A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Not much to say this time... so... I hope you enjoy and review! Thanks!

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

"Pssst! Hey... Rumpel. Wake up."

It's funny how people normally have the inclination to believe that no one has the right to be asleep if they themselves are up. They usually act like it's such a great accomplishment or that it's some sort of competition and deserve a trophy for the effort. There's nothing terribly wrong in that, if anything, more power to them. The self righteous early birds might complain a bit, maybe even throw the word 'lazy' around... and that's just fine. Their complaints actually give Rumpelstiltskin even more pleasure to sleep in and have breakfast while others were having lunch since he wasn't much of a morning person.

"I know you can hear me..." But no one should be allowed to be that cheerful in the mornings.

Rumpelstiltskin inhaled sharply and with tremendous effort, opened one eye. Fiona waved and flashed him a small grin in the semi-darkness. She looked good right at that very moment; flyaway wisps of her loose braid shimmering a copper halo with the weak moonlight... But not good enough. He was sleeping after all. With a faint yawn, he curled his knees up once more, and did a good impression of ignoring her.

"I know it's real late, but I'm here now," Fiona observed; such a clever woman. How did she do it? "You're pouting?"

"Isn't it nearly sunrise?" He whined, only proving Fiona's point further. Well, he wouldn't exactly call it pouting... but more of a... huh. Yeah, he just can't win with that woman. "I'm going back to sleep."

"A deal's a deal," Fiona's voice circled around him as she most likely set down the basket on the grass. "I brought you breakfast, so I get a story, no matter what hour it is."

Rumpelstiltskin had to bite back a smile at that. She was right, their deal was plainly simple yet painfully vague on the details. If you don't think to include every possible thing, there aren't any rules. He really should have written out all the terms to their agreement because it was starting to look like she was catching on. Since he didn't have a solid argument, not yet anyway, he reluctantly sat up.

"Thought you wouldn't show," Rumpelstiltskin mumbled as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "What was the hold up?"

As soon as he said that, he immediately regretted the question because if the answer had anything to do with bumping uglies with her husband, he seriously didn't want to hear about it. Bad enough he has to see them kiss everyday. Every so often, Shrek waltzes out in the morning with a smile that swallowed up his ears and Rumpelstiltskin hoped he was just easily excitable with a touch on the arm or the like. Shrek did happen to look like the type of guy to get worked up over a game of Go Fish so stuff like, "Got any four's?" would probably sound like dirty talk. After going so long without a woman, that happens to a guy.

But he didn't have any room to talk either; a game of Hangman would just about do him in too...

Fiona sparked the wick of the lantern, her face flickering in and out of the darkness before swimming into view with the steady glow of the flames. "Farkle's been so fussy teething, he took forever to go to bed. Then I had to wait for... well you know..."

He didn't know who the hell Farkle was, but it's relief either way. He'll be able to swallow down his meal without the fear of turning his stomach.

"Oh yeah?" He yawned with mild interest. Funny how she doesn't want to talk about how she's sneaking around behind her husbands back. Strange thing is, he wasn't sure if he should feel smug about that or not. Maybe a mixture of both. "We're not doing anything wrong, y'know..."

Fiona paused mid-stretch as she hung the lantern on a branch but otherwise didn't seem bothered by his statement. "I know... But Shrek wouldn't like how I'm spoiling a prisoner."

"That's not it," Rumpelstiltskin smirked sleepily. "It's payment, not spoiling. You and I both know he wouldn't want you chatting me up this much." And especially about her...

His unspoken words hung in the air and he knew she could see them plain as day. Rumpelstiltskin didn't kid himself with delusions of bravery, but he wasn't particularly scared of Shrek finding out. What more could he really do to him anyway? He's already suffered through the humiliation of defeat, but it wasn't enough (it's never enough, is it?). He had taken his freedom... his beloved Fifi... what else is left? Not even a scrap of dignity or let alone sanity. Shrek won. Talk about overkill, huh? So, he wasn't a bit scared if Shrek finds out. He doubted those beefy hands of his could even reach through the bars to strangle him anyway.

"He..." Fiona paused, brows furrowing together as she paused to pick over her words. "... he won't like it, no. But we'll work things out and he'll understand. He always does."

"Sure... he's a real understanding sorta guy," he snorted as he picked a hole at the knee of his sock. Any mention of that ogre puts him in a foul mood, and as his foul moods go, he felt the need to share it.

"Oh? Are you saying you do?" Now that's a loaded question...

Rumpelstiltskin gave her a snide smile. Shrek barely understood this woman at all. Doesn't deserve to; or perhaps doesn't even attempt to. Bