in hot pursuit. Smoke may as well have risen from her heels with the speed in which she was striding. It was positively icy outside, but she hardly registered it on her skin as pure hatred fired through her veins.
In the diner's parking lot, Jefferson drove her car in circles. The tires screeched and stank of burning rubber. The tree collided with a few nearby cars as it flew past. How did he even infiltrate her car in the first place? Her heels halted in place. Oh, gods, her window was shattered!
Someone was going to die. Slowly.
"Jefferson! Jefferson, stop!"
She cried out, hopelessly waving her hands about and trying to catch up to the car without being flattened like a royal pancake. The hatter ignored her, releasing a high-pitched screech of excitement as he drove past again and again. It was making her dizzy.
Out of breath, she paused in her tracks. Maybe the car would run out of gas, just sputter and die like half the victims she had wasted. And then she would pull Jefferson from behind that wheel, rip his miserable heart out—
Here he came again.
Regina dodged him as he sped for the main street. As he roared away, one of the larger tree branches snagged on her foot and she fell backward onto the thick trunk. All she could do was hold onto the trunk for dear life as she experienced the most extreme sleigh ride of her life.
Through the open window of the driver's seat, she was forced to endure Jefferson's sloppy singing.
"Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with yo-ou!"
…..
"And then…and then she went flying down the street on top of the tree! Like some kind of decoration! I swear, you could hear her screams all the way," Red gasped through gales of laughter. Even Gold had to resist the urge to die laughing. Enlisting Jefferson's help was a brilliant move on his part.
"If we're lucky, dearie, she'll be without her voice for a week. All we'll have to deal with are her ferocious glares," he replied. Oh, what a quiet little New Year it should be.
"It's about time someone chopped down that tree," Red praised, throwing her arms to the high heavens. "Serves her right for trying to steal Jim-Jim from me…Oh…my…God…"
Red's jaw dropped in sheer astonishment. Her gaze was trapped on the space beyond Gold's body. Gradually he turned around out of mere curiosity. Very little had surprised him during his lifetime, but this was one of those rare moments that he was struck speechless. In a good way.
A black figure entered the diner and approached them with the sluggishness of a woeful ghost. If this were charades, he'd guess it was supposed to be a wisp of black smoke. The figure stopped beside Gold and only then did he recognize the two miserable ebony eyes burning with malice.
Regina.
Oh, she was almost unrecognizable. Every inch of her—not just the hair, dress, and heels—was covered with dust, dirt, soot, and slush. Her skin was caked with mud, her lips transformed into an unappealing brown shade. Her hair was a hapless mess, sticking up at odd angles.
Gold's body shuddered with quelled laughter. It became harder to hold it in once he realized Red was reacting the same way.
"My, my," he clucked his tongue. He flicked a pebble of dirt off Regina's cheek. It left a dismal stain on his thumb. "Might I suggest a mirror? You have seen better days, Your Majesty." Red snorted into her hand.
"Bath….room," she croaked through her clenched teeth. It was the only thing clean about her, the pearly whiteness of her teeth blinding against the black.
"Uh…I wouldn't use that one if I were you," Red gestured to the diner's bathroom door. "Charming left behind a disgusting mess. Why don't you use our laundry room? There are plenty of extra clothes in there."
Red offered to show Regina the way, though Gold did not miss the clever wink as she hurried past. It was then that he recalled the problem with the laundry room. Oh, that quick little minx. Well, she can't possibly say there aren't enough pants, he mused.
"What the…?" He read Regina's tainted lips when the laundry room door opened. Or perhaps it was 'mother' she uttered. Either way, Red thrust the Queen inside and quickly closed the door behind her. A wail of despair erupted from the room, barely audible over the music.
"Long live the Queen," Red declared proudly, raising a glass once she returned. The thrill of it all filled every pore of his body until he found himself lifting a glass of beer to clink against hers. Red tossed her drink back expertly, but he discarded his glass on the bar.
"Do either of you know if Regina returned yet?" Emma's honey-smooth voice rose off to his left. What proper timing. Perhaps she could join them for a celebratory drink.
"She's drowning in Gold's pants," Red offered up first. Their truce was inexplicably over. Emma's nose scrunched in distaste as her green eyes switched to Gold for an explanation. Inevitably, her gaze flickered down, as if she expected to see Regina crouched there.
"That's…not as perverse or suggestive as it sounds," he hurried to cover his tracks. Red simply watched the damage unfold. Loathsome mutt. Say goodbye to the cabin. "Regina and I never….Regina would never get remotely close to touching my…On the list of women that I would allow to have contact with my suit, she doesn't even rank in the Top 50."
He hoped that came out right. Those responses sure sounded better in his head. Emma examined his suit and ever so carefully he edged forward on his seat. You, however, I'm willing to make an exception for, he added mentally.
"What number am I?" Oh, he was so hoping she would ask that question. He could rub his palm together in glee. She mustn't be that perturbed if she was asking such intricate questions.
"Would you believe me if I said you were number one?"
He held up a single digit for emphasis. Red eyed them in outright bemusement as they actually flirted with one another. Emma leaned most of her weight on the bar and dipped her head until her breath tickled his skin.
"Yes…yes, I would."
…..
Time to thank all those that reviewed my story recently. A big thank-you goes out to DaesGatling, ParanormalMoonlight, helikesitheymikey, FortunesFavour, The Auburn Girl, 666Neme666, AngelofDarkness1605, discotimelord, nuckythompson, DragonRose4, SwanQueen4055, spankingfemfatale, Guest, and Musicalfan2012. You guys are awesome!