CHAPTER 10

For the next few days Mr. Gold managed to avoid Amy. He would look in on her in the morning when he rose, but she was always still sleeping when he poked his head in, which was his intention. For the first time in months, he took to staying at the shop as late as possible, often arriving home close to midnight. He always called to say he was going to be late, but he called the house phone and Ruby or Ashley was usually the one who answered. Each assured him they didn't mind staying with Amy until he got home. Most of the time Amy was asleep again by the time he made it home, which again was intentional on his part. If she did happen to be awake he would poke his head in long enough for a quick hello, then excuse himself to retire for the night.

This system worked for a few days. Then a night came when he had to come home at the regular time, as Ashley had to go to her second job at the bowling alley and there would be no one to stay with Amy. Uncomfortable as the prospect was of spending the evening with the girl he had practically made love to, he couldn't leave her alone. So, reluctantly, he closed the pawnshop at the usual hour and went home to face what he knew would be an awkward evening.

He needn't have worried. Amy greeted him that night with the words, "Look, let's just pretend it never happened, all right?"

Gold couldn't decide whether to be relieved or disappointed at her statement. On the one hand, he was relieved that she wasn't going to insist on a long discussion of the events of that night. On the other hand, he was disappointed because he believed Amy, too, must have realized their encounter had been a terrible mistake.

But that wasn't the case. "I don't regret what happened," she continued, "but I know you do. And I don't like this weirdness between us. I miss spending time with you. I miss our…friendship."

"So do I," he admitted. The admission, which would have been unthinkable to him even a few weeks ago, came easily.

"So let's just move on," she said. "Like I said, it never happened. I can live with that, if you can. But Mr. Gold…" she paused.

"Yes, dear?" he asked, feeling comfortable enough now to stop hovering in the doorway and come into the room.

She seemed to be choosing her next words carefully. "If you ever change your mind about…us…if you ever decide you do want…something more…well, I could live with that too." These last words were said in a rush, as if she had to get them out before she lost her nerve.

He nodded gravely. "Understood," he said in a voice just as solemn as his expression. But deep inside him, the tiniest spark of hope flamed.

After that, each of them did an admirable job of pretending their passionate episode had never occurred. They swiftly fell back into their old routine. Mr. Gold excused himself to whip up a quick stir-fry. He had bought the chicken and vegetables pre-sliced, so it was ready in half an hour. While the meat and veggies sautéed he cooked a pot of rice. When the meal was done, he made up two plates and carried them back to the suite, just as he had done for the past several weeks until…a few nights ago.

As they ate he filled Amy in on the latest happenings in Storybrooke. The big news was that Emma Swan was running for Sheriff. Regina had planned to put Sidney Glass in the position, and had gone so far as to tell Emma as much. It was implicitly understood that his first act as Sheriff would be to fire Emma as his deputy. Emma had been despondent, seemingly thwarted by the Mayor at last, until she happened to take a look at the town charter (Mr. Gold made no mention of the fact that he had actually taken the town charter to the apartment she still shared with Miss Blanchard). The town charter clearly stated that in the event of the acting Sheriff's resignation or death, a new Sheriff was to be elected by the townspeople; the mayor could merely appoint a candidate. The upshot of this was that Emma was now running against Sidney Glass for the office.

Amy was delighted. "Emma will be a better sheriff than Sidney Glass could ever dream of being," she said. "She knows the business, after all, and all Sidney knows is reporting. Besides, it will be good for the town to have a sheriff who isn't in the mayor's pocket." Her eyes darkened. "I just hope she wins. I know people like her, but I'm sure Mayor Mills will try to bully people into voting for Sidney. She'll probably succeed, too."

Prudently, Gold decided not to tell her of his plans to ensure that the townsfolk would vote for Emma Swan for their new Sheriff. He did tell her that he was sponsoring Emma's campaign. "Her benefactor," he called himself. Amy saw nothing ominous in this. After all, he had already become her benefactor, and so far he had asked for nothing in return. Had she known of the plans Mr. Gold had originally conceived for her baby when he took her in, she would have seen a far more sinister meaning in the term.

As the evening wore on, she asked him again about his progress in locating an adoptive family. He was vague as always: "I haven't found anyone suitable yet."

