Once...And Forever Ch 2 Frolicking In Green and Gold Hell

Emma walked into the apartment sluggishly, and let the door slam behind her. She didn't even notice her roommate until she called her name. She turned and looked at her. Mary-Margaret was dressed up. Well, for her she was dressed up.

"Hot date eh?" Emma said approvingly. Mary-Margaret pursed her lips.

"Maybe. You should come out with me. You need a night out," she said patting her hair into place. Emma shook her head.

What I need is a night in, in my bed, with no interruptions," she said. Mary-Margaret looked impressed.

"Really? Will you be in it alone?" she teased. Emma eyed her.

"No I'll be having Gold over for a little frolic after you leave," Emma replied, and then laughed at the stunned look on her friend's face. "Mare, I'm kidding! Come on you thought I was serious?" she grinned, as Mary-Margaret shook her head.

"What am I going to do with you?" she chided, laughing along with her. Emma shrugged, sitting down at the table.

"So, will you be seeing David?" Emma asked, drawing out the name David, and wriggling her eyebrows a bit. Mary-Margaret blushed.

"Yes," she said quietly, looking around to see if anyone was spying in the windows. She was still uneasy about being with him where people could see them. She was still convinced the world would come crashing down at any time.

"Good for you. Just remember, I'm gonna try to sleep in a bit, so if you two end up back here try to keep it down. Hearing your parents get it on is traumatic at any age," she teased. Mary-Margaret laughed and picked up her bag.

"You are on fire today. Don't worry, we don't, I mean we aren't. It isn't like that with us yet. I mean we've kissed, a little, and talked about it, a little, but that's it really. He's still technically married, so until his divorce is final there's no, stuff going on," she explained, getting redder by the minute. Emma grinned.

"That's kinda sweet. So he's filed for divorce then?" Emma asked taking an Oreo out of the package laying on the table and bit into it. Mary-Margaret looked away.

"Yes, and Kathryn is taking it better than I thought she would, but she's been having a rough time with all that's happened, and she seems to be a sweet person. I don't want to hurt her anymore than he does. We're not in a rush," she assured Emma. "Well, I'd better go. See you later, oh and if you do decide to frolic with Mr Gold, hang a scarf on the door. No mother should ever have to walk in and see her daughter getting it on with a man older than her father," she quipped. Emma threw an Oreo at her as she ducked out the door. She laughed to herself. Mary-Margaret, wasn't always Miss Sweetie Pie. She had a wicked tongue at times, almost like a split personality.

After a sandwich, and a hot shower Emma sighed and crawled into bed. It was only six-thirty, but she was beat, and had another early day tomorrow. The bed was so soft after the day she'd had. She was out in no time.

Two hours went by, and Emma was dreaming again.

"You actually think that after what you've done I'd let you back into my house? After you've been all alone with him for all that time? You really think that I'm so dim that I don't know what happened up there? Caretaker indeed!" he spat.

"It's the truth! He never touched me, I swear!" she cried, wringing her hands in front of her.

"So, you mean to tell me, that all that time the man never so much as kissed you?" he asked her disbelievingly.

"He didn't. I did kiss him once, but it was only," she began.

"Slut!" he roared, cutting across her so she couldn't finish. "You let him bed you!"

"No, I didn't! He didn't, I swear!" she cried. Her eyes must have given something away. He walked closer to her and seized her arm hard making her cry out.

"You wanted him to though, didn't you?" he asked in a deadly tone. She looked down.

"I'm human papa," she said quietly.

"Oh yes, you are, but He isn't! He is a monster! Is that what you wanted? To lie with the monster, and give him little monster babies? And now I'm supposed to feel bad for you, after you unmanned me in front of my people? Going against my word and making a deal with that devil! And now after he's had what he wants of you here you are, begging on you knees like the little bitch in heat you have become!" he snarled shaking her and then pushing her away from him.

"Please papa," she began again, tears coursing down her cheeks.

"Get out of my sight girl," he ordered her. "Take her to the tower," he told two of his men.

"No, let me go!" she cried. "Let me go! Papa don't do this! Help me!" she screamed, as the man coldly turned away.

"I have no child," he replied. "Take her!" he yelled. They seized her by the arms, and dragged her from the room.

"No! Stop it! Let me go! Nooo!" she screamed.

Emma sat up in bed and looked around covered in a thin sheen of cold sweat. Another bad dream, and this one had been a doozy. This time she'd dreamed of Mr. French. He'd been dressed kinda like Henry VIII. And she'd called him... Papa? Glancing over at the clock she realized that only two hours had passed. She flung the covers off of her in anger.

"Shit!" she snarled. "What the hell is the matter with me?" she said aloud to no one. "I'm going crazy!" she swung her legs over the bed and got up.

She went down to the kitchen and made a cup of herbal tea, and sat down at the table to drink it and clear her head. Why had she dreamed about Moe French, and Regina, and those men? It was all so strange, but yet it was all so familiar. She reached across the table to grab a pad of paper, and a red grading pen that Mary-Margaret had left lying there, and wrote down everything she could remember about her dreams. Twenty minutes later she reread what she'd written. It sounded like a weird medieval movie, or something. She was officially going off her nut. Maybe if she took them and showed them to Archie he could tell her something about them, and why she was having them.

She walked over to the sofa, and sat down picking up the remote. There was nothing on TV. Emma groaned and lay back flinging her arm across her eyes. God she needed sleep! Just then the phone rang by her head. She rolled to her side, and grabbed it. She didn't know the number, but somehow she knew who it was.

"Carrie?" she asked into the phone. A tearful reply came.

"Emma? Oh Emma, mom is being so unreasonable! She doesn't want to hear anything I have to say.

She said she's taking me to the clinic tomorrow, and I don't know what I'm gonna do! I don't want to lose my baby!" she sobbed frantically. "Please, you have to help me!" Emma swallowed the lump in her throat.

"I need a few minutes. Don't worry, I'll think of something, and I'll call you back, okay?" she said quickly.

"Okay, thank you Emma," Carrie sniffed.

"Sure, try to settle down. Getting excited is bad for the baby," Emma replied and hung up. Her mind raced. She needed help. She didn't know anyone in child protective services. She had managed to avoid dealing with them during the whole thing with Ava and Nicholas, and she was not mentioning this to the mayor, considering how much she enjoyed other people's suffering. She was sure that what Carrie's mother was trying to do was, well if not a crime, then just plain wrong!

She was in dire need of someone in the know, and she had a sinking feeling she knew exactly who she'd need to ask. She stood up and went to find the phone book. It didn't take her long to find the number, Storybrooke's phone directory wasn't very big. She hoped he was still in his shop.

The phone rang and rang. She was just about to hang up with she heard the answering click on the other end. She swallowed hard and waited.

"Gold's," he said, his light Scottish brogue making her shiver slightly. She had been a sucker for the man's accent since she'd first heard him say her name. Pronouncing it so perfectly. So, sultry, so hotly...Emma shook her head to clear it.

"Gold hey there, uh it's" she started to say to let him know who she was. Not everyone had caller id after all, but there had been no need.

"Emma," he said pleasantly. "You almost missed me. I was about to close up. What can I do for you?" she could almost hear his smile. She smiled a little too, then sobered.

"I need help. Well actually, it isn't me it's Carrie Locke that's in trouble. I have to help her, but I don't know where to start," Emma said, and thought she must sound slightly insane, babbling on the way she was.

"And how can I assist you?" he asked politely.

"Well," she nibbled her lip. "Come over, and I'll explain. I don't want to hold you up from closing up, and it'll take quite a bit to tell you everything," she waited.

"I'll be over in just a few minutes then," he replied.

"Thanks, see you in a few," Emma said, with a sigh of relief, and hung up. Then she looked down at how she was dressed and ran for the bed room to throw some clothes on. She'd just love to see his reaction if she answered the door in nothing but a t-shirt shirt and underwear, and she did mean love to see it.

Mr. Gold arrived, just as he'd said, in a few minutes. In fact Emma was still dragging a brush through her hair as she hurried to answer the knock. She tossed the brush aside and opened the door. He smiled as she met his gaze, and as always she couldn't help but smile back.

"Good evening Miss Swan," he said courteously.

"Uh hi. Come in," she said to him, stepping back to let him inside. He walked through the door, and into the room as if he owned the place, and, well really, he did. Emma closed the door and gestured to the kitchen table. "Sit down if you want to," she walked over and pulled the chair she'd been sitting in out and sat. He sat opposite her, and leaned forward on his cane.

