Once Upon A Time Was Wednesday
By EnigmaSphinx
Chapter Five
A/N: Hullo, readers… I apologize for the wait between updates. I was having some issues with my regular computer and have had to resort to using my hubby's system. It doesn't particularly like me either so please bear with me as I navigate his alien technology. I hope this installment pleases you. I was pretty happy with it, all things considered.
Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT, that is the privilege of ABC et al. I do not own Rumplestiltskin but I'd rather like a shot at possessing him a little or putting fingerprints on him a lot. LOL. I do own Shayde but she doesn't acknowledge ownership very well.
Mr. Gold's eyes bored into Shayde's. No flicker of reaction, no gleam of recognition, no response to her words, just a flat challenging stare. The silence between them deepened into awkwardness.
At length, Shayde tilted her head and looked away. Not out of intimidation but simply because she didn't feel the need to be the victor in a staring contest.
"Well, dearie," she heard him say in a deceptively benign tone. "Perhaps you'd care to elucidate?"
So casual an invitation, issued so softly, and yet the atmosphere was anything but casual. She sensed the thrumming of his power filling the silent room, recognizing the threat to herself. She took off her wide-brimmed hat, letting her platinum-fair hair fall in waves over her shoulders before lifting her face to him. She didn't bother to maintain her semblance of humanity, instead allowing him to really see her.
"Do I need to?" she asked simply.
"You're a fairy?" he asked incredulously, disdain dripping from his words.
"No, I'm not." Shayde blinked at him. "And never would be." She sighed. "I'm Fae, an older and much hardier breed."
Gold's eyes flickered over her assessingly. "The Fae are long gone," he said, "Stories fairies tell themselves of a time when they were…powerful."
She couldn't resist a smile. "Fairytales, indeed," she remarked. "But, in this case carrying only a fraction of the truth. Look at me, Rumplestiltskin, look at me and know the power that I possess."
He did as she asked and she watched the expressions flicker over his face, finally settling into curiosity. "How has a Fae survived?" he asked "And how do you know me?"
She considered the question carefully. At length, she answered simply. "A curse." She shrugged. "Technically two curses, but who's counting?"
"The gods know," he said sharply. "Explain, dearie, and quickly. My patience wears thin."
"It's not a tale that can be told quickly."
"Begin anyway, "he commanded Shayde looked him in the eye.
"I don't think so," she said.
Gold's aura darkened even as his anger showed on his face. "You say you know me," he said silkily. "If that were so, you'd know the inadvisability of defying me."
"And if you were the man I remembered," she shot back. "You'd know better than to speak to me so." She stared at him coldly. "You are, I suppose, capable of any manner of unpleasantness, but I am not a whimpering fairy to cower at your threats. You may do whatever you like to them, I care not, but I am Fae and I can defend myself." She smiled mirthlessly. "I need neither wand nor dust to damage you."
"Is that so?" Gold's eyes were changing, as he spoke and Shayde could see his skin taking a different cast.
"It is," she agreed calmly. "I know what you are able to do. Can you say the same?" She bared her teeth. "By the time you took up the Dark One's curse, all the Fae had died and only the weakest of their kind remained. You never faced anyone like me. Your predecessors did and the dagger did its job on the Fae courts. Tir-nan-og's corridors rang with grief until they were at long last emptied." She paused, considering for a moment. "But that was three dark ones before you, I believe," She continued, ticking them off on her fingers. "So, no you never faced anything more savage or powerful than the little glitterlings."
"How do you know?" He asked her warily.
"I am not ready to discuss this." Shayde gestured toward the door. "Another time, perhaps." He still stood between her and the exit.
"I think not." He planted his cane more firmly and held his place. "I would prefer we discuss this now. How do you know me?"
"I am not compelled to answer you," she said. "Therefore I will not."
She watched as he ground his teeth, the muscles of his jaw bunching and releasing. When his thoughts went to the dagger, she knew it for his aura went utterly black. She waited for his next move.
"I can compel you," he threatened, and waved his free hand. She saw the violet glow of power at his fingertips a moment before unseen fingers closed around her throat. They tightened, cutting off Shayde's airway, choking her.
She didn't react. Despite the choking sensation, she kept her eyes on his. Summoning the mental image of the dagger, she focused on it and drew hard upon her will.
The invisible fingers at her throat fell away. Her attacker's expression darkened. He gestured again but Shayde's concentration on the dagger prevented the magic from touching her.
The room was becoming oppressively hot. Shayde felt the third attack coming and she let in come. Instead of stopping it or turning it aside, she absorbed it. She felt herself change as the power filled her, the last of her humanity vanishing under the rush of raw magic.
Gold's eyes widened in shocked surprise.
Shayde caught sight of herself reflected in a mirror on the wall. She looked like a goddess, dressed in rags. The pretty sundress was a cheap covering for her radiant flesh, her hair shone with incredible light. He eyes were like emerald stars, lit from within by her spirit.
