It's been a while, I know! Damn writer's block has stolen so much time. Plus I got engaged, then had a family crisis, then got married, then had more crisis...anyway, a lot's happened in the last year and a half, and I'm sorry to have been so absent! Nonetheless, here is chapter 3 and I hope to not keep you waiting so long for the 4th. Enjoy! (Regular disclaimers apply)

Chapter 3

Two laughing girls. One blonde, one brunette, racing to the swings.

"I bet I can swing higher than you!" Lissa calls out as she jumps on a swing and kicks off from the ground.

"Oh yeah?" A young Kahlan returns, "Well I bet I can jump further!"

Giggling, the girls swing high, their bets soon forgotten as they bask in the sun and the wind on their faces.

"Let's grow wings, Kahlee, so we can fly away!" Lissa calls as she lets go of the swing and flies into the air. Kahlan soon follows after and both girls land with a soft thud.

"Again?" Kahlan asks.

Lissa peruses the playground before her and her eyes light up, causing Kahlan to stifle a groan. Fifteen years old and Lissa still finds ways to behave like a schoolgirl.

"Come on!" Lissa cries as she drags Kahlan behind her. "Let's go exploring!"

Kahlan giggles and climbs the jungle gym with her best friend. Nearly and hour passes in which Kahlan and Lissa slay dragons, snare ogres, and rescue helpless princes when Kahlan is suddenly yanked backwards off the ladder and slammed into the ground.

"Did you not hear me calling for you?" The shadow looming above her demands. "Get in the car now, Kahlan Elizabeth French, or so help me God, I will—"

"I'm sorry, Daddy! I didn't hear you!"

Fire sears across her face. "Do not interrupt me! And did I ask for your excuses? Car. Now."

Kahlan sneaks a glance over her shoulder at her friend. Lissa's face was caught somewhere between fear and fury. But when she catches Kahlan's eye, Lissa's features soften. "We'll fly away," she mouths. A promise.

Moe French wrenches his daughter around to face him, disgust coloring his features. He shakes his head and shoves her in the back seat of the car before sliding into the driver's seat beside Anne, Kahlan's ever-present, yet always silent mother. Kahlan absent-mindedly rubs her cheek on the drive home. She knows her dad has a temper, that it's her fault for not listening for him, but she was usually safe in public. Glancing back at the playground, Kahlan only sees Lissa as she makes her way home. Her parents had forgotten her again. At least that explains her father – no body had been around to see.

And if nobody sees, it doesn't really happen.

That's why Kahlan hates going home.

~.`.~

I jolt out of the memory and bite back a sob as I touch my cheek, almost expecting to feel the heat of my father's slap. Suddenly claustrophobic, I tear down the hill to the park gate, stopping to close it behind me. Then I take a deep breath and turn, fully composed. As I walk home I make sure each step is measured and quiet. No one else needs to know what I'm trying to escape. I put on the familiar mask, even though I know there will be nobody out at this hour, and revel in its comfort.

Hiding is what I do best.

It's what I know.

And one day I will learn how to hide from the monsters within. I have to. Otherwise I won't survive.

Because there's something I'm slowly realizing from all this. I want to do more than survive. I want to get back to being fifteen again with my best friend. It was the last carefree day Lissa and I ever had. And I want back what my father stole. I want back to the day before that night my father stole into my room. I want back to before my mother drank herself to death because she couldn't stop him. I want back to the day before I was forced to grow up, to the day before I hated the sight of myself in the mirror. The day before I experienced a new kind of pain inflicted by my father. I want back to the day before year number one of every kind of abuse, night number one of a nightmarish reality, and the last afternoon either of us set foot in a playground together again.

I just. I want it back.

Locking my front door behind me, I shrug off my coat and toe off my boots. Then I collapse into bed. Silent tears make their way down my cheeks as I cry for my friend, our shared loss of innocence, and the crater she left behind.

Eventually, sleep drags me under and I dream of lost days and make-believe battles with ogres. Of a man with shimmering skin and endless eyes.

I awake the next morning with an unusual thought. Unusual because I'm not panicking, covered in sweat. Unusual because my energies are not immediately spent on locking up my demons in their cage in the back of my mind. Unusual because I notice the sun and the promises it could hold. Unusual because it's a good thought, a hopeful thought. A determined thought.

I must find him again.