She was unusually persistent. "The attorneys haven't sent you anyone?"

"They've sent me a few…candidates," he admitted, "but I could tell by reading their files that they weren't anyone you'd want to consider." This was the truth as far as it went. Of the files he had received, one childless couple had specifically wanted a boy. Another couple had wanted to pretend the child was their own, with the wife even planning to simulate a pregnancy. Still another couple had wanted a complete history of both the mother and father of the baby. He briefly told her about these three, omitting the dozen or so other dossiers he'd received that she likely would have been interested in.

At first he hadn't been sure why he was so reluctant to find a suitable set of parents for Amy's child; after all, that had been his plan from the beginning. But he found himself dismissing even the promising information he was given, often for silly reasons: "The husband is allergic to most animals. A child should grow up in a home with pets." For a time he hadn't understood his own motivations, something that had never happened to him before. Finally, though, his motivations had become clear to him, or rather he had allowed them to become clear to him.

Oddly enough, it was Regina Mills who had torn the blinders from his eyes. When she learned of his role in Emma Swan's decision to run for Sheriff, she had come to his shop in a rage. He had told Amy of the earlier part of their conversation, and she had chortled with glee at the thought of the mayor "all beshit and forty miles from water" (as Mrs. Woods had been known to describe someone in a fit of anger). But, as he often did, he had kept a certain part of their exchange to himself.

"Regina," he had said with a bland smile as the mayor stormed into his shop. He wasn't surprised to see her, nor was he surprised when she flipped the sign on the door from "Open" to "Closed". He'd been expecting this little visit; had been looking forward to it, in fact. "Shall I move some things, make a better space for your rage?" he queried, thoroughly enjoying the rage that radiated from the attractive mayor.

She wasn't amused. "You found that loophole in the town charter," she stated, moving with long, furious strides to the counter behind which he stood.

"Legal documents," he pointed out as he moved from his space behind the counter. "Contracts, if you like. Always been a fascination of mine."

"Yes, you love to trifle with technicalities," Regina shot back.

He smiled again. "I like small weapons, you see. "The needle…the pen…the fine point of the deal. Subtlety. Not your style, I know."

She had been perusing the items in one of his glass display counters; now she whipped her head to glare at him. "You're a bastard," she snarled.

He gave a quiet chuckle. "I think your grief's getting the better of you, Regina," he announced. He was the only person in town who dared to call her by her first name instead of her official title. She had never realized until now how much she hated this. "Shame what happened to Graham," he continued. It was a shot in the dark; he knew this, but she couldn't be sure.

She faced him fully then, those dark eyes glinting dangerously. "Don't you talk about him," she said in a low, threatening tone. "You know nothing."

Her reaction told him what he needed to know: that she had indeed had a hand in the young Sheriff's untimely demise. How had she managed it, he wondered dispassionately. Some sort of fast-acting, untraceable poison, maybe? He filed the knowledge away for later contemplation. For the moment there were other pressing matters at hand.

He forced himself to shrug nonchalantly. "What is there to know? He died."

She leaned against the counter behind which he now stood. "Are you really going up against me?" she asked. There was a hint of incredulity in her tone.

"Not directly," he answered with that infuriating bland smile. "We are, after all, both invested in the common good. We're just picking different sides."

Her reply was swift: "Well, I think you picked a really slow horse this time." She paused before her next verbal thrust: "Not like you to back a loser."

"She hasn't lost yet," he responded, still maddeningly calm.

Regina was suddenly airy. "She will," she predicted.

Gold gave a little verbal thrust of his own. The sentence was slow and deliberate: "Never underestimate someone who's acting for their child."

His words had the intended effect. The mayor jerked back as if slapped. "He's not her child," she snapped.

"Ohh," Gold breathed. "Now who's trifling with technicalities?"

She glared at him murderously for a moment. If looks could kill, he thought idly, he'd be expiring on the floor of his shop right now. Then her expression suddenly changed, becoming friendly. He was immediately on guard, but still didn't expect her next words.

"How is dear Amy?" she asked.

Gold was momentarily flummoxed. "What?" he asked stupidly.

She smiled, triumphant. "All this talk of deals and children," she said. "It naturally put me in mind of poor Amy and her situation. Tell me, have you managed to talk her into signing a contract yet?"

