Once...and Forever Ch 4- A Dream Within A Dream.
After finishing his meal, Gold headed over to Wanda's office to speak with her. The light was still burning, so he rapped on the door, and heard her her call 'Yes yes, come in,' and he entered the door. The little silver-haired woman was behind a desk piled with paperwork. She glanced up and took off her her glasses to clean them on the hem of her sweater.
"You take your time, don't you boy?" she said gruffly. He smiled at her mildly, and closed the door behind him. He limped over to her, and stood before her desk.
"Forgive me, I don't get along as quickly as I once did," he said. She smiled at him warmly.
"Sit then dear one, and rest your bones," she pointed to a chair next to hers. He nodded appreciatively and hobbled over to sit by her. She spun her chair to face his. He leaned on his cane in front of him, and watched her eyes.
"What can I do for you auntie?" he asked her. Wanda was indeed, besides his son, the only family he had left. He had remained her favorite nephew even after the curse took him, but being what she was she couldn't see him much after that. She sighed, and inclined her head at the paperwork in front of her.
"One of my charges needs legal advice. Mark Corban, He can't afford to pay, but then you know why, don't you?" she said coldly. He nodded.
"Cora wasn't exactly generous to her brothers, was she?" he asked. She shook her head.
"Mark's brothers weren't kind to him either. They left him with nothing after their father died," she said. "I was going to help him before, 'the event'" she said, referring to the curse. Gold looked away from her piercing gaze. "Anyway he had gotten himself in trouble, the graffiti you know. Mother Superior was quite put out about it, considering it was her car he tagged," she sniggered, and it was clear she didn't like the woman. Gold pulled a face.
"Yes well, it was an ugly car anyway," Gold joked. Wanda's eyes twinkled.
"Would you mind taking his case dearie? He needs help, and me without my wand," she trailed off, sounding careworn. Gold knew that trick. He used it on occasion.
"I suppose I could," he replied in the same tone. She perched her glasses back on the bridge of her nose, before picking up her pen, and looked at him.
"I'll owe you one. The specifics of what I owe, I leave up to you," she told him heedlessly. He smiled.
"Agreed. You realize that you are one of only two people that I know who would make that deal aunt," he said to her.
"Yes, Miss Swan is a very brave girl. Very brave indeed. She would doubtlessly stand up to you there as well as here, and smile about it," she praised her with a little chuckle.
"You like her," he observed. She peered at him over her glasses, and smirked.
"I'm not the only one, although I do believe we like her for different reasons, thank the gods," she teased him, and enjoyed watching her beloved nephew's reaction. He shifted in his seat under his aunt's piercing gaze.
"She's a remarkable woman," he said, finding something outside the window to glance at, not wanting his aunt to see his face, as the mention of Emma Swan made him blush like a schoolboy with a crush. The woman was maddening, and though his aunt was a very observant woman her wondered if he hid his feelings well enough that all the town gossips weren't talking about the dirty old pervert he was being by lusting after a woman who was almost young enough to be his daughter. He'd try to stay away from the woman, but he just couldn't. In one way, or another he ended up in her presence at least once a day, and he always looked forward to those moments.
"That she is. I only wish she'd had a more reliable guardian. The poor dear has had such a time of it," she said wistfully. If she'd had the opportunity to watch over her as she should have done, she would have. Self-righteous snit that the Blue Fairy was, and she had allowed the carpenter to send his son through instead. If Wanda had been in charge she 'd have seen that Emma was protected properly.
She should have had one of her parents, or a fairy guard, not a little boy! And how was Geppetto's lot any better now? His son was his assistant, and he didn't even remember him, while his son was dying from a spell placed on him by the benevolent Blue Fairy. What child is perfect and never lies? Not one. In her experience even the most carefully brought up children made mistakes. Correct them, love them, yes. Turn them back into a puppet for doing it, that's just cruel.
"Emma has turned out well, despite her upbringing. She is strong, and intelligent. She can withstand anything Regina throws at her, I'm certain," he said in an off-handed way, trying to cover for his reaction moments ago. Wanda nodded.
"You're right about that. But strong as she is, she could use some looking after," the older woman said kindly. He huffed.
"Her mother is doing that. She has it well at hand," he said shortly.
"When I spoke with her earlier, she brightened at the mention of you dear one," Wanda impressed on him. "She cares for you as well."