"So, you have me here dearie. Now, what can I help you with?" he asked her. She sighed and launched into the explanation of all that had transpired that day. He nodded.

"I heard a bit about it earlier. Ms. Locke was beside herself," he said with a grimace. The woman could have woke the dead with that screeching. He was certain she was part harpy.

"I guess you heard her yelling then?" she asked. He nodded. "She is being ridiculous. How anyone could treat their own child that way is beyond me. Trying to talk her into adopting it out, maybe, but this, this is cruel," she said wincing. Gold nodded.

"It is. So what can I do to help?" he watched Emma's face closely. She pursed her lips, trying to think of something.

"I was hoping you might know someone I can talk to. Someone in child protective services," her shoulders sagged, and she wondered if maybe involving Mr Gold was a good idea after all.

"As a matter of fact, I do have an, acquaintance, as it were, who works in that department. She has been very helpful in the past. Her name's Wanda Coachman, and she's always looking out for the children's best interests. That's why we get on so well," he smirked. "She isn't like all the others. I suppose I could give her a call," he said lightly. Emma groaned.

"Why do I hear 'for a price' following that statement?" she asked him tiredly. He grinned and gave a boyish shrug.

"Oh, Miss Swan, you know me too well," he chuckled as she rolled her eyes.

"Yeah yeah, so what'll it cost me? Another favor maybe? My firstborn? Cuz you know our lady mayor might have something to say on that one," she quipped. Gold laughed of loud at that last one. Emma laughed too. God she needed sleep, she had reached the slap-happy stage where everything was a joke and every joke was funny. She probably laugh at 'why did the chicken cross the road' right now.

"Oh, nothing as exotic as that my dear," he chuckled, shaking his head. "No, I think another favor would be a good trade," he replied, taking out his cell phone. "I'll only be a moment," he said, standing up to walk across the room out of earshot.

Emma couldn't get over his confidence in his abilities to sway people. It was like he new she'd say yes before he ever picked up the phone, and of course, she would. He should be the mayor, not Regina, but somehow he didn't strike her as the politician type. He'd be more content behind the scenes, pulling the strings. The 'power' behind the throne, so to speak. God she was having too many of these blasted medieval dreams! Yeah, way too many, the word 'blasted' had entered her vocabulary. Who says that, really?

She sat there waiting for a minute, and decided to get up and make some more tea, just have something to do if nothing else. She didn't know if he'd want any, or if he'd even be staying that long. He did, no doubt, have more to do with his night than sit there sipping tea with her, but she didn't want to be rude. The water was boiling in no time so she took it off the stove, and reached to get another cup down from the pantry.

"We have success," Gold said brightly from behind her. She squealed, and jumped, the cup slipping from her grasp and falling to the floor with a dull clunk.

"Jesus you scared me!" Emma cried grabbing her chest. She looked down at the mug decorated with bluebirds on it where it lay on the floor. It wasn't broken, thank goodness, Mary-Margaret liked those the best. She bent to pick it up, and examine it, checking for cracks, "Thank God for laminate flooring. If this had been hard wood that cup would have been toast!" she said putting it in the sink and getting out another one. Gold smiled.

"Not necessarily," he said airily. "Anyway, as I was saying, she will be at their house first thing in the morning with the appropriate paperwork. It would be advisable if you went as well. Ms. Locke is a hot head, and if she tries to tussle with Wanda, she will end up in the hospital," he told her. Apparently this woman was not a person to be trifled with, Emma thought and nodded.

"That wouldn't hurt my feelings any. She should be slapped for the way she's treating her daughter!" Emma declared, and then gestured to the table. "Do you want some tea before you go? Or did you have something to do?" she asked. In a way she hoped he did, but part of her kind of wanted him to stay. She was a little bit lonely without Henry being around. He smiled.

"Nothing that couldn't wait a while. Tea would be nice," he replied and sat back down at the table. She smiled, and sat the cup in front of him. After she'd fixed it to his liking he took a sip and looked up at her. It was, perfect, as if she'd done it hundreds of times. Four sugars, and just a dash of cream. "A dash, and no more no less," he'd made that clear to very few people before, and no one he knew here. Emma noticed him looking and made a face, almost a pout.

"Doesn't it taste good? I'm sorry, I'm used to fixing it for myself, and I always forget to ask how other people want it. I suck as a hostess," she said with a self-deprecating smile.