He decided to play dumb for as long as he could. "A contract?" he asked. "Why, whatever do you mean, Regina?"

Her e yes narrowed just the slightest bit. "You know what I mean," she replied, her tone still deceptively light. "Have you talked her into handing her child over to the 'right set' of adoptive parents…in return for a substantial sum?"

Gold nearly blanched. Only with a tremendous amount of willpower did he manage to refrain from doing so. "I'm not sure I understand," he said. "Amy is planning to give her child up for adoption, yes…but do you really think she could be so crass as to sell the baby?"

"Of course not," Regina purred. "That girl would never dream of doing such a thing…but you would."

"What sort of accusations are you trying to make now, Regina?" he asked. He hoped, prayed, she couldn't hear the sudden thumping of his heart.

Now her smile was smug. "I have my eyes and ears around town, Mr. Gold," she announced. "I know how you kindly offered to help Amy Miller find a good home for her baby. A real Good Samaritan, you are. However, knowing what I do of your…past actions, I can't help being concerned that the poor thing has no idea of what she's gotten herself into."

He said nothing. He wouldn't dignify her insinuations with a response, however true they happened to be.

Her smile widened. "I also hear you're apparently going about it in a somewhat legal manner this time," she went on. "Very impressive. But I suppose you had no choice, did you? We both know that girl is no fool. If she even suspected there was something…not quite kosher…afoot, she would end things immediately."

He strived to keep his tone complacent. "Are you threatening me, Regina?"

"Why, certainly not, Mr. Gold," she said silkily. "I'm merely concerned. I have a real fondness for the girl. I know her rather well, you know. She used to babysit Henry." The mayor's smile grew colder, sharper. "Have you told her how you…arranged for me to adopt Henry?"

Gold fought to keep his voice steady. "No, I have not," he said evenly.

She laughed. "Of course you haven't. She never would have accepted your help if she knew you were the one who brought Henry to me. I'm well aware of what she thinks of me and my abilities as a mother. But, Mr. Gold, what would she think of you if she knew you were the one responsible for my being a mother?"

"You won't tell her," he said, this time not entirely able to keep the emotion out of his voice.

"Oh, won't I?" she laughed, savoring her newfound power over him.

But she had forgotten his power over her—the power he didn't entirely understand, but utilized nonetheless. "You won't," he repeated firmly, "because I'm asking you…please…don't tell her."

Her gaze darkened. For a moment, he was sure she would leap across the counter and throttle him with her bare hands. Then—with an effort only he would have noticed—she relaxed.

"I won't tell her," she agreed. "What purpose would it serve? It would only keep that baby from being placed in her rightful home."

"What do you know about the baby's rightful home?" he snapped before he could stop himself.

Her smile turned from smug to winsome in an eye blink. "I've been thinking," she said, in a tone that would have sounded casual to anyone else. "I've been thinking that Henry really needs a sibling."

His response was as vehement as it was instantaneous. "Absolutely not."

She feigned innocence. "Why ever not?" she asked. "It's the perfect solution. The baby would have a fine home. She would have everything that money could buy…she would have a real family. You know Henry would adore her. He used to ask me all the time for a baby brother or sister."

"I will never give that baby to you," he reaffirmed, enunciating each word precisely.

"Because Amy would find out?" she asked. "She doesn't have to, you know. If she were to leave Storybrooke as soon as the baby was born…"

"And how would that be possible?" he retorted with evident scorn. "You know as well as I do that no one leaves Storybrooke."

"That's true," she acknowledged. "No one leaves Storybrooke." Her smile grew smug once again. "But they could...if I wished it so."

For just a moment he considered this. Amy would be able to leave. She could go to Boston, or anywhere else she wanted. She would be able to have a life far from this insane place, believing her baby was being brought up in a well-to-do, loving home.

Then he realized just what it was he was contemplating…handing over yet another child to the cold, cruel Regina Mills…and he stiffened with resolve. "Forget it, dear," he said firmly. "I will never give you that baby, no matter what the circumstances."

Her dark eyes bored into his. He found himself unable to look away. Perhaps, he thought insanely as the woman's eyes seemed to penetrate his very soul, young Henry was right about the woman. Perhaps she was a witch…or an evil queen…or both.

She giggled suddenly, a high-pitched, artificial trill. "Oh, I see," she said. "You want the baby for yourself!"

"That's ridiculous," he said smoothly.

But she saw right through the lie. "So the town boogeyman wants a child of his own," she sneered. "The fearsome Mr. Gold wants someone to look up to him and love him. Isn't that precious." She smirked. "But how on earth would you accomplish that, Mr. Gold? After all, there are limits to your power. Amy would know. Of course I wouldn't need to let her leave Storybrooke if I wasn't the one adopting the child. She would definitely notice that there was a new baby in your home, just as she was giving up her own baby. Do you honestly think she would allow her child to be raised by an old, deceitful cripple?"

He simply glared, praying to a God he didn't even believe in that she wouldn't guess the truth underneath the truth.

But God was not on his side, it seemed. Regina let out a positive cackle as she came to the inevitable realization. "Oh, my God!" she gasped. "You don't just want the child…you want the mother, too, don't you?" Already knowing the answer, she went on. "You actually think that girl would stay with you? That she would raise her child with you, Adam and Eve and baby makes three in a Georgian estate? Oh, it would be funny if it weren't so pathetic!"

Gold went deathly still. "I fail to see the humor or pathos, Regina," he said calmly. "To answer your question, yes, I do believe Amy would consent to stay with me and raise her child."

"Oh, I'm sure she would," Regina chuckled, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "Probably even marry you, if you made the right threat or offered the right amount. She might even force herself to sleep with you, if the monetary offer was particularly generous. But would she ever love you?"

"Yes!" he wanted to shout. "She loves me already, you heartless, insignificant wretch! And as far as sleeping with me goes, she was more than ready to do so the other night with no promise of monetary gain!" But he said nothing. He didn't want to give her any more leverage, for one thing. Also, though he suspected Amy's feelings for him were genuine, that her desire had likewise been authentic, he still couldn't be entirely sure.

Perhaps God was on his side after all, for Regina took his silence as defeat. "Oh, you poor man," she said. "You think less of me for taking what I can get, but you're no different. At least I know the difference between real love and a good acting job. Furthermore, I still have a chance for real love; I'm young and beautiful, after all. What chance do you have?"

He dropped his head, knowing she would interpret it as another sign of defeat, when he was actually trying to hide the murder he knew was reflected in his chocolate orbs.

"But let me be the first to wish you happiness with your new…paramour and child," she said, finally, thankfully turning to leave. "Well, maybe not true happiness, but the best imitation money can buy." Her laughter rang in his ears as she exited the shop.

Once the door shut behind her, he finally relaxed his fists. His nails, though short, had carved bloody half-moons in his palms with the force of his clenching. Briefly, he hoped Emma would do the sensible thing and run like hell, rather than doing the noble thing he had anticipated and running back into the inferno to rescue Regina. Leaving the witch to burn would garner her as many, if not more, votes than rescuing her, and it would bring him a great deal more of personal satisfaction.

In his retelling, he ended the mayor's visit with his own line, "Now who's trifling with technicalities?" In his Amy-less revision, the mayor had stormed out angrily after he delivered this line. He hadn't exactly lied, he told himself. Rather, he had only kept part of the truth hidden. Just as he had always done where Amy was concerned…just as he had always done with most anyone who was desperate enough to make a deal with him. It did not escape him that he had never flat-out lied to anyone. He was a poor liar, as he had ascertained during his confrontation with Regina. But one could refrain from telling the whole truth without being actually lying.

Amy loved it, as he had known she would. "Oh, I wish I could have seen it," she bubbled when he finished his edited tale. "If I could have been a fly on the wall…"

Gold smiled thinly. Thank God you weren't, my dear, he thought to himself.

…

The fire at City Hall occurred the next day. As with the mine incident, Amy wasn't informed until all parties involved were deemed safe and sound. One day, Gold promised himself, one day when he knew she would understand, he would tell her the whole story. But for now it was best that she didn't know. She knew the building was being renovated; she accepted his explanation that "flammable materials" left lying about by the construction workers were the cause of the conflagration. He didn't tell her that Emma had figured out the true cause of the fire almost immediately, and had confronted him forthwith.