"You are mistaken auntie. She could never care for me, not truly" he said dolefully. Wanda clucked her tongue sympathetically.
"You thought that before dear one, and it was you who was mistaken," she told him plainly.
"How do you know about that? You weren't allowed to take me as a charge!" he demanded, his voice tight in anger. His aunt pursed her lips.
"I still watched over you as much as I was allowed. Anyway, you may not have been my charge dear one, but she was," Wanda admitted. His face filled with color.
"Then why didn't you save her?" he demanded. "Why did you let her die?"
"I wasn't allowed to save her," she replied raising her voice slightly. "Once she came to stay with you she was taken from my sight, but I remained linked with her, as I am with all my charges. I felt her joy, her sorrow, and her love for you, til she could feel no more. Her last breath spoke of love for you dear one," Wanda said soberly. Gold swallowed his tears, and looked down. "Emma would have been my charge if not for the curse, and though I never officially took her on, I read her well," Wanda reached out and touched her nephew's hand. He looked up at her. "She feels deeply for you, though she may not see past her raging hormones yet. Give her a chance love, that's all I ask. It'll turn out alright in the end," she patted his hand encouragingly.
"Why do you care about this so much anyway?" he asked, reading her placid face. She grinned impishly.
"I'm invested in you future?" she quipped, and he almost broke into a grin himself. His aunt had guts, that was for sure. "You're my blood dear one. I care about what happens to you," she sighed. Gold struggled with his composure for a moment before removing his hand from his aunt's.
"I'll speak to Mark first thing tomorrow," he told her standing up. "I'll see you later auntie," he said. Turning for the door. She nodded.
"To right you will! Come visit more often boy!" she demanded jokingly. He turned and smirked at her.
"I'll try. Busy man you know," he told her. "Instigating apocalyptic battles is very time consuming," he quipped. His aunt tittered, and waved at him as he exited her office.
Gold walked out onto the street and took a cleansing breath. He'd learned a lot in that visit. His aunt never failed to surprise him, but he'd never known her for matchmaking. And why Emma? True she had shown interest in him, but it was animalistic attraction, nothing more. Emma was fearless, cunning, and hauntingly beautiful, and he couldn't believe she'd ever really want to be with him, for more than one very hot night anyway. Don Juan he was not, and for all of his bravado, and his reputation for being a hard-ass, he was still, at the end of the day as chipped as the tiny bit of china that meant so much to him. And a woman like Emma Swan, a princess in her own right, deserved more than a broken man.
Emma barreled through the door, tossed her bag of food onto the kitchen table, before flopping down on the sofa, fuming and flushed. She was so glad Mary Margaret wasn't there to ride her about why she was in such a state. Furious that dreams at night weren't enough, oh no! She was now fantasizing in broad daylight! And about him, of all people! No hot fireman, or famous studs for her. No siree, she wanted the lanky, limpy, absolute hotness on a walking stick, pawn-broker! And what's worse? He knew it! God she wanted to hit something! Or someone, namely, said pawn-broker. Well maybe not hit him.
She grabbed a sofa pillow, put it over her face, and screamed long and loud into it. Was she that hard up for action? She had been crushing on him for a while now, but come on! Granted, she had had one full drink, and half of another, but she hadn't been that addled. She could drink with the best of them. So it hadn't been the whiskey, it was simply the man was that intoxicating. She needed to try to stay away from him for a few days until the poisons had left the building. She'd never hear the end of it from him if she didn't.
She sighed and went over to the kitchen table, taking out her food and setting it on the table. Just then she spotted a note in the center of the table. She picked it up and turned it over. It read,
"Emma
I'm stating late to tutor Nicholas in math. I'll be eating out, but I threw a casserole together last night if you want some of it. And I put your laundry away. You're welcome, oh and Carrie wants you to call her. See you later.
M.M
Emma smiled at the note. Put an O between those two M's and there you have it. It was really like living with her mom sometimes. She calmed down a little at that, and looked at the bag of greasy food she'd bought. She shrugged. She could eat the diner food now, and have some of Mary-Margaret's casserole later. No doubt she'd be awake later, and hungry.
She ate her dinner, and then picked up her cell phone. She dialed Carrie's number and waited. The girl sounded like a different person from the other night.
"Hi Emma," she said brightly. "Thanks so much for coming by today," she said, and Emma smiled.
