Once Upon A Time Was Wednesday
By EnigmaSphinx
Chapter Four
A/N: Still having fun with this story and getting back into the swing of writing regularly. I may not be able to carry on the daily postings but I will post whenever I finish a section. My muse is not as reliable as I would sometimes wish. There is more Gold in this chapter though, and he's a challenge.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of OUAT. The show and its characters belong to their respective owners. I make no money off this enterprise and I respectfully pay homage to the original creators with my little scribblings.
Shayde and Jefferson went into town on the next Saturday. Given the warm weather and the eminent arrival of summer, a garden show had been announced. Shayde donned a breezy dress of cream-colored cotton that showed the new sun-kissed glow of her skin and a wide brimmed straw hat to shield her from the heat. Her soft pale hair was simply pulled back into a knot at the top of her neck. Jefferson didn't wear his customary black; instead he wore a pair of brown slacks and a camel colored shirt with an ascot of the same fabric as Shayde's dress. His vest was an elegant leather one, with brocade on the lapels and pockets. Shayde admired his appearance with a radiant smile, sensing that he was a little anxious about going out among the townsfolk.
"You look wonderful," she told him. "I will suffer the envious looks from many women with you beside me."
"And I will have to fend off many men, I suspect," he said gallantly but his eyes strayed toward the door of his workroom. He feared leaving his hat making and being surrounded by people. His 'madness' troubled him, a loss of control that he was very reluctant to share with anyone. Shayde knew of it because she lived with him but she understood what he had endured that made him so vulnerable, which in turn made it easier for her to care for him when he was too caught up in his memories to find peace.
"The house is safe," she said softly. "I promise you that." He smiled a little self-consciously and clasped her offered hand.
"I know," he agreed. "Have you ever eaten cotton candy, my dear Shayde?" he asked lightly as they walked outside. "Or had a fresh funnel cake?" She gave him a skeptical glance.
"Why would I eat candy made of cloth, Jefferson?" she asked him. "And what is a funnel cake?"
He laughed at her, not bothering to explain.
The town square was full of gaily decorated booths and colorful lights and streamers. People moved among them, laughing and talking, while children ran from one side of the square to another. Shayde walked beside Jefferson amiably, her hand tucked in the curve of his arm while she looked about herself with wonder. Aside from the many flowers and plants displayed, there were other crafts as well and she could smell the tantalizing aroma of exotic foods. A sweetness was in the air, something she hadn't ever encountered before, and Jefferson chuckled as he led her directly toward it.
The person behind the booth smiled at them. He stood behind a large circular contraption that looked like nothing Shayde had ever seen before. His blue eyes crinkled at the edges when Jefferson held up a finger. "I'm just changing colors," he told Jefferson. "This one will be mixed a bit." He poured a measure of sugar into the contraption and it made noise when he flicked a switch. Shayde watched in fascination as the machine began to work, creating threads of the sugar, light as air. The man tending it took a white paper tube and began to catch the threads on the end like a spindle, swirling it around and around the circular machine. The threads were pink, blue and lavender, swiftly spooling into a fluffy cloud.
Shayde was amazed. "It is beautiful," she said to Jefferson. "But it's not made of cotton at all. It's all sugar!" The man behind the counter laughed aloud.
"Haven't you ever had cotton candy?" he asked. Jefferson paid for the treat.
"She's been deprived of one of life's greatest pleasures, Mr. Nolan," he said gravely. "She's never had funnel cake either but I hope to rectify that before day's end." Mr. Nolan grinned.
"Mary Margaret is manning the funnel cake booth in a couple of hours," he confided, "She'll be happy to get a new customer." His gaze went back to Shayde, brows lifting in expectation. "Are you going to try it?" he asked teasingly.
Shayde hesitated, looking at Jefferson for direction. He grinned at her, pulled off a fragment of the treat and fed it to her. The moment it touched her tongue, there was a burst of sweetness and the treat was gone. Her eyes widened in shock and the two men laughed at her reaction. Shayde blushed at their amusement.
"What's the joke, boys?" someone asked from behind her. Shayde turned around to find a young woman grinning at the men. The girl's long black hair had streaks of crimson in it and her eyes were far older than her face. Jefferson explained the situation and the girl turned to Shayde with an expression of pity. "That sucks," she said emphatically. "Were you raised on some sort of restrictive hippie diet? Where your parents didn't let you have any fun? Let me guess, no white wheat, no sugar, no alcohol?" Her red lips pursed in thought. "Gotta say it's done wonders for your skin though, sweetie." She stuck out her hand. "I'm Ruby."