I don't know that I'd call myself chipper, but somehow that dream sees me through a day spent trying to figure out how to make arrangements for Lissa. It's not like she wanted anything, but there's surprisingly a lot to do when someone dies, regardless of their wishes. After hours of basically pounding my head against a wall and trying not to mourn my friend, I give up and take a walk, hoping I'll tire myself out enough to dream of the shimmering man. But soon after I crawl into bed I find it doesn't work, and instead I wake up again and again screaming for him to stop and wishing for my friend to wake me up. When the sun finally rises I decide to disregard death for the day and instead surprise Emma with lunch.

"How was David's homecoming party last night?" I ask as I hand her a grilled cheese sandwich and coffee from Granny's.

"He snuck off to see Mary Margaret and Henry asked if David had ever handled a real sword."

I shake my head, grinning. "Is it bad that I'm more surprised at my being surprised than I am at either of those boys' behavior?" Emma snorts, her ever lady-like reply. "Who is it Henry thinks David is, anyway?"

"Oh that's right, I never got the chance to fill you in on all that. Well," Emma says around a bite of her sandwich, "Henry is under the impression that David is Prince Charming from Snow White. And since Mary Margaret is Snow White—"

"The two obviously belong together, right." I finish for my friend. "Which must be why they're so drawn to each other. You know," I say as I think about it, "Apart from Henry's theory about this place and the fact that I don't believe in happy endings anymore, their story would be pretty cute."

"You forgot the wife."

"Oh right," I fake sigh. "Regina and her schemes. It's too bad, too, since they're your parents and all."

Emma casts me a wry smile. "Hey if you want to distract yourself some more from reality, I've got mounds of paperwork you can help me out with."

"This is Storybrooke. How do you have paperwork?"

"Apparently Regina wants everything about the mine documented. Thus the paperwork and files and forms and—"

"I get it! I get it!" I laugh. "But sadly, Her Mayorfulness is well-known for making casual visits to this place, so unless Graham wants to hire another deputy, it's all you."

"The worst part about that excuse is that it's legitimate," Emma grumbles. "When are you going back to work?"

"The animal shelter gave me a week off to do everything so I guess I'll be back there next week."

"Need any help?" Emma asks.

"Lissa didn't want anything done for her so I'm just gonna bury her quietly." If yesterday was anything to go by, I know I'll need help. But what's ingrained in you young is hard to shake and I was punished if I ever asked for help. So why test that now? My father always had an uncanny sense for when I wanted to reach out. I can't tempt him showing up now. Hey, I know how that sounds, but I'm screwed up, remember? And besides, I always figured it out in the end. This time won't be anything different.

Emma nods. "Thanks for lunch, Kahlee."

"Mhm," I reply as I stand from my position on the side of her desk. "Good luck with the paperwork."

"If Graham would get back it would make it go a lot faster." Emma rolls her eyes.

"Where is he?"

"Not here."

"So I'm a little late," Graham's voice sounds from behind us. "But I have good reason."

Emma and I turn to see Graham walking in, carrying a box of donuts. I chuckle and take my cue to leave. I nearly bump into Mary Margaret on my way out and catch the dark haired woman by the shoulders.

"Whoa, Mary, slow down. Where's the fire?"

"Kahlan! Hi! Are you okay? Is there anything I can do for you? Is Emma in there?" The words tumble out of Mary Margaret so quickly I hardly catch them.

"Yeah, Graham is trying to coax her into something with doughnuts."

Mary Margaret immediately takes off and I shake my head, smiling. Some days in Storybrooke are anything but boring. With nothing left to distract me, I wrap my jacket around my middle and head for home and the phone calls that need making. I spend the rest of the day organizing Lissa's affairs and scheduling her burial. My only saving grace is the phone call from Emma relaying Mary's news. David left Kathryn. For Mary Margaret.

Who knows, maybe dreams do come true.

Hours later I look up from my perch on the family room couch to find night has fallen. Yawning, I stand and move down the hall towards the kitchen for a glass of water. But then I catch the sight of Lissa's door to her bedroom. The EMS response team had left it ajar. I reach out to close it, but quickly snatch my hand back and vie in another direction.

I need air.

Locking the door behind me, I zip up my coat, wrap a scarf around my neck, and let my feet pick their own path. Minutes pass as I wander the quiet town and I begin to feel my heartbeat slow. When I'm finally able to take a deep breath I decide to turn around when –

"David?"

The man spins around and relief passes over him as he recognizes me. "Kahlan, right? You're a friend of Mary Margaret and Emma's."

"Yeah. It's good to see you out of the hospital. What're you doing on this side of town?"

"I'm looking for the Toll Bridge. Regina said there was a path for by Mr. Gold's shop, but…"

"It seems as though our esteemed Mayor has led you astray."

"Yeah, you'd think she'd know her own town."