"No problem. Has your mom been alright to you?" she asked, and Carrie giggled.
"She's too afraid not to. Ms. Coachman really shook her up," Emma nodded.
"Good. So when do you go to the doctor?" she asked, and Carrie sighed.
"Not until next week. I'm anxious," she told her excitedly. Emma understood. She had been too. Even though things hadn't worked out for her, she'd been in awe of the fact there there was a living thing inside of her.
"Well, I'm glad things are better. Let me know what you find out, okay?" Emma made her promise, before hanging up. She was dog tired so she went on upstairs with her little dream journal, and placed it beside her bed. She soaked in the tub for a bit before climbing onto her bed and relaxing her mind, trying to find her happy place.
She thought of Henry, and playing with him at the castle. The thought made her smile a little sadly. It had been too long since that ice cream, and she missed him so much! He was so happy that day, and he'd even bought Mister Gold's ice cream out of his allowance. "Tell him it's an, 'I'm sorry for leaving you alone with my incredibly evil mother' present. He deserves it," Henry had joked. He was such a thoughtful kid.
Emma stretched out on the bed, and closed her eyes, breathing deeply, and tried to clear her mind of all stress. It wasn't working. Her thoughts were still on Mister Gold. Why of all people was she drawn to him? He was always up to no good, although he did have his good moments. She had glimpsed a hint of his good side when he'd given her the walkie-talkies, and talked so lovingly of her time with Henry. It had made her wonder if he had any children. He'd spoken like he'd had a child, and lost it, and he had seemed so sad she'd wanted to hug the man.
Yes he was a bit of a, well a scoundrel sometimes, and he did have a criminal record for beating someone, although after all the trouble she'd had out of French today a part of her wished he had beaten him to death. Jerk off! And anyway she was no one to talk about criminal activity. She had committed crimes while pregnant, and had been arrested twice since she'd been in Storybrooke.
Gold was no white knight, but he did at least try to help, and he was on her side where Regina was concerned. And at times, he could be so devilishly charming, that that in itself should be a crime. He had managed to charm his way into her thoughts far more than he should be there. She rolled to her side and slowly drifted into dreams...
She was in a deep marble bathtub, soaking in warm rose scented water. The room was lit dimly, the flames from the gaslights making the shadows dance. She sighed and poked at the bubbles with her toes. This was the most relaxed she'd been in a long while. She closed her eyes and slipped under the water to wet her hair. The tub was deep enough that she could turn over fully without coming up out of the water. Much better than the the small wooden one she was used to using. She reached up and gripped the side, and pulled herself up out of the water. She figured she must look like a mermaid or something, and giggled at the thought. She shook her hair out, and reached for the shampoo on the ledge of the tub. It smelled like roses as well. She lathered her hair and then sank back into the water to rinse it. When she came up this time she gasped, and ducked back under the water. She wasn't alone in the room. He was there! Watching her with wicked eyes. He grinned and walked to the edge of the tub.
"Enjoying yourself my dear?" he asked, his voice taking on that deadly husky tone that meant trouble.
"I just, well, you did say I could use it when I needed it," she pointed out, trying to keep herself under the water. He nodded.
"So I did, but you see, I was planning on bathing tonight, and you are in my bathtub," he said folding his arms, and smirking. She huffed indignantly.
"You have a private bath in your chamber you know," she reminded him. She should know. She cleaned it often enough. He giggled.
"This is my castle dearie, all the bathrooms are mine, and I can bathe in any of them that I choose," he replied in a sing-songy voice. She swallowed hard.
"Well, if you'll just step out for a moment I'll get out and you can have it," she told him. He smirked again and shook his head.
"There's no need dearie, you may finish your bath. It's a big tub," he said simply, and shrugged off his vest. She gasped.
"You aren't coming in with me?" she said in shock. He smiled at her.
"Waste not, want not," he said unbuttoning his shirt. His green-gold skin shimmering in the dim lamp light.
She nibbled her lip as he shrugged out of his shirt as well. She sank lower in the water until only her head was visible. He was really going to do this, and there was nothing she could do about it, and honestly,she really didn't want to do anything about it. She looked away shyly as he continued to undress, the rustle of linen, and the faint squeak of leather, and they slid from his body to the floor He was watching her intently. She was nervous, but she was also anxious. He wouldn't hurt her, she believed that. She was his forever, and so far he had been nothing but nice to her.