"No, no it's perfect actually, thank you," he said and set the cup down gently, and put his hands in his lap to keep them from shaking. Emma looked relieved. He looked at her, observing the dark circles under her eyes. She looked paler than usual as well.

"Are you feeling well Miss Swan?" he asked, concern touching his voice. "You look tired," he said folding his hands in front of him. She rolled her eyes.

"In other words I look like hell," she said with a grin. He shook his head.

"Of course you don't. You're lovely, as always. You just look as though you haven't slept," he replied quickly. She was taken aback by his compliment, and had to swallow hard to answer him. He took note of the way she fidgeted when he paid her a compliment, and found it endearing. She apparently wasn't used to receiving compliments.

"I, well...I haven't been. I mean, I have slept, just not enough. It's nothing really. Probably just stress," she said waving it off. He didn't look convinced.

"Are you sure?" he asked in a probing way that made her want to spill her guts. It would be nice to talk about it with someone, although Archie was probably the best bet on that one. She sighed, and relented under his relentless gaze. She could talk to Gold, about some things anyway.

"It's just I've been having a lot of really weird dreams lately. It's nothing," she said simply. He leaned forward in interest.

"Really? I've always been intrigued by dreams. What's so strange about them? If they aren't too personal," he added. She looked away, making him wonder even more, and if she would share them with him. They may have something to do with the curse, of course he didn't tell her that. Not yet anyway.

" No they're not too personal. They're just strange. Nothing like I've ever had before. About people I've met since I've been here, but different. Like it's them, but in medieval get-ups, and weird places I've never seen. Sounds crazy right?" she asked with a sidelong glance at him. He smiled, he had been right. She was dreaming about the Enchanted Forest. But how did she remember? She had been in there only long enough for her parents to bid her farewell.

"Of course not. I'd be willing to bet that a lot of people have dreams like that. I've had my share, but why do they wake you? Are they dreams, or are they nightmares?" he watched her face very carefully, She looked as though she couldn't make up her mind.

"Well," she nibble her lip and shrugged. "Some of them are a little disturbing, but mostly they are just really vivid," she explained. She drank some of her tea, hoping he'd drop it. She really didn't want to go into the actual dreams, and decided perhaps telling him about them in detail would be a bad idea.

"Well, I'm sure you're right. You should try something relaxing before you go to sleep. Meditate, and try to clear your mind," he said helpfully, seeing that she didn't want to give him specifics. She smiled, glad he hadn't asked anymore questions.

"I'll try that, thanks," she replied, wondering to herself why he was being so willing to assist her, but she was willing to try anything if it meant she got a good night's sleep. " Hell I'd drink a magic potion right now, as long as it had the desired effect," she joked, that being eight hours of uninterrupted slumber. He grinned.

"I don't know about magic, but McCutchen's in a cup of hot tea might do it," he said raising his cup to her. She laughed.

"Now there's some magic for you! Too bad you have to deal with a hangover the next morning!" she said, he shrugged.

"All magic comes with a price my dear," he said sagely, and Emma smirked.

"Yeah well I didn't get where I am today be worrying what I'll feel like tomorrow," she quipped, and he smiled.

"Here, here," he said lifting his cup, and she clinked hers against his.

Just then the front door opened. Mary-Margaret walked in, taking off her hat and scarf. She hung it on the hook, and closed the door behind her, turning then to see the pair of them sitting at the table all cozy and drinking tea, laughing together. A look of surprise crossed her face, followed by a secretive smile.

"Oh, hello Mister Gold," she said, looking from him to Emma. "It's nice to see you," she unbuttoned her coat and hung it up as well. Emma prayed that Mary-Margaret wouldn't say anything.

"Good evening Miss Blanchard," he said inclining his head to her. She nodded back, and looked at Emma, who wanted to disappear.

"I guess it is a good evening," she replied winking at her. She dropped her bag on the sofa. "I thought you said you were kidding about the two of you frolicking Emma," she remarked on her way into her room.

"Goodnight," she said waving over her shoulder, leaving Emma thunderstruck, with her mouth hanging open. When Mary-Margaret had closed her door Emma finally looked over at Gold. He have an extremely amused expression on his face, and she wanted to die. Just fall through the floor never to be seen or heard from again. Where was Jefferson and his damn magic hat when she needed it? Take her to Wonderland, Neverland, Archenland, frigging Oz! Anywhere but here!