I toss him a wry smile. "She does." But before David can respond, I give him what he wants. "Head two blocks that way," I point behind him, "And you'll find your trail. It's marked; you can't miss it."

"Thank you."

I nod. "Good luck, David."

He smiled as he backs away. "Don't need anything more than Mary Margaret. I just hope she's there!" David turns and jogs down the street. I smile after him.

"I think you just lost me a customer," a soft voice speaks behind me.

I turn and meet the caramel eyes of Mr. Gold, still smiling. "Not a customer," I reply, "Simply a lost amnesiac. And I didn't cause you to lose him, he wasn't going into your shop."

"Are you sure, dearie?"

I roll my eyes. "Let the man find true love, Mr. Gold. No sense in ruining that, right?"

"True love?" He remarks as we begin walking down the street. I'm not sure which of us gives the silent cue, but we're walking and we're together and damn it I forget why that's a bad idea. "And here I was under the impression it only existed in fairytales."

"Well something good needs to happen in this town," I tell him.

Mr. Gold is silent next to me. Finally I sneak a glance only to find his eyes fixed on me again. "How are you today, Kahlan?" He asks me quietly, gently. No pity, no morbid curiosity, just a question from someone who truly wants to know the answer.

Transfixed by his gaze and compelling voice, and no the accent doesn't hurt, it takes me a moment to find the words. And when I do I surprise myself. I tell the truth. "I…I spent the last two days making preparations for Lissa's burial. I don't even know if I'm doing it right or what I could be forgetting and everyday I pass by her room. And I can't close the door but I also can't go in there to go through her stuff and I…I feel like I'm suffocating."

Somewhere during my rant we came to a stop. Mr. Gold steps in front of me and cups my chin, bringing my head up. His eyes lock on mine and hold, even through my tears.

"When is the ceremony?" He asks me.

"It's just a burial," I tell him as I wipe my cheek. "But it's for the day after tomorrow."

"Then that's what you focus on," he tells me softly. "Just focus on finishing all the arrangements and preparing as you need to. Then, on that day, focus on honoring your friend's memory. Just take each day is it comes. No more."

I nod into his hand and offer him a watery smile. What is it about this man that makes me want to collapse into his arms until the world fades away?

But I can't. I can't let him in.

I can't let anybody in.

"May I walk you home?" Mr. Gold asks, breaking into my thoughts.

"Thanks, but I think I'm going to walk some more." I shift uneasily on my feet, hoping he won't ask, knowing I would tell.

"Does it help?" He asks eventually.

I sigh and begin walking again. "Sometimes. If I walk long enough, wear myself out, the nights aren't as hard." Mr. Gold shoots me a suspecting glance, but doesn't press the matter. An image of the golden man flashes before my eyes. The same look. The same face? Questions pour through my head and I'm suddenly glad Gold never pushes.

There's probably a reason for that.

Suddenly exhausted, I rub my eyes. I don't want to ruminate on the complexities slowly forming in my mind concerning Mr. Gold.

"Dearie?"

"Hm? Oh yeah, I'm fine."

Gold raises his eyebrow, the single gesture enough to refute my claim, but again remains silent. I'm beginning to see this is a thing with him.

Not that I'm going to take the time to find out. I shouldn't. Can't. I can't. Pull yourself together, Kahlee. This is Mr. Gold, for God's sake. The man who makes deals for all but peoples' souls. So then why did this, here, walking with him feel anything but wrong?

A hand on my arms catches me off guard and I jump. Mr. Gold steps back, hands raised. I can't help but look around, my eyes catching every shadow, before they settle on the man beside me. "Sorry," I apologize. I really don't want him to…what? Think I'm crazy? To run? To stay? To look into my past? I changed my name, lost my former trail, learned how to be invisible. Auggie helped me and Lissa with all of that. So why apologize when it was only natural for me to fear contact from men? Especially unexpected contact?

But what would he think and would he ask questions I could never answer? What if—

"No it was my fault for catching you off guard." Gold offers me a small smile, his knowing eyes worried but reserved. "I wanted to offer my services." At my wary gaze, he explains further. "You're worried about doing everything for your friend – making the proper calls, setting up the appointment, getting the burial plot—" oh my god the burial plot! –"I can help make sure all that happens."

Fighting every instinct to run away, because I'm pretty sure I can outrun the man with a cane, I instead turn to face him, giving him the chance to prove my racing heart wrong. "You want to make a deal?" It sounds like an accusation. That's only half true.

Alarm flashes across Gold's features. "No," he says quickly. He takes a step toward me and I automatically take a step back. "Not a deal, Kahlan, no business arrangement, no contracts. Just…help."