Forty-eight hours after that, Emma Swan was officially the new Sheriff of Storybrooke. She had won the election in a landslide, just as he had planned…not for her bravery during the fire, but for her confession during the public debate that it had been started by him, albeit without her knowledge.

He was slightly nervous that Amy would find out about his (alleged) role in the fire, but planned to explain it away by telling her of Miss Swan's instinctive distrust of him. "I'm afraid she sees me the way the rest of the town does," he would say. He was fairly certain that she would buy this, also. Though he loved her, he was still the devious businessman, and wasn't above exploiting her naïveté and idealism. He told himself that, as long as he planned to come clean to her eventually, it was all right not to tell her the whole truth for now.

However, it turned out not to be a problem. The scant handful of people Amy still had regular contact with—Ruby, Granny, and Ashley—had decided amongst themselves not to tell Amy about Emma's accusation. They knew that doing so would only upset her as well as inciting Mr. Gold's wrath. If Amy hadn't been in such a fragile state, they would have risked it, they agreed. But the way things stood, informing her of what had really happened would only do more harm than good.

All by herself, the new Sheriff Swan reached the same conclusion. Only moments after Gold had left the station following his "confession" and congratulatory speech, the phone on her new desk had rung.

"Hey, Sheriff!" the voice on the other end had chirped.

Emma had known immediately who the caller was. "Hey, Amy,' she had replied, a trifle warily. Could the girl possibly know what Mr. Gold had done?

"I just called to congratulate you," Amy said cheerily, oblivious to the thoughts in the new sheriff's mind. "I wish I could have been at the debate and the election, but Mr. Gold and Doc absolutely forbade it. I'm so proud of you, though! I knew the people would make the right decision!"

No, Emma realized. The girl had no inkling of how Mr. Gold had rigged the election in his own inimitable style. For a second, Emma toyed with telling the younger woman just how she had won the election.

Just as quickly as the idea had come she dismissed it. Amy was in the middle of a dangerous pregnancy. The slightest emotional shock could send her into labor, and finding out what Mr. Gold had done would not count as a "slight" shock by any means. Though Emma feared, mistrusted, and flat-out loathed Mr. Gold, she liked Amy. She had no desire to cause her harm in any way. Soon enough, she suspected, Amy would see Mr. Gold for what he truly was. When and if that happened, Emma would be there for her. But she saw no point in hurrying along the inevitable, especially when it could put Amy's life and that of her baby in jeopardy.

So she forced herself to accept Amy's congratulations cheerfully enough. Amy heard the sadness underlying her tone, but she naturally believed Graham was the cause. "He'd be proud of you, too, you know," Amy said softly during the brief conversation.

Emma swallowed hard. She had managed not to think of Graham too much during the election, but Amy's well-meaning words had brought him back. Suddenly he was there in the office with her, the office where he had so recently breathed his last. "I am proud of you," she imagined him saying. "Give Regina hell for me, will you?"

She choked back a sob. "Thanks," she told Amy. "I hope he would be." She waited a beat before saying, "Oh, shit. The scanner just went off. Looks like I've got a public intoxication on Main Street."

On the other end, Amy laughed. "Ten to one it's Leroy Brown," she said. "I think he's the only one in town who ever gets arrested for PI…or DUI…or anything involving the letter I."

"With a name like Leroy Brown, can you blame him?" Emma quipped, and was rewarded with a chuckle.

"Well, I'll let you get off and go do your job," Amy said. "Congratulations, again. Hope Leroy isn't too surly."

"Thanks Amy," Emma said. "I'll try to come visit before too long." As soon as the words were out she regretted them. Lying to Amy over the phone was one thing, but how would she ever manage to do it to her face?

I will tell her the truth, though, she vowed to herself as she hung up the phone. Once she has the baby, once she's not in danger anymore, I'll tell her everything. And if I ever have the slightest hint that Mr. Gold is planning to hurt her in some way, I'll tell her sooner.

She didn't think it would happen, though. Though she didn't trust Mr. Gold as far as she could throw him—with an anvil tied on for good measure—she had to admit his intentions towards Amy seemed honorable. If she didn't know better, Emma mused, she would think he truly loved the girl. The few times Emma had seen them together, he had been most protective and solicitous of her. And Emma, who could spot a liar at twenty paces, knew the emotions were genuine. He definitely felt something for Amy. Maybe it wasn't the healthiest dynamic for a loving relationship, maybe it wasn't even love, but still…it was something.