"What was that about us frolicking?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips. Emma blinked a couple of times, still stunned that Mary-Margaret had actually said that. In front of Gold. Well shit! At last she found her voice to reply.

"Mary-Margaret, and I were giving each other a hard time before she left, and she just got me good," Emma said through gritted teeth. He chuckled, a wicked glint glittering in his eyes.

"Very amusing dearie, but what does that have to do with me, and frolicking?" he asked her, loving the blush that rose into her cheeks. She winced.

"You won't let this go, will you?" she asked him pleadingly. The devil should live in his eyes when they looked like that she observed.

"Not a chance Miss Swan," he teased, his eyes dancing over her embarrassed face. She sighed.

"She asked me what plans I had for the evening and I said I was having you over for a frolic after she left. I was, teasing, totally joking you know, but then you really came over so, I guess it did look kind of, incriminating," she said sheepishly. He snickered, and then threw back his head and laughed, and she did too. He had to admit, she did look very becoming with her cheeks all rosy with embarrassment.

"Well, I'm flattered you thought of frolicking with me, and not someone else," he said, inclining his head in her direction. She rolled her eyes and smirked. In all honesty she did think about him more than was proper, and the fact that he'd been the one she'd teased Mary-Margaret about and not August or even Jefferson, made it all the more awkward. Not that she'd even consider either of them in that way. She'd come to look at Jefferson as more of a buddy, or a brother, and August was just a dick.

"I suppose you think you're special now?" she quipped." He just smiled.

"I don't know. Am I special to you Emma?" he asked softly, and her blush grew deeper. She looked away. Flirt!

"You don't know when to quit do you?" she asked. He shook his head.

"It's one of those things that makes me, me," he replied, straightening his lapels. She wanted to hit him. "Well, the evening is getting away from us. I should be going," he said glancing at his watch. Emma jumped up to see him out, anxious for him to be on his way so she could try to get back to bed. Or die of embarrassment, whichever came first. Although now sleep may be more difficult to come by than it had been before, since she had so much to think about. Like him, and frolicking.

"Right, well, thanks again. I hope Ms. Coachmen is as good at her job as you say," she said following him to the door. He smiled.

"Oh no worries dearie. She is the very best in her field," he replied. He leaned on his cane, and started towards the door, and then stopped. Emma looked at him in surprise.

"Are you okay?" she asked, touching his shoulder lightly. He turned around and and had a very puckish look on his face.

"Oh, I'm fine, but I was just thinking," he paused for effect.

"A very dangerous pastime Gold," Emma said, removing her hand from his shoulder. He stepped closer to her, and took her by the hand. Before she could blink, he had twirled her around and was leading her in a light romp around the living room. Emma was too stunned to say anything, as she followed him step for step around and around, one hand gripped his cane, and the other held on to her hand. He had an almost gleeful look on his face. Emma laughed. She had never seen him like this before. She liked it.

"What in the world are we doing?" she panted, as she hurried to keep up with him. He twirled her around again and stopped her right in front of him so they were face to face, eye to eye. Then he let go of her hand and took hold of her waist instead. She took hold of his and they circled each other more closely.

"Frolicking with you, of course," he replied gaily. "I thought I should make an honest woman out of you," he teased, taking her on a couple more turns, before stopping, and releasing her, sinking into a deep bow. She dropped a clumsy, but more feminine one to him, and gigging and gasping for breath. He was very light on his feet for a man with a limp, but it was still there. No faking that.

"God, that was insane you know!" she said plunking down on the arm of the sofa, and breathing heavily. He nodded.

"Oh yeah,very, but it was fun as well, wasn't it?" he asked her impishly. She nodded, it had been fun. Too much fun. She had liked that way more than she should have.

"Yeah, it was," she admitted. "But, why did you do that?" she questioned, looking into his eyes warily.

"Because, you looked tense, and tension is bad for getting to sleep" he answered kindly, and then grinned. "And, now tomorrow morning you may tell Miss Blanchard that I frolicked your brains out," he quipped, and Emma laughed again. 'If only,' her very sinister brain thought.

"I will, she'll probably faint" she admitted. He nodded in agreement,leaning on his cane.