I study him for a minute more, remembering all the facial and muscular cues Auggie taught me to search for a lie or a hidden meaning. I'm surprised by what I find. His eyes are wide and honest, his face relaxed, his stance beseeching.

Mr. Gold is telling me the truth.

I don't want to contemplate what that could mean. To me or for him. I can't afford it. I can't let myself want his help, no matter what strings may or may not, probably not, be attached. I can't let myself trust him or like him. I can't even let myself want the natural thing – to have my best friend back. It's all just too much.

I don't even know why this man before me offering his help means so much. And maybe that's what seals it in my mind. Because my father taught me never to accept help from another person. And never ask for it.

I may not know much. My brain and body may be screwed up from every shitty thing that's happened to me over my lifetime. But I do know one thing.

I am not my father's daughter.

So I offer Mr. Gold a smile and say, "Good. Because I would have absolutely no way of paying you back."

Gold chuckles and I watch his shoulders relax. Had he been nervous to ask me? "You have enough to fret over, dearie. I would not wish to add to it."

Perhaps it's because I'm finally listening, but something about that word strikes me through. I shake my head and recover my step before Gold notices anything, but I can't shake the feeling that I'm missing something. Something so important. Over one simple word?

"Well thanks," I respond a little late, pushing away that nagging feeling. "Do you think—I mean, would you mind coming over to my place tomorrow to help me?" Mr. Gold looks over at me, eyebrows raised. "I mean, it's only because I have everything all laid out on the dining room table, but I can pack it up and bring it to your shop if you'd rather. I—"

"Kahlan," he interrupts, placing a hand on my arm gently. I almost beam in triumph when my body remains calm. "What time do you want me there?"

A relieved smile rushes over my face, lighting up his eyes. It almost makes me smile harder before I remember why he'll be paying me a visit in the first place. "Anytime in the morning," I tell him quietly.

When I look up to see where we've wandered to, I'm surprised to discover we're only a few doors down from my apartment. And before I can open my mouth to object, because I can already feel my body start to quake in anticipation for tonight's terrors, Mr. Gold puts up his hand.

"You need sleep and time to recover more than you do exercise," He tells me. Well, yeah, but that's because you don't know. "The only way your nights will get better is if you face them."

I gaze warily at my door, fighting back a retort. I can't expect him to understand, but I also can't help the flash of indignation I feel at the fact that he doesn't.

Because he should. He should know that some demons can't be fought, can't be slain. No matter how many times you face them. He should understand that. But more than that, he should understand all of me. Even if I don't know why, I know that much. And in this moment of weakness I allow myself to recognize this one fact I've been denying all along. If there's one person in this town who could ever hope to understand me inside and out – even better than Lissa ever could – it's this man beside me. I don't know how and I don't know why. But it's true.

Just like I know that he's right. Heaving a sigh, I nod and smile at him. "Thank you, Mr. Gold."

He smiles back with just a hint of sadness around the corners of his mouth. "I'll see you in the morning, dearie."

There was that word again. I close the door behind me. Dearie. A strange term of endearment to be sure, but why does it pull at me like something so very dear that I've lost?

I turn the lock and push it from my thoughts. I am still wholly unprepared to contemplate the feelings that man evokes from me. Or perhaps it's what I don't feel that terrifies me more.

Fear, powerlessness, anxiety, panic, anticipation of pain. These are all things I'm used to. These are things I've accepted about myself. Ever since my father, that's all men could ever solicit from me. Except Auggie. But Auggie was different. Auggie saved me and Lissa. Auggie spent months earning my trust and love.

But Mr. Gold. It was as though that trust was already there and he's just walking back into my life and reclaiming it. Which is absurd.

But true.

Because with Mr. Gold, I feel capable and in control. And while my situation and uncertainty hasn't left me or changed, simply talking to the man has left me feeling something I haven't felt since that day in the park with Lissa chasing after dragons.

Brave.

I come-to huddled on the ground in the corner beneath my window, my arms wrapped around my body, grasping at my sweat-soaked shirt. The scream cuts off as I clamp my mouth shut. I blink up at the sun streaming through the curtains, confused. It contrasts so sharply with the darkness of my dream. And try as I might, I can't push away the memory, nor the shiver of my skin as it itches with the memory of his phantom fingers tracing patterns down to places a father's hands should never go. Not fully free, I force myself still and clench my stomach as it roils in its revulsion. My father may not be here to correct my actions, but old habits die hard and without Lissa there to get me out, I feel as though I'm trapped in two worlds.