Across town, Regina smiled. Though Gold had managed to thwart her scheme of installing Sidney in the sheriff's department and uninstalling Emma, he had unwittingly given her the tools for her revenge in the same stroke. If she could convince the Swan bitch that the pawnbroker had sinister designs on Amy, she could make him pay. And Regina knew exactly how she could convince the new sheriff of this.

Gold had made her promise she wouldn't tell Amy of his role in her adoption of Henry, he had never made her promise she wouldn't tell anyone else.

With a truly wicked smile marring her attractive features, Regina crossed her study, her destination being the sideboard which held her decanter of homemade hard apple cider. She poured several finger into a squat crystal glass and downed them quickly, then poured several more fingers and downed them with equal haste. The alcohol didn't affect her in the slightest—witches had a high tolerance for mind-altering substances—but she knew how to act as if she were well and truly inebriated. Gazing into the mirror above the sideboard, she mussed her perfectly arranged hair. She forced her eyes to unfocus and her mouth to slacken. Yes, that would do nicely. Satisfied with her sudden transformation into a drunken sot, she picked up her cell and pressed a single button.

"Sheriff Swan?" she slurred when Emma answered. "Sheriff Swan…get your ass over here. You know who this is. I need…I need to talk t'you. Need to tell you something…something 'bout Henry."

Over Emma's startled squawks, she hung up. That should do the trick, she knew. She would have another couple of drinks while she waited for the Sheriff to arrive, just in case. But she had no doubt that her plan would go swimmingly. Just as she intended. It was time to show Gold who was really in control of this town.

Smiling at her reflection—no longer seeing the disheveled mayor, but instead the beautiful, invincible Queen she had once been, and still was if only in her own mind—Regina settled in to wait.

(Cue ominous music) Duh duh DUH!

As I mentioned in the last chapter, we have officially entered the land of the Alternate Universe. Although I adored last week's episode just as much as I thought I would—and even choked up at a couple of moments—I already had this story finished in my head from about the fourth episode on. If Belle were truly dead, and not locked in some sort of mental ward-slash-dungeon, I might try to incorporate "Skin Deep". But in my version of events, Gold loves Amy and Amy alone, and Belle's return would play all kinds of havoc with that. Can't bring myself to kill off my favorite Disney princess, so I'm just going to pretend she never existed. My story isn't exactly "Beauty and the Beast", but there are some elements of it contained within, as well as some elements of the original Rumpelstiltskin story that will come out later. So all Rumbelle fans be forewarned: though I'll try to keep as much of the story as possible in canon, "Skin Deep" never happened in my version of Storybrooke. (Which also means that Mr. Sexypants—ahem, I mean Mr. Gold—still isn't aware of his true identity, though he definitely suspects something is up at this point.)

Coming up next chapter: a confrontation. Amy Miller leaves the realm of "perilously-close-to-Mary-Sue-dom" hopefully forever. I worried early on that she was just too damn sweet and compliant, with almost none of the spirit and fire that would make a man like Mr. Gold/Rumple fall for her. Then I watched an interview with Ginnifer Goodwin and Sexiest Man Alive Robert Carlyle (I know he isn't officially, but that's a travesty on People magazine's part) where Ginnifer said that the Evil Queen left only the weaker aspects of people's personalities intact when she enacted the curse. That made sense to me. As the story progressed, some of Amy's mischievousness and high spirits did come out (the horse doody incident, for example), and I realized that the true Amy was not a spineless crybaby like her Storybrooke counterpart is sometimes in danger of being. The piss-and-vinegar side of her will come out next chapter, when she confronts Mr. Gold about his nefarious schemes.

To observe the Golden Rule of CYA, I will state again that only my original characters belong to me. I don't suppose my storylines can truly be called my own since they contain characters owned by ABC and others, so we won't go there.

I love my readers and simply worship my reviewers! Someday I will make myself write a few reviews of my own. I have a week off coming up about a month from now, so I will make that one of my goals for my staycation. But never fear, I'll update this little tale long before that. TTFN!