Shayde accepted her handshake with a smile, "Shayde," she introduced herself. "Pleased to make your acquaintance." Ruby grinned and turned her attention to Mr. Nolan. "David, have you seen Emma? Leroy's making a fuss over at the diner and it's getting awkward."
As if in response to her name, the blonde sheriff appeared in the crowd. She approached them with long strides, her eyes intent as they traveled over Shayde and Jefferson. "Hey, Ruby, David," she said off-handedly. "Surprised to see you here today, Jefferson." The hatter's smile turned a little sheepish but Emma's attention had shifted toward Shayde. "Ms. Moil," she said with a nod.
"Please, Sheriff, call me Shayde. As I said, I have no real love for my last name." Emma's brows rose slightly but Ruby interrupted whatever comment she might have made.
"Emma, can you come to the diner? We have a Leroy problem."
"Sure," Emma said. She looked again at Shayde and Jefferson then walked off with Ruby. Jefferson snagged a piece of the cotton candy and ate it before offering Shayde his arm. David Nolan waved them off and they continued to explore the square.
They hadn't gone very far before the Mayor appeared, her perpetual scowl darkening at the sight of Shayde on Jefferson's arm. As she drew near, her lips curved into the semblance of a smile but there was something in her eyes that spoke volumes about pettiness and pain. "Jefferson!" she exclaimed in artificial surprise. "How nice to find you here!"
Jefferson stiffened automatically. Shayde felt the tension run through his arm and she caught sight of his face out the corner of her eye. He maintained a casual smile but Shayde sensed that he was concerned. She squeezed his arm lightly, reminding him that he was not alone. "Mayor Mills," he said politely. "Always a pleasure."
She stepped closer, her perfume heavy as it wrapped around them both. "I stopped by to see you the other day," she confided and her eyes cut to Shayde with contempt. "Your little friend wouldn't let me see you." She pouted coquettishly. "I have something to talk to you about, a matter that I need your help with."
"Yes, Shayde said you'd dropped by," Jefferson said. "But I was busy and had asked her not to disturb me. I'm sorry I missed you." His tone said something quite the opposite of his words and Shayde nibbled a piece of the cotton candy to keep from laughing aloud. The mayor didn't smile as much as she smirked, knowing that the hatter wasn't happy to see her at all.
"No matter," she said cheerfully. "Seeing as you are here now, I'll borrow you for a moment and give you the details…"
He hesitated, torn between Shayde and the mayor. "I was enjoying a day with Shayde," he said reluctantly. "We've only just started to explore…"
"I am sure your little friend won't mind you gracing me with your presence, Jefferson." The mayor emphasized the word 'gracing' a little, smirking more openly when Jefferson flinched. Shayde smiled up at Jefferson.
"I can look around while you are helping the mayor," she told him gently. "I wouldn't want to be responsible for her worry lines getting any deeper by keeping you with me." The Mayor's eyes widened at the jibe then narrowed dangerously.
"Careful, dear," she hissed. "You have no idea who you're playing with!"
Shayde turned her gaze to the woman before her and her eyes were suddenly a sharp clear green. "Don't I?" she asked silkily, her expression turning icy. "I may not know you, Mayor Mills, but neither do you know me." Her voice was soft, without any inflection, but it carried a sense of malice that made the dark haired woman hesitate.
"Who are you?" the mayor demanded, Shayde said nothing, merely staring at the mayor with her strange green eyes, "Where did you come from?"
"Wherever I wish," Shayde replied. She held the woman's gaze until her opponent had to look away. "And I will allow you a little time with Jefferson but careful how you treat him. I will be offended if you ruin his day off."
She let go of Jefferson's arm and allowed him to step away with the mayor. The brunette cast her a look of loathing but Shayde ignored it, turning her attention to the cotton candy in her hand. The treat was still tasty and she savored it as she savored the mayor's anger and fury. The flavors were intoxicating and heady.
"Careful, dearie," a voice whispered at her shoulder, so familiar that she shivered in pleasure. "You're taking quite a risk with that one."
Turning, she found Mr. Gold standing beside her, leaning on his cane and smiling enigmatically. His brown eyes bored into hers with avid interest. "Good afternoon," she said to him pleasantly. "Mr. Gold, isn't it?"