If Lissa were here, she'd remind me where we were and where we weren't. If Lissa were here, she'd talk and sing and pester me until I smiled and sang along. If Lissa were here, the nightmare would not have gotten as far as it did. If Lissa were here, I wouldn't be falling to the floor in tears, mourning a loss I don't know how to survive. If Lissa were here.

And why can't I be selfish? Why can't I cry for what I've lost and rage at my friend for leaving me here alone? Why can't I, for one moment, not care that Lissa got trapped in that damn alley that night in New York? Or that first night we got to Storybrooke Hospital and what Lissa lost there? Why can't I not care that it tore my best friend up until she couldn't bare it any longer? Why do I have to be so fucking understanding and defend her even to myself? Because I don't care. Not one bit. I don't care what happened or what led her to that moment. I. Don't. Care. I just want my sister back. Because I don't want to go through life without her.

I sigh, the fight leaving me. Because we never compared our histories. We didn't need to. Both were horrific, both unfair, and both left scars that never faded. Lissa grew up with parents who never saw her, or if they did, she was never good enough. I, on the other hand, grew up wishing my father saw me less with all the bruises and broken bones he left me. My mother was absent – in mind and spirit. Father beat whatever person my mom had been out of her a long time ago, leaving only a ghost. I don't know what caused my dad to leave her for my bed, but I suspect it's because he knew I would fight.

It was during those years Lissa had been the strong one – cleaning my wounds, giving me a safe place to go, convincing my dad to let me spend a couple nights a week at her place. Nights Lissa and I spent planning our escape. We kept getaway bags in Lissa's closet after I received a broken wrist as punishment for hiding my own in my closet. We had maps with multiple planned routes and jars filled with any amount of spare change we could muster.

Thinking about those nights, I trace the scar across my abdomen through my shirt. A souvenir from our first escape attempt. Through sheer force of will, I shake off the memory before it has a chance to surface and stand. Because I found what I needed. Those nights are how I want to remember Lissa. Steadfast and bright, smart and kind, encouraging and true. That is the Lissa I need now. How am I supposed to do this without her?

You already are.

His words come to me quietly in his gentle lilt. It's not enough to propel me forward, but those three simple words are enough to keep me standing. They're enough to make me feel like I can face the day.

And maybe tonight I'll dream of the shimmering man who makes my world a little more complete.

The quiet knock comes just as I'm sitting down to a late breakfast. I freeze halfway to my seat, terror rocking through me, before I remember Mr. Gold. He promised to come help me with Lissa's affairs today. I take a shuddering breath, once again cursing my nightmares for keeping my father close instead of across the country where he belongs, and move to open the door. Because I am not going to be that girl in front of Mr. Gold. The frightened, battered runaway. Instead, I choose to focus on the unnerving amount of butterflies building up in my stomach. For once, my untimely attraction to the man on the other side of the door might be helpful. Damn it.

~.`.~

Mr. Gold is about to raise his hand to knock again when he hears the bolt turn. And while the smile that meets him is genuine, making his heart swell, the eyes that find his are red-rimmed and haunted. Gold's features harden and he ignores the fear the steals over her face as he all but barges into her apartment.

"What is it? What happened? Are you alright?" The questions tumble out of his mouth as he scours her living room and kitchen. I should have never let her stay here last night. Her hand on his forearm gives Gold pauses and he turns. Surprised blue eyes evaluate him, a touch of humor around the edges. He takes the moment to really study her, wrapping both hands gently around her upper arms. "Are you alright, dearie?"

Gold watches as a myriad of emotions cross Kahlan's face – shock, confusion, uncertainty, fear, worry – and all Gold can think is how wrong it is for a girl her age to have to carry so much within her. And then before he knows it, Kahlan enfolds herself in his arms, burying her face in his neck. A deep sigh escapes them both, causing Kahlan to giggle. Gold smiles and holds her tighter before releasing her. At least her laugh is still the same.

Kahlan steps out of his embrace and offers him a shy smile. "I'm better now, thanks," she tells him. Kahlan stands taller, her moment of vulnerability over. She turns back to the kitchen. "Breakfast?" She calls over her shoulder. "I don't have much, but I'm sure I could scrounge something up."

Gold looks down at her now soggy bowl of cereal and quirks a smile. "Actually, my dear, Lucky Charms sounds perfect."