"Well, I'll really go this time. Ms. Coachmen keeps very early hours, so you will need to be over there early to meet her," he said once again walking to the door. Emma walked with him keeping her hands to her sides in case he decided to pull her into another reel. He didn't he merely turned to her and smiled.

"Good evening Miss Swan, it was a pleasure, as always," he bowed a little. Emma smiled.

"Yeah, thanks again Gold," she replied. He nodded, and exited the apartment.

Emma closed the door behind him, and then turned around with her back to it, a smiled lighting her face, and sighed. Then she caught herself, and shook her head. She so did not just girly-sigh over Gold! She pushed herself away from the door, and grabbed her cell to phone Carrie. Then she plucked her make-shift dream journal from the table, and headed back upstairs to her room. She was gonna try the sleep thing again, and she hoped that this time her over-active brain would cooperate.

Not freakin' likely. A little over three hours later Emma groaned and flung the covers off of her so hard they smacked into the window and she winced as it also struck the small vase of flowers , and they crashed to the floor. She moistened her lips and blinked in the darkness. Her chest was still heaving , and her heart racing. The only light was coming from the full moon outside. She reached and turned on the light. It was only ten after midnight. She reached for her pen and paper she had pilfered from Mary-Margaret, and began to write down the very messed up dream she'd had.

She was sitting on a cushy window seat looking out over a large stone courtyard, with a thick volume laying open, and forgotten across her lap. She was more interested in watching the road that led through the gates, illuminated by a big round moon that hung low in the sky. It was getting late. He should be back by now.

Just then the tall entry-way doors swung open effortlessly, as a man stepped through them. He was the strangest creature! Kinda scary really, and yet she couldn't take her eyes off of him. He wore a white linen shirt, topped with a brown leather vest, and a dark cloak. His pants were leather as well, and his boots reached above his knees. His hair was a wild tangle of waves, mussed by the wind, and he sported an expression of pure glee, as he walked, skipped, hopped towards her. She closed her book and made to stand when he reached her, and took hold of her hands, leading her into a frenzied waltz around the hall, giggling like a child. She couldn't help but join him when he laughed.

"Wine and song, come along, come along," he sang merrily. She shook her head and smiled.

"I take it your business venture in town went well?" she asked him as he released her hands and danced in a circle around her. He trailed his fingers through her hair, making her gasp, and then giggled again.

"Exceptionally well dearie," he said taking her hand and leading her around again.

"What was it this time? Another town need your protection? Did you bring me some help?" she quipped and he took her waist and lifted her off of the ground like she was made of air. She squealed, and then was back on the ground and twirling with him again.

"I see no need to bring you any, 'help' as you put it. You do an excellent job all on your own dearie," he said praising her. She blushed, and took his shoulder as he stepped into a more traditional waltz.

"So you don't make a habit of luring maids away from their homes then?" she asked with a smile. He cocked his head to the side and grinned, pointing one finger at her.

"You would be the first," he said in a sprightly tone, and dipped her low to the floor. She giggled.

"So I'm special then?" she teased. He bobbed his head around.

"Of course you are. I wouldn't have asked for you if you weren't," he replied, and brought them close together, eye to eye. He winked, and then backed away releasing her and lowering himself into a bow. She dropped a curtsy, smiling all the while.

"Thank you, it's nice to feel as if I have value. My father managed not to see it," she said. He shook his head.

"A fool if every there was one. You are worth your weight in gold, and I should know," he said, taking her hand and bowing over it in a very charming fashion. She tucked her chin into her shoulder in delight. "Is supper ready? I could eat a dragon about now," he said.

"I was keeping it warm for you. You were later getting back than I thought you would be," she replied nonchalantly. He saw through her.

"Aww, did you miss me lovely?" he asked her sweetly. She looked away. He'd called her lovely.

"Well, it's a big castle to be in all alone, so yes, I did," she admitted. He made a face that was a mixture of glee, pride, and mischief. Most of his expressions were very animated.

"Well then it was good of me to come back so you could bask in my presence," he said, inclining his head to her. "Now ply me with your culinary wiles woman," he said, tugging at the cord that held his cloak on and pulled it off with a flourish, before depositing it on her head. She scrabbled around to pull it off, and he giggled again seeing her struggle. Once it was removed, she huffed indignantly, and patted her hair back into place.