"I cannot be forced," she whispered. Her words rang clear in the stillness. "You simply give rise to my own power with yours." She smiled, showing teeth that were sharper than human, whiter than pearls. "Do you want me to forget myself and take back the nature I have tried so hard to suppress?" She combed her fingers through her hair sensuously, watching Gold's eyes. "You do not know what I am or what I can do. Dark One you may be but you have no idea of my abilities."
He stared at her, his aura still black but unable to maintain itself. Moments later, it was normal and he stood gawking at her, almost completely human. "Who are you? Just tell me who you are."
Shayde softened at the look on his face. "There you are," she purred, stepping closer to him. "There is the man who plunged the dagger into Zuso's heart to protect his son." She breathed in, tasting his emotions- desperation, fear, defensiveness, and licked her lips. "That is the you I remember best." She reached out and touched his hand where he clutched his cane. "I, too, am drawn to desperation, Rumplestiltskin, and yours was the sweetest I ever tasted."
So close to him she felt the heat of his body against her own, Shayde lifted her face to his. Gold's eyes were wide, the dark brown depths full of confusion and concern. Shayde smiled and kissed him.
She gave him back his power with that kiss, letting it spill into his shocked mouth as her lips touched his. His free hand caught the back of her head, holding her as the kiss deepened, but Shayde didn't pull away. She swayed closer still until their bodies were touching and her hands pressed against his chest. He was real and she marveled at it after so long without him.
The kiss broke and he drew back a little, staring at her. She stared back, unapologetically.
"You taste like cotton candy."
She almost laughed at the observation but his expression was so stunned she couldn't. Instead she pulled away from him but his hand in her hair stopped her.
"Don't"
She stilled, waiting.
'Why did you give it back?" he asked at length.
"Because," she sighed. "That's not what I want from you."
"What do you want?" he asked more gently, his fingers sliding down the nape of her neck to rest upon her bare shoulder. "Just tell me…"
"Are you trying to bargain with me?" She stepped out of his reach. "Old habits die hard, don't they?" She gestured, taking in the contents of his shop, lips quirking into a smile. "Or not at all, I suppose."
Whatever he might have said was interrupted by a sharp rapping at the door. Gold muttered something that might have been a curse and unlocked the door, opening it to reveal Sheriff Swan standing on the sidewalk. "Sheriff," he said politely. "What a surprise…"
The blonde quelled him with a glare as she crossed the threshold. "I was looking for Ms. Moil," she announced abruptly. Turning her attention to Shayde, she assessed the woman with a careful look. "Jefferson was looking for you. Are you alright?"
"Oh, quite well," Shayde reassured her. "Mr. Gold was kind enough to allow me shelter in his shop."
Emma's eyes darkened slightly. "Shelter from what exactly?"
"Oh, I felt unwell passing one of the booths in the square," Shayde said vaguely. "I must be overly sensitive to the sachets they were offering. Mr. Gold brought me here to recover." She gave Gold a brilliant smile. "Thank you for your kindness."
"My pleasure, Ms. Moil," he replied. "Perhaps you will come visit my shop again under less stressful conditions."
"That would be delightful," she agreed. "But I should get back to Jefferson. I hate to think I've caused him any worry. "She turned her attention to the Sheriff whose cynicism was blatantly obvious. "Do you know where he is now?"
"I'll escort you to him, shall I?" Emma flicked a look at Gold that promised a future conversation and followed Shayde out of the shop. The door closed behind them with the faint tinkle of a bell.
Emma walked with Shayde for a block before turning to look at her, stopping their progress.
"You have anything you want to tell me?" the sheriff asked. Shayde's brows rose in surprise.
"What do you mean, Sheriff?"
"Lady," Emma said her tone matter of fact. "I don't know exactly what's going on but I am damned certain that something's up. The mayor wants me to investigate you; you're living with Jefferson, having arrived out of the blue from who knows where. No one in town knows you except for him and, I think, Mr. Gold. I know for a fact that your little exchange back there was a load of …crap."
Shayde frowned at that. "I don't know what that means," she said cautiously. "But I believe you are calling me a liar, aren't you?"
"You and Gold both." Emma huffed in annoyance. "Gold's deceptions I'm familiar with," she continued. "But you… I don't know you and I don't think I can trust you."
"What reason should you trust me?" Shayde asked. "As you just said, you don't know me."
"Why are you here in Storybrooke?" Emma asked bluntly.
"I am here for a visit," Shayde answered. "When my stay is over, I will leave. I have no intention of violating any laws or statutes. I intend no harm to anyone in your jurisdiction…" She held up a finger before Emma could speak. "With the exception of irritating and annoying the Mayor, should she continue to bother Jefferson." She paused, thinking for a moment. "Does that make you feel any better?"
Emma pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Well," she remarked. "That was the first completely honest thing you've said to me." Her eyes held Shayde's for a moment then she shrugged, turning back toward the town square. "Jefferson is worried about you."