Kahlan shoots Gold an easy smile, reminding him so much of the girl she used to be that he smiles back without realizing it. And it's that smile that stays with him the rest of the day. Morning turns into afternoon as both he and Kahlan make lists and phone calls. He catches her staring at him from time to time, an unusual open curiosity coloring her features. He isn't sure if she's questioning his motives (probably) or if she's surprised by the easy way they work together (he finds he is, though perhaps he shouldn't be. She is still Belle underneath there after all.). Regardless, it's comforting to see that questioning light in her eyes. Because life is about asking questions, wanting to know the answers. Gold has found in his many years that death doesn't have to mean your heart stops beating, that defeat isn't when the blade bleeds red, but when apathy reigns supreme. That's when all is lost. And so he keeps her busy with making decisions – does she want flowers for Lissa's grave? What kind and color? Has she picked the burial spot? What about a gravestone? What type of wood does she want for Lissa's casket? To each answer, he slips away and makes the necessary phone calls, takes care of all the arrangements, quietly paying for everything while Kahlan sits in the next room, deciding her answer to his latest question. He spares no expense and ensures everything will be ready for tomorrow's ceremony.

He feels rather proud of himself at having successfully taken care of her that day as he hangs up his final phone call. That is, until he turns around to find her standing in the doorway, arms crossed and brows furrowed. He knows that look, remembers it well on Belle's face in his stone castle. She can't decide whether to be angry or not. Gold remains quiet and lets her decide.

She quiet a few moments longer and then, "You just paid for the engraving on her tombstone."

Not a question, but not quite an accusation. She's still deciding, then. Now all he had to do was figure out exactly what he did wrong.

"Yes," he answers slowly.

"Have you been doing that all day?"

"Funerals are expensive, my dear," he says by way of answer.

"But it's not a funeral, it's a burial. No viewing, no service, just me and a priest to lay her to rest in the ground."

"All of which costs money—"

"Money you're so sure I don't have so you took it upon yourself to just pave the way with your boatloads of cash?" Ah, now she's angry. "And how am I supposed to pay you back? Is this what you had in mind all along? To back me into a corner so I had no choice but to make some sort of deal with you?" She was pacing now, running her fingers through her hair. Gold could see the panic welling inside her and was in motion before he knew what he was doing.

Finding himself before her, Gold holds out his hands, placating, pleading. "Kahlan, stop. Stop. I have no ulterior motives here, I promise you. I seek no deal with you. I only wish to help."

She flinches away from his hands and he knows he's lost her. "I don't believe you!" She cries, rushing to her front door and throwing it open. "Get out! You don't know me, and you didn't know Lissa. You're Mr. Gold. You never help anyone without demanding something in return. And – and I have nothing to give you. So go. Just. Just go."

"Kahlan," he tries once more, gently, trying not to show his fear on her behalf. His thoughts are swarming, but all he knows is he needs to comfort this broken girl before him. But she retreats from him again and he sighs, limping out the door.

~`..`~

I slam the door behind him, throwing all my might into the motion. The nerve of the man to try to use me like that. And to think I trusted him. Well. Wanted to trust him. Started to anyway. Oh hell, who am I kidding. It's those eyes. His damn caramel eyes won me over the moment I saw them. What terrifies me most is that I even wanted to trust him. With his soothing presence and stupid Scottish accent and encouraging words that made me feel strong and brave. All just a front to get in my head and house, to force me to make a deal with him. And for what? Because I was one conquest he hadn't gotten his hands on yet? God.

And yet.

He'd been so baffled, hurt even, just now. And not because he thought he'd been busted. But because – shit, he was telling the truth. He never meant to hurt me.

He only wanted to help.

~`..`~

"Mr. Gold, wait." Her voice reaches him and he turns from his place beside his car to see her walking down the steps towards him. "I'm sorry. I –" She huffed, frustrated. "I'm not good at this, with the words and the expressing myself. But the things I said in there? I shouldn't have said them and I'm sorry."

Gold thinks back to their last fight, when he all but tossed her across the great room, accusing her of betraying him, and denouncing their love. What she did doesn't even compare to his actions. "You have nothing to apologize for, dearie. I overstepped my bounds as your friend in my desire to help you." He turns to go, when she reaches out to stop him.

"But why?" She asks, "Why do you want to help me?"

"Because you need it," he answers simply. Because I love you.

Her hand, still wrapped around his upper arm, tightens ever so slightly. "I can't pay you back," she says softly.

"I don't want you to. In fact," he smiles slightly, catching her eye. "If you so much as try to slip money under my door in an envelope, I'll…I'll burn it."

"Or donate it to charity." She counters.

"Or return it."

She smiles up at him. "What if I wanted to buy something in your store? Either for myself or someone else?"