She heard the splash as he stepped into the water, and steeled her nerves and turned to face him. He stood before her in all of his glory. She knew what a man looked like from all the books she'd read, but no book could have prepared her for this sight. He was, well in a word magnificent. He still wore that blasted smirk as he sank into the tub in front of her, but his eyes told a different story. Nervousness mingled with the evident desire. She swallowed the lump in her throat, and forced a smile.
"Well, as long as I'm in here with you, do you want me to wash your back for you?" she offered tentatively, wanting him to say yes so she had an excuse to touch him. He shrugged.
"If you like dearie," he drifted closer to her and turned his back to her. She reached for the spare washcloth hanging near the tub, then moved so that she was right behind him.
She was gentle as she scrubbed his back, and shoulders, making sure to brush his skin with her fingertips. His skin wasn't rough, as she'd though it would be. She didn't want to stop there, so she washed down his arms, and back up again, and then across the tight cords of his neck, his hair tickling her arms as she did so. He sighed softly, and a small secretive smile lit her face. He liked the fact that she was touching him. He shifted a bit, and their skin brushed against each other. They both inhaled sharply at the contact, and he tensed up a little, worried that she'd shy away from him. She didn't, but rather moved the cloth around to his chest, washing across the flat planes, and lean muscles of his torso. They were flush against each other now, and she didn't know what would happen next. She wanted to keep washing him, but she wasn't sure she could make her trembling hands do it. She leaned close to his ear.
"Do you want to do the rest Rumpel?" she asked him thickly, her voice trembling slightly. He turned so that they were practically nose to nose, and her mouth went dry.
"Aren't up to the task dearie?" he asked her playfully, but his eyes were blazing with desire. She shrugged.
"Well, I've never touched a man before now, let alone washed one, and I don't have those, those parts to worry with myself, so," she trailed off. He laughed, and took hold of her hands, and drew her around in front of him so he could see her face.
"You have legs dearie, and feet as well, unless you've misplaced them somewhere," he teased. She pursed her lips.
"Those aren't the parts I was referring to, and you know it!" she fumed, and he reached out and touched her face tenderly.
"I know that lovely, it was only a quip," he said. "Now, let's put this aside," he said taking the washcloth from her and draping it over the ledge. She watched him, confused.
"I thought you wanted to finish bathing," she said, as he pulled her closer to him.
"I already bathed dearie," he admitted. "Now, grant me the same courtesy I did you a moment ago," he said gently.
"What do you mean?" she asked and he smirked.
"You watched me as I got in. You've seen all of me lovely. Now play fair, and do me the same courtesy," he said, his voice a bit tight, and she understood. He wanted her to stand up so he could see her fully. She nodded, took a deep breath, and held her hand out to him so he could help her to stand. He took her hand and watched hungrily as she slowly stood up on wobbly legs. He stared, wetting his lips and breathing in a shallow way, that told her he approved of what he was seeing. He recovered only slightly, and held up one finger gesturing for her to turn around. She did and as she turned back to face him he was grinning and almost panting, his eyes devouring the sight of her She held out her arms and watched as he swallowed hard.
"Do I please you my lord?" she asked him. He held his hand out to her and when she started to sink back down into the water he tugged her close to him and looked deeply into her eyes.
"Oh you are without a doubt the best deal I've ever made beauty," he said, his voice gravelly, taking her in his arms and slanting his mouth over hers. She melted into him, tangling her fingers in his wild locks and pressing her body against his fervently, wanting, no, needing his touch. Craving it, demanding it.
His lips left hers and she made a sound of protest, until they strayed down to trace along her neck in soft nibbling kisses, followed by deeper more passionate ones. She whimpered, as he rained attention on her skin from his lips and hands.
All of a sudden she sat up in bed heaving, covered in sweat, and looking around the room disoriented. Where the hell was she? This wasn't her room! Well, it was, but it wasn't. Something was very off about this! Then the vision swam before her eyes and she was sitting in her own bed, in Mary Margret's place, and was again heaving, and out of breath. What the hell was going on? That had been a dream? All of that a stupid dream!
"Ah, come on!" she said looking up at the ceiling in annoyance.
"Emma? What's the matter my dear?" a voice said from the shadows.
"Gold? What are you doing here?" she asked him. He walked forward into the dim light, and he shrugged as he watched her closely.