"Now really!" she scolded, sounding like a mother admonishing a child for something. He giggled at her and mocked her stance, making her titter at how ridiculous he looked.

"Alright, alright. Calm yourself. Go and sit down. I'll go get everything," she said shaking her head. He bounded across the room and hopped up on the long dining table, sitting cross-legged on it.

"Sitting! Now feed me woman!" he demanded playfully, shooing her towards the door. She smiled, and headed towards the kitchens. If anyone else had called her 'woman' like that she'd have given them a piece of her mind, but when he did it she had to quell the urge to answer "yes master" He didn't rule her, even though he could. He made demands, but nothing out of the way. She did work for him, and he was fully within his rights to work her tail off, but he asked no more of her than she was able to do. He really wasn't as bad as everyone thought. A little sneaky, and a trickster to be sure, but not the monster everyone made him out to be.

She gathered bread and butter from the pantry, wine from the cellar, and the meat from the stove. She placed it all on a serving cart and took it out to him. He had at least come down from the table top and was seated at his usual place. She placed the food on the table, and served him his meal. He looked over the food before him with and smiled.

"You will join me this evening," he said lightly. It wasn't a demand, more of a statement. She nodded.

"Do you mind if I move the other chair closer? It's never made sense to me to put the chairs for a table set for two twenty feet from each other," she asked. He shrugged.

"Of course, then I won't have to shout if there's something I require," he said simply. "And you won't have to sit on the table to converse with me," he teased. She giggled, and moved the chair down the table so she sat to his right. He teased her about sitting on the table relentlessly, often asking what his chairs had done to offend her.

She ate little, but he ate enough for the both of them. She never could see where he put it all, but he ate every crumb. Then he sat back in his chair and sighed. She watched him for a moment. It was nice to have someone who appreciated her.

"Did everything taste alright?" she asked him carefully. He smiled contentedly.

"Delicious my dear. The food, the wine, and the company," he quipped. She looked at him, not sure if she'd heard him right, blushing in case she had.

"Did you just call me delicious?" she asked him. He looked at her blankly,and blinked.

"I guess I did," he chortled brightly. She pursed her lips and folded her arms.

"That isn't at all proper you know," she informed him tartly. He shrugged.

"Nothing about our situation is proper, my lady," he replied. "You are here all alone, with no one around for miles. I'd wager everyone in your village figures you've been right and properly defiled by me by this time," he observed, templing his fingers, and watching her to see what she'd do. He thought she'd blush prettily and look away, or gasp in horror, and storm away. She did neither. She leaned forward, and looked him in the eye.

"So why haven't you then? You're right. There's no one around. I could scream my head off and no one would hear me. Why, if you are such a defiler of the innocent, have you been nothing short of a gentleman since I got here?" she asked him defiantly. He leaned closer to her.

"Perhaps I'm lulling you into a false sense of security," he teased. She smiled, and lay her hand atop his.

"Perhaps, you aren't so bad after all," she said softly. He looked from her bright eyes to her small white hand that covered his. "Or perhaps I'm simply not the type of woman you desire," she teased, and made to remove her hand from his, but in a flash he'd taken hold of her wrist. He wasn't hurting her, but he had a very firm grip, so she wasn't going anywhere unless he allowed it. Her eyes found his, questioning, and not a little intimidated.

"You're very wrong to assume that just because you have been safe so far that you will remain so my dear. You are in a very dangerous position, and you had better hope that I continue to value your cooking and conversational skills than anything else, because I confess I do feel the occasional stirring when I look at you," he said darkly. When his voice took on that tone it meant that he wasn't kidding in the least. He stood up, and tugged her with him so they were eye to eye once more, and she was a scant inch from being fully against his body. She blinked, and stared at him wide eyed and frightened, then glanced away. He seized her chin gently with his free hand and made her look into his eyes "Now, it would be wise of you dearie, to never to provoke a man like me again. Or you my beauty will find out how much of a beast I can be. Do you want that?" she shook her head dumbly, unable to reply. "I thought not," he said releasing her wrist and dragging his nails lightly beneath chin before releasing it as well, making her draw a sharp breath and sitting back down, casually throwing his legs over the arm of the chair, and watching her to see what she would do next.

She swallowed the hot wash of tears that burned in the back of her throat, and turned to pick up dishes and place them on the cart. She would not let him see her cry! She'd rather be flayed alive than that! She blinked to stop them from falling from her eyes and turned away busying herself with the cart.