Gold gives the pretense of thinking on it for a moment. And then heaves a sigh. "Well I suppose if it's for your pleasure, I cannot deny you that. You may purchase anything you'd like from my store, but!" Gold held up a finger and leaned in closer to her, like he would in the days of old, "I will accept no presents for myself."

Kahlan chuckles. "Very well."

Gold walks around to the driver's side of his car and unlocks the door. His name on her lips has him looking up again.

"Mr. Gold? Thank you. For paying for everything. I really do appreciate it, and it saves me from having to wipe out both mine and Lissa's accounts to pay for everything. Especially with all her hospital bills," she shrugs and grins at him. "Maybe next time just ask?"

"That I shall, dearie, and you're welcome. And Kahlan? Tomorrow is going to seem impossible, but if there is one thing I've learned from my short time in knowing you, it's that you are resilient. And you won't be alone."

He can see the tears welling in the corners of her eyes, but she won't let them fall. Her blue eyes are made of steel and her chin is set. He gives her one last smile and slides into his seat. He refuses to look in the rearview mirror as he drives away. He doesn't want to see the love of his life crumble into pieces. He wants her iron will to be the last thing he sees of her tonight.

But his mind is made up. He'll stand in the shadows if he has to, but Rumplestiltskin will be there for his true love as she buries her friend tomorrow.

~`..`~

Goodbye, Lissa. I wanted so badly to say the words. I wanted so badly not to. It was wrong, me standing here in black, my hand resting on her coffin, having to say goodbye to the one good thing in my life. I shouldn't have to do this. She should still be alive, standing beside me, my sister and friend, battling our demons together. She shouldn't have given up.

But she did.

And now I had to say goodbye. But how?

So I did what I always did when I didn't know where to begin. My old writer's habit. I just started.

"You got a beautiful day, Liss," I told her, looking up at the skies. "It's a blue sky scattered with clouds. The trees are green and rustling in the wind, bird chirps brightening the air. It's the kind of day you'd insist we go picnic on, invite Henry and Emma, Mary Margaret, Ruby, and Ashley. They're all here, you know. They're keeping their distance because they know it's supposed to be private. They think I don't know they're here. But they are. Solid to the end, our friends. Henry misses you. He's trying to be strong, but I can see it in his eyes. He's never seen death before, doesn't really know what it means. But he's learning." I pause to take a deep breath and stop my rambling.

"The house is quiet without you. I'm not really sure how I'm gonna make it, but I know I need to. I need to try to survive on my own, just so I know I can. But I miss you. It's tangible, your absence. It hurts and it's not healing and I don't know what to do without you. But I will. Somehow I will." I clench my jaw and try to fight back the tears, but a few spill over and down my cheek, pit-pattering onto Lissa's coffin. "And this isn't goodbye," I say past the knot in my throat. "I'll visit when I can. It may be a while before I'm strong enough, but I will. You can be at rest and there will be a marker so everyone will know that you were here and you made a difference in the world. Just like you wanted." I brush the tears back from my face and gingerly wipe away the tracks tracing their way down the coffins lid. "You made such a difference. You kept me alive and sane, you shone brightly to everyone around you, infecting us all with your laughter. You were the brightest of souls at times, Liss. And that's how I'll remember you. Goodbye, Lissa."

I step back from the coffin, my hand falling to my side, and nod, my signal so the funeral director knows when to lower her down. My body tenses before I register the sounds of shuffling feet and quiet sniffles coming up beside me and I force myself to relax. Emma gently wraps an arm around me and Henry glues himself to my side. I lean into their embrace until Lissa is fully in the ground, then stoop and sprinkle a handful of dirt over her coffin. Emma, Henry, Mary Margaret, Ruby, Ashley, and to my surprise, David follow. Their murmured condolences fade into silence as they depart and it's only when the sun begins to set that I feel him behind me.

~`..`~

"Was her childhood so awful?" He asks carefully. He'd approached her quietly after the service, gently taking her elbow and leading her from the cemetery. Kahlan hadn't wanted to go far, so they'd settled at the crest of the small hill that overlooked the cemetery's pond.

She contemplates it for a while, staring out over the still water as she formulates her answer. "I guess it depends on your point of view. Her parents were negligent and apathetic. Until she made the smallest error. But they never laid a hand on her; they didn't have to. Their words were sharp enough." Kahlan looks up at him. "There was a time when Lissa would mess things up on purpose just to get their attention. But eventually that stopped working too, or she decided it wasn't worth it. It's not something she ever got over, though, their lack of love. I don't think that's something any child can forget or forgive."

"Then why did she run with you?"