"I don't know exactly. You wanted me here, so here I am," he moved around the end of the bed like a stalking predator, and sat down on the end. "So the question dearie, is what do you want me to do here?" he asked in that sultry honey-smooth voice that made her insides melt.
"Um, I didn't, I mean...I don't understand. I didn't ask you to come," she began. "I was asleep having one of those messed up dreams, and," he stroked the backs of his fingers down the side of her face, and she stopped talking and sighed. He chuckled.
"I saw you watching me earlier, undressing me in your mind's eye. Wanting me to touch you, kiss you, take you right then and there. The same things you want now," he said. It was a statement, and one she wished she could deny, but she couldn't. He smiled. "Now answer me Emma. What do you want me to do here?" he asked again, and she reached out and grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him close to her.
"Help me remember, or make me forget," she pleaded, and he wet his lips.
"I will, if you will lovely," he breathed, and he reached out and he seized her hips pulling her across his lap, and kissing her deeply. His cane clattered to the floor, forgotten in his need and hers. She pulled at his tie,and unbuttoned his shirt, while he pulled her t-shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor by his cane, soon to be joined by his shirt, tie, and jacket. She grabbed for his belt, and undid it and his trousers, and pushed at them ferociously. He helped her divest him of them and they joined the pile on the floor, before he was at her again, sliding his hands under her legs and pressing her back onto the mattress. She wore nothing but her boy shorts, which he made short work of, and she threaded her fingers through his hair and kissed him with all she had in her. Their bodies twining together like flax on a spindle. After a moment her broke the kiss to breathe and latched his lips to her collarbone, somehow knowing that that would drive her insane.
"Gold," she moaned the only name she had for him into the near-darkness. He broke away from her skin to lean close to her ear.
"Emma," he rasped, and that almost did it for her right there. Her name, on his lips, his voice desperate with want. She sighed and he looked down at her. She took hold of both sides of his face.
"What's you're first name Gold?" she asked softly, and he chuckled.
"You already know it love," he breathed, running his hands all over her, making her whimper.
"I know! I don't remember!" she cried out, as his clever fingertips made contact with a very sensitive spot, teasing it as he had his cane earlier. He smirked.
"Oh no worries Emma. You'll remember, I'll see to that," he said breathlessly. "And once you remember, you'll never forget it, because by the time I'm done with you you'll be screaming it," he growled, and assaulted her neck again making her cry out again, she was so close she could taste it...
And then, her eyes were open, and it was gone, all gone! She sat up in bed as before, covered in sweat,and reached to turn the lamp on. The blankets were tangled, the sheet torn from the corners of the bed, and she was alone.
"Fuck!" Emma screeched, and flung the blankets off of the bed, and got up, storming across the room. "Stupid fucking dreams! The one time I don't want to wake up from a dream, and I wake up from two of them! Son of a fucking bitch!" she yelled and started kicking the closet door, and then punching it. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!" she roared, and on the last 'damn it', she punched through the mirror on the back of the door and broke it, cutting her hand. "Shit!" she yelped. Mary Margaret pushed her way into the room, and stared wild eyed at her thoroughly rumpeled, and clearly distraught friend.
"Emma! What the hell are you doing?" she cried, and rushed to help her. "God, you're bleeding!" she gasped, looking at Emma's hand. Emma had tears in her eyes.
"I can't get any sleep because of these God for-fuck-saken dreams, and the one time I have a dream that I don't want to wake up from I do, of course!" she complained. Mary-Margaret clucked her tongue, and looked at the wreckage of the bedroom.
"Must have been some dream then," she quipped and took Emma by the hand. "Come in here and let's get that hand cleaned up. You might need stitches," she said leading Emma into the bathroom. She got a towel to clean it with. Emma rolled her eyes.
"Great, I so do not want to have to explain this to anyone else," she said tensely. Mary-Margaret nodded.
"Okay, I'll try to fix it for you. I have some bandages," she said, and worked quickly to bandage her hand. "You''re lucky you didn't break anything but the mirror," she said. Emma looked at her and scowled.
"The bedroom is lucky the mirror is all I broke," she retorted, and Mary-Margaret laughed.
"Well I've been meaning to redecorate in there anyway. What was so bad about these dreams anyway?" she asked, and Emma sighed.
"They weren't bad, hence the pissed off reaction at waking up. The man's even a tease in dreams," she said mostly to herself, but Mary-Margaret caught it and smirked.