His smile widened a fraction. "I'm delighted that you remember me," he said lightly. "You look lovely today."
"Kind of you to say so," she replied. "And how could I forget you? You were the first person I met after coming here."
He glanced in the direction that Jefferson and the Mayor had gone. When he looked back at Shayde, there was raw appreciation in his eyes. "Seeing that your escort is otherwise occupied, perhaps I can offer you my company until he returns?"
"What a kind offer," she mused. "That might be just the thing, Mr. Gold, to save the day." She was astonished when he offered her his arm as Jefferson had and she laid her hand on the crook of his elbow without a second thought. The fabric of his suit did nothing to hide the wiry strength of his arm from her fingertips and she let him lead her through the crowd.
She could feel his curiosity and his interest swirling around her as they walked. She could also feel the stares of people they passed; the crowds were full of speculation and dislike. The former was directed mainly at her, the latter at him. He ignored the people as a whole, walking beside her as though she was the only other person in the world. It was a heady experience, having his attention to herself, but she didn't know what to say to him that wouldn't cause more difficulty than already existed.
"As I recall," she said at length. "You said that you owned a shop here in town, Mr. Gold. Are you a merchant then?"
He chuckled. "Of a sort. My shop is a pawnbroker's."
She frowned. "Forgive me," she said. "I don't know what that is."
He gave her a glance as if to verify that she wasn't joking. "I lend money to people who cannot gain loans from elsewhere. Those I lend to give me goods in pledge for the money. If they don't pay me back, I retain their merchandise and sell it to recoup my loss. If they want their goods back, they repay their loan with interest."
"Ah," she exclaimed. "You make bargains with desperate souls, then."
He hesitated. "I suppose you could say so," he replied carefully. She nodded to herself, pleased to have understood. Her satisfaction lasted only a moment. Turning a corner between two booths, she found herself staring at a group of women dressed in dark clothes. They were selling candles and sachets of herbs. Shayde caught the scent of the herbs in the sachets and her stomach lurched violently.
"Is something wrong, dearie?" her escort asked. His gaze followed hers and his lips twisted in distaste. "Nuns," he scoffed darkly. He looked at her and his expression turned to concern. "What is it, dearie?"
"I hate nuns," she whispered, staring at them. One of the women looked at her then and Shayde felt the shock of recognition jolt through the woman just as it swept through her, Their eyes met and Shayde saw the nun's mouth thin with hate. "Please," she said to Mr. Gold urgently, clutching his arm with anxious fingers. "Please, can we go somewhere else?"
"Certainly." He led her away without another word.
She barely noticed when he led her from the square and down the street. Pausing at a door, he took out a set of keys and opened the door to let her in. She stepped past him into a shop full of strange items. The strong scent of lanolin lingered in the air, almost refreshing after the foulness of the nuns' booth. Shayde breathed it in, calming herself.
"Is this better, dearie?" Mr. Gold asked. He was watching her intently. Shayde nodded.
"Much better," she sighed. "Thank you."
Mr. Gold smiled at her again but this time his smile was that of a wolf looking at a particularly tasty lamb. "Good," he said pleasantly. "Perhaps you'll be so kind as to tell me what your real name is. Shayde is pretty but it's not your real name, is it?"
She tilted her head slightly to look at him in the eye, "It's as good as Gold," she answered carefully. His expression darkened.
"I understand that your name, as you gave it to Sheriff Swan, is Shayde Moil," he said. "But that's not quite true either. What is your name?"
"I've already told you…"
"Who are you?" he demanded, slamming his cane against the counter. He was growing impatient, his aura shifting darker with each passing moment. "Answer me!"
"No." Shayde took off her hat and her hair fell over her shoulders in a curtain of platinum strands. "I am not obligated to, Mr. Gold," and she stressed his name to let him know that she knew it for a lie. "Despite my gratitude for your assistance."
He stared at her, a muscle in his cheek bunching as he clenched his teeth. She watched him without expression, waiting to see what he would do. She knew when his thoughts strayed to the dagger and to the power it held. She felt its hold on him and the drive it spawned for more power. Names were power and the drive of the dagger made his natural curiosity swell as he considered that she withheld her name from him. For a moment, she could see him as he had been- the shaggy hair, the golden skin and gnashing teeth- and her heart ached for it to be real instead of a memory.
"You know who I am," he said sharply. The rage in his voice chilled her. "I do not understand how you can, but you do."
"Yes, Rumplestiltskin," she admitted quietly. "I know you well."