He's honestly surprised she skims over his assumption that it was her decision to run away, but maybe that means she trusts him enough to let him know that fact. He's just glad she's finally speaking. "Because we did everything together. We were best friends, sisters. She knew everything about me and my life and loved me anyway." Kahlan took a breath, her eyes closed, "And because when we were fifteen we made a promise to fly away together." Kahlan gives a humorless laugh then. "What we didn't realize then was how hard it would be to stay in flight, and to know when to land. We were runaway birds, always poised for take off, flying from the monster that pursued us."

Gold quietly and carefully takes her hand in his, needing desperately to protect her from the demons that chased her, seen or unseen. She freezes for a moment beside him before lacing her fingers through his. They fit. He shouldn't be as startled as he is – they are true loves after all, something he can finally begin to accept – but it's something he never experienced back home. The feel of her hand in his, the smoothness of her skin, the heat to his chilled fingers. He prays to the gods that he would never get used to this feeling.

But now is not the time. He has one more question to ask. One the papers on his kitchen table holds the answer to. But he needs to hear it from her. "Were you able to land here?"

She stays quiet for a long time, but her hand never leaves his. Eventually her answer comes, soft and small. "For now."

He wouldn't ask her who her pursuer is. Not tonight. He knows he hasn't earned that just yet. And it's been quite the day. Gold steals a glance at her and is met with a drawn face, dark circles, and collapsed shoulders. Part of him hates that he can recognize a desperate soul, whether it be those desperate with need for an object or person, those desperate for victory, or those desperate for their suffering to end. So many desperations, so many opportunities. Which is why Gold doesn't act right away, doesn't take her with him and away from her friend's graveside. He doesn't want to be that man with her. For once, he doesn't want to be the Dark One. The Stealer of Hope.

It's unfortunately how he made his living once upon a time, and perhaps still today. Take away a person's hope, strip them of what they value most, make them focus on survival rather than life, make them simply exist, and he's won. But looking at Kahlan now, Gold sees the evil in his deeds. He didn't have to touch her to ruin her life this time around, but the parallels are hard to escape. Life has beaten her down. He isn't sure with what just yet, the files on his table don't allude to much, other than the fact that Mo French is keeping secrets. But the point remains – life had beaten her down to merely existing. And Gold doesn't want that for her. How can he want that for anybody?

He has his answer. This desire is from his heart, not manipulation by his darker half.

"Kahlan?" He keeps his voice soft, but she still startles beside him.

"Hmm?"

"Let me take you away from here, dearie."

She nods, but doesn't leave her vigil beside the grave.

"Kahlan?" He asks again, sensing her rigid stance is due to more than a reluctance to leave.

"Is it wrong that I hate her just a little?" She asks him in a small voice.

"Oh no, no," Gold wraps her in his arms, drawing her closer to his side. "You don't hate her, dearie, you just hate what she did. You hate that she's gone. But she'll always be your friend, your sister, someone you love." Gold dips his head to catch her eyes. "You're allowed to hate her deeds, Kahlan, but don't confuse it for hating the person who committed them. I'm so sorry, dearie. So so sorry."

Kahlan's watery eyes spill over as sobs finally wrack her body and she holds on to him as though he's her pillar in the storm.

Minutes pass before he hears it. "Please get me out of here." Her broken words send him into action and he pulls her up and guides her through the cemetery to his car, keeping one arm wrapped around her the entire way.

That night Gold lay awake, staring up at the ceiling, his dark thoughts coalescing into a hatred he'd never experienced before. He half prayed Mo French would find his way across the hidden border of Storybrooke so he could take a long-overdue revenge on the deplorable excuse for a father.

Further examination into the medical records Barrows had dug up revealed a history of abuse. Those idiotic doctors hadn't seen it, or had been to scared or apathetic to report it, but Gold saw it clearly. Rumplestiltskin had clung to a wisp of hope back in the Enchanted Forest that the Queen had lied to him about Maurice's cleansing act when Belle had returned home. Perhaps she was truly happy away from him. Perhaps she would come back to the Dark Castle after ensuring her father's health and survival. Perhaps they would get their chance at true love after all.

That day had never come, however, and now Gold knew why.

"You sick bastard," he'd muttered while pouring over the files, "You tortured her then and torture her still. Even though she flew from you, your memory remains, sunk so deep within she can never escape."

Oh yes, those dark thoughts are easy to nourish and Gold lets them build and sharpen within him. Like calls to like in this world, and slowly but surely the lost creatures of the Enchanted Forest were finding themselves citizens of Storybrooke.

"Come if you dare, little man," the Dark One murmurs darkly to the ceiling. "I will be waiting."