"What man is a tease?" she asked. Emma sighed. She knew she could trust Mary-Margaret to keep her mouth shut, but she wasn't sure she wanted to dish about her Gold fantasizing, but then, who else could she tell? Not Archie, that's for damn sure.
"I was dreaming about," she winced, and finished the sentence. " Mister Gold," she finished. Mary-Margaret just stared.
"Wow, all of that was over him?" she asked. Emma nodded. Mary-Margaret looked impressed.
"Maybe you should have him over to frolic after all. Then maybe you could get some sleep," she teased, and then blushed at her daring. Emma rolled her eyes.
"It's not funny Mare! It's bad enough the man haunts my waking hours, now my dreams too," Mary-Margaret looked confused so she had to explain about the staring and the drinking, and the embarrassment earlier. Mary-Margaret shook her head.
"That Ruby!" she chided. "Well if it's any help at all, it's plain to see the man likes you too. He lights up like the sun when you are around. He never smiled much before you arrived here," Emma shrugged. "Do you like him, or do you just want to sleep with him?" Mary-Margaret asked her. She has adjusted her opinion of Mister Gold since he'd saved her ass during the trial. She almost liked him now.
"I like him way too much, " she sighed. " I shouldn't like him, I mean, everyone's afraid of him," she said.
"You're not," Mary-Margaret observed.
"Yeah. He committed arson you know," she reminded Mary-Margaret.
"To help you, and would you have really hated it if he had managed to blow Regina up?" Mary-Margaret replied wryly.
"Okay, point taken," Emma said with a smirk, and then a worried look crossed her face. "He beat up a guy," Emma said, nibbling her lip.
"Because he stole something important to him. How would you be if someone stole your baby blanket?" Mary-Margaret pointed out, and Emma sighed.
"I'd beat them senseless," she admitted. "But," she looked for some other retort, but there was nothing.
"See, you can like him, you two have a lot in common, violent tendencies and vigilante justice aside," she teased, earning her a look from Emma. "And, I know he likes you. Didn't he tell you so?" she asked, and Emma nodded.
"Yeah, he likes me because I'm not afraid of him. Because I stood up to him," she said with a sigh. Mary-Margaret shook her head.
"He likes you because you're beautiful, and spirited, and funny," she said chucking Emma under the chin. "You must get it from my side of the family," she said with a little laugh. Emma sniggered. "The question is, what do you like about him, and is it enough of a reason to date him?" her friend asked sagely. Emma thought about it for a minute.
"He's funny, and he can be sweet, and very charming. Then there's his smile, and his voice," she trailed off, and then shook her head. "See, you've got me gushing over him like a lovesick teenager!" she groaned. Mary-Margaret smiled.
"Honey, that's what's wrong with you. You keep dreaming about the man, maybe the dreams would stop if you got some of the real thing," she said, and then covered her mouth and giggled. Emma's mouth dropped open in shock. "I can't believe I just told you to go get some of Gold," she cried, and Emma recovered and laughed.
"Yeah, really! What the hell mom? Good talk there! And before you ask, yes I have protection," Emma quipped, and Mary fell over in the floor holding her sides.
"Oh God! Emma you are such a brat!" she teased swatting at her. Emma dabbed at her eyes, and they sat gasping for a moment before either of them spoke.
"So, you think Gold is the man from my dreams?" Emma asked, and Mary-Margaret looked confused.
"He isn't? I thought you just said you dreamed about him. Who else is there?" she asked motioning for Emma to come out and sit in the living room. They both flopped down on the couch and Emma shook her head.
"I did dream of Gold, but then there's this other guy. He resembles Gold in a way, but in another way he's totally different," Emma said, and Mary-Margaret wrinkled her brow in confusion.
"So maybe he's your medieval version of Gold?" she offered. Emma shook her head.
"He's so different to be the same guy. Gold is reserved, and quiet most of the time. This guy is like the flipping joker! He laughs a lot, and he's well he's hard to describe. I guess he could be some dreamy-messed-up version of Gold. They do say some of the same things, and do some of the same things," she mused. "Like the dancing thing, and the deal making thing, and the calling me dearie. And then there were other similarities," she mused, remembering the feel of both sets of lips in the exact same spot on her neck. Her hand drifted there, and she sighed. Mary-Margaret cleared her throat, and Emma's hand flew back to her side. "Never mind that, oh hell maybe it is him, and I'm making him some kind of wizard or something." Mary-Margaret nodded, a little embarrassed, and changed the subject.