She could feel his eyes on her, watching her every move. She bit her bottom lips so hard it hurt, a trick she had learned to keep from crying in front of her father. Once she had gathered both the dishes and her wits, and turned around to look at him. He was still watching her. She swallowed hard so she could speak.

"Will there be anything else?" she asked, her voice quavering, and she inwardly cursed herself. She hadn't wanted him to know he'd almost reduced her to tears, but, she knew he could hear the tears in her voice.

"Yes, there will be. Come here," he requested with an accompanying sigh. She walked forward and stopped at his chair waiting. He stood up, and took a silver key off of his key ring. It glowed purple for a moment, then righted itself.

"This is for you,"he said holding it out to her. She looked up at him.

"What is it?" she wanted to know what she was grabbing, before she took it. Knowing him it could be anything.

"It's the key to your room," he replied. She looked confused.

"Why do I need a key to the dungeon?" she asked him. He smiled.

"It's not for the dungeon dearie. It's the key to your bedroom," he said, and she looked at him guardedly. "The only key to your bedroom," he added quickly. She caught on, but it still didn't make sense to her.

"You don't need a key to enter a room. I saw you come through a door that had been locked and barred," she said.

"Listen dearie, if you lock your door with that key, no magic of mine will get me through the door no matter what I do," he said tiredly. She still wouldn't take it.

"What's the catch?" she asked him, and he chuckled, closing his fingers around the key, and pulling his hand back.

"I'll give it to you, if you smile for me, and forgive me for speaking so crudely to you, " he replied looking abashed. Her face broke into a grin, and her eyes glistened with unshead tears. He wasn't angry with her. He'd been warning her, for her benefit.

"That's all?" she asked him hopefully. He nodded, and held it out to her. She took it from his hand and the threw her arms around him. He stood there for a minute unsure of what to do as if he'd never been hugged by a woman like that. He patted her back awkwardly, and then pushed her gently away from him. Her face was alight. "Of course I forgive you!" she beamed at him.

"Now, I have some things to do a while before I retire. Your room is in the east wing, third door on the left," he started to walk away, but she stopped him.

"Thank you for the room, but, I trust you Rumpel, I know I won't ever have to shut you out," she said sweetly. He smiled.

"You confidence in my restraint is inspiring dearie, but it is severely misplaced," he replied gravely, and walked past her. She watched him go to his corner. She looked down at the key in her hand and sighed. It really was nice of him to do this, but when the time came, and it would, would she even bother to use the key? Maybe she didn't trust herself anymore than he trusted himself. Maybe, she wanted to find out what a beast he could be after all.

Emma finished writing and then read back over it again. What the green and gold hell had that been about? Only the name she'd spoken eluded her. What was it again? Regal? Ruggle? Rangle? Rubble? She tried to remember, but it was gone. Spoken in a whisper, and then lost. Other than that it had been all too lucid. She could feel the man's breath on her skin, feel the press of the key, the scent of the fireplace, and the rapid beat of her heart as she gazed into those amber eyes.

Who was he? What was he? And why was she dreaming of him? She read back over the dreams she'd had over the past Was he the guy that French had told her off for being with, or maybe the guy she'd declared her love for as she'd jumped to her death? Weird!

"Dammit!" she cursed flinging the pen across the room, and then once again winced as it hit something and knocked it over. She flopped back down on the pillows and looked out the window. Another long night ahead. She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply. She could almost smell his scent, as it lingered in her mind. Spices, wild places, and just a hint of what could only be described as pure magic. And it excited her to no end. Sighing she rolled over onto her side. She was sure he had been her love in this dream world she'd built in her mind. She'd felt it then, when he'd touched her. Lust, oh yeah, but there was more to it than merely that. The real question that plagued her was; why was he so familiar? She replayed it all over in her mind and then laughed. Oh no, no no no. That wasn't even funny. The dancing, the flirting, and he called her... dearie? Really? She sighed and closed her eyes. Green and Gold hell indeed.

A/N There's Ch 2! Sorry, another really long one. But ah well. I hope the dancing wasn't too OOC for Mr Gold but I had to! Rumpel does dance in the story, so it made sense that Gold may as well, just not as nimbly. Comments? Questions? Love to hear 'em.