Jefferson jumped to his feet when he caught sight of them, relief in his eyes. "Shayde," he exclaimed, enveloping her in a hug. "I was afraid you'd gotten lost!" She felt his agitation and was remorseful.
"I'm sorry, Jefferson," she murmured in his ear. "I did not realize you had returned." She pulled his concern from him, letting him feel easier and calmer. "All's well, isn't it?"
"Yes," he said, letting her go. "I promised you a funnel cake, remember?" He looked over her head at Emma. "Thank you for your help, Sheriff."
"No problem." Emma checked her watch. "Mary Margaret will almost be done at the funnel cake booth I promised I'd stop by. Mind If I come along?"
Mary Margaret Blanchard was a petite sweet-faced woman with shining eyes who smiled graciously at their arrival. "Emma! Glad you made it!" Her expression dimmed slightly when she noticed Jefferson. "Oh, Mr. Milliner, I didn't expect to see you here." The man looked slightly embarrassed.
"Ms. Blanchard," he murmured. "It's nice to see you. Are you still making funnel cakes?"
"Yes, I am. Would you like one?"
"Shayde's never had one before," he told her, grinning mischievously. "And I was told by Mr. Nolan that you make the very best."
Mary Margaret blushed at the complement and grinned at Shayde. "Seriously? You've never had a funnel cake?" At Shayde's rueful smile, she shook her head. "We can fix that right away. I'll make you a fresh one."
She picked up a pitcher of batter and a metal funnel then moved over to a pot of hot oil. Pouring batter through the funnel, Mary Margaret dripped a lacy design into the oil. When she was satisfied, she set aside the pitcher and funnel then used a slotted spoon to turn the cooking confection over. Only a few moments later she lifted the golden cake from the oil and plated it. She glanced at the new comer.
"Would you prefer powdered sugar, or cinnamon sugar?" she asked. Shayde shook her head.
"I don't know," she said. "What do you recommend?"
"Cinnamon sugar," the dark haired woman said at once Shayde smiled.
"I'll try that, please."
Mary Margaret sprinkled the requested topping generously over the cake and presented the finished product with a flourish. Eyes bright, she leaned forward eagerly. "Tell me what you think," she invited.
Shayde tore a piece off the fried treat and dutifully popped it in her mouth. She chewed it cautiously. Her eyes closed as she savored the flavor like a sommelier tasting a new wine.
"Well?" Jefferson prompted, boyish enthusiasm in his voice. Shayde opened her eyes and looked up at him solemnly.
"That is heavenly," she said in a reverent tone. "I can't imagine anything better." She gave Mary Margaret a brilliant smile. "Thank you very much."
They were still standing there when David Nolan joined them. Mary Margaret had finished a funnel cake for Emma and the conversation was pleasant, filled with laughter and flirtation.
Suddenly Shayde felt a wave of weakness sweep over her. She staggered slightly against Jefferson, catching his arm. He looked down at her with concern.
"What is it?"
Before Shayde could answer, someone said "Ms. Blanchard?"
"Mother Superior?"
Shade found the nun she'd seen earlier now standing next to Mary Margaret, holding out a little bag and smiling. "A gift for you," she said, opening the bag to show the contents to the dark-haired woman. "Thanks for your help with the candles on Miner's Day."
Shayde felt her stomach lurch violently at the scent from the bag. Horrified, she watched as Mary Margaret lifted out a prettily sewn muslin bag, exclaiming over it in delight. Shayde clenched her teeth as she fought back nausea. When she looked toward the nun, the woman's eyes held triumph and loathing. "What scent is it?" Mary Margaret asked, lifting it to her nose.
"Morning Glory," the nun said, watching Shayde as she spoke. "And feverfew."
Shayde felt a spark of fury that helped her push back her rising nausea. Both were supposed to repel the Fae and the nun's gift was an unspoken warning. As if a fairy might have a chance against a Fae! Like a gnat attacking an eagle, irritating but utterly futile. She forced herself to stillness, her eyes boring into the nun's as she gathered her will and cast her magic out.
A crack of thunder exploded overhead.
It was so sudden and loud that people ducked their heads, more than a few crying out. Mary Margaret yelped, hurrying to turn off the fryer, and Emma rushed to help as the sky overhead darkened ominously. Shayde registered the brilliant flash of lightning that preceded the next roll of thunder. People began scrambling for cover, shouting as the wind picked up with unexpected violence. Clouds roiled overhead, shifting the blue sky to a sickly pewter that turned to an ominous black in moments. The air chilled, the prior warmth of the afternoon leeched away by the impending storm. Horror dawned in the nun's wide eyes and Shayde smiled at her, a slow smile of victory as she leaned against Jefferson. Didn't expect that, did you? She thought smugly. I'm able to fight back.
Although she said nothing, Shayde was gratified when the nun turned and fled toward her sisters. "I suppose it's time to go home," she said to Jefferson wistfully. "And I was just starting to enjoy myself. What a pity."