"I've dreamed about David too, so don't feel alone there," she said. Emma shrugged.
"Do you dream of him in medieval dress, and all that?" Emma asked , and Mary-Margaret nodded.
"Oh yeah, all the time sweetie. I attribute it to Henry's theory, and laugh it off, but he is always my prince," she said with a small smile.
"That's sweet Mare," Emma said with a smile. "I'm really glad you two worked things out."
"So am I. I was going crazy not seeing him," Mary-Margaret said quietly. "So, are you gonna bite the bullet and ask him out?" she asked. Emma shrugged.
"He may not want to go out with me," Emma said with an apathetic little shrug. "Just because he likes me doesn't mean he'll want to date me, and I'm not sure I want to date him either. I think I'll just see what happens. I'm really worried about Henry, and all that right now anyway," Emma sighed, and leaned back on the sofa.
They sat up talking for a while before Mary-Margaret gave a big yawn, and said she had to get back to bed. Emma sat there for a while and mused over the dreams. That was the strangest one yet, and now that she was calmer, and not sex-crazed anymore she analyzed it a little. She had been dreaming, that she was that version of herself she kept dreaming that she had been, and that version of herself had been having a very naughty dream about her, well her boyfriend, or employer, or captor, or what ever the hell he was to her, and then that version of herself had woken up before it ended. Then the dream had changed, and she was sitting there as Gold entered her room with the same intentions that her dream-friend Doctor Giggles had had about the dream version of herself. Both clearly set on seducing her, and both succeeded, or would have if she hadn't woken up when she had, damn it all! Couldn't she have finished one of the dreams, even if it had been that weird dream within a dream, she would have had some kind of, well, closure, among other things.
She sighed, and went back upstairs to write all of it down. These she would not be sharing with anyone, no matter what. Then she looked at the wreckage that had been her bedroom. She remade the bed. Damn, if a dream could do that then what would the real thing be like? She wondered then mentally kicked herself. No going down that road Emma, you'll never get any sleep, she thought, and then walked over to the mirror she'd broken.
She'd caught it with a strong right hook. It was cracked beyond repair, so cracked in fact that her reflection was distorted with all the spider web thin breaks. She knelt and picked up the one piece that she'd knocked loose and looked at it. Broken, just like her life. She was missing so many things it wasn't funny. She knew it was always said that you can't miss something you never had, but that was a lie. She missed her mother, and her father, and any other relations she might have had. And oh, did she miss Henry. Sometimes she just felt empty inside, hollow, like the biggest part of her was gone. Like she was the broken piece and the rest had just disappeared. She lay the shard of broken mirror on the dresser, and went to lay back down. Maybe if she counted sheep she'd bore herself to sleep. She hadn't tried that yet.
"One, two, three," she said closing her eyes and imagined cute fluffy sheep jumping over a fence. Then an odd random thought struck her. Sheep's wool repels water. Why had she thought of that? It was followed by the memory of twinkling eyes and a devilishly hot smile owned by the person that had imparted that knowledge to her. Then his voice came into her mind. 'Woolgathering dearie?' he'd asked her.
"Damn it to hell!" she swore and turned onto her side. She'd bet he wasn't having trouble sleeping. She'd like to give him some trouble sleeping! Part of her wanted to march right over to his very large house and pound on the door and when he answered flustered and half asleep, rape him senseless. She was fairly sure she could overpower him in her current state, and she'd make sure he'd love every hot second of it.
Sighing she closed her eyes, and tried to imagine the scene she'd been dreaming about before. She wasn't going to get any sleep, and she was going to hell in a hand-basket anyway, so what could a little bedtime fantasizing hurt? Not one frigging thing, that's what!
A/N I'm sorry, don't hurt me! :) She had to wake up, it was an important plot point I swear! Trust me I didn't want her to wake up either. From either one. I wrote her rant upon waking verbatim from my own ahem, episode, 'cept I hit a wall, not a mirror. Oh, and I didn't correct the word 'rumpeled' on purpose, cuz let's be honest, we all want to be rumpeled don't we? ;) I hope this chapter didn't confuse anyone, but if it did, sorry. Me brain be a scary place sometimes. :) Reviews are most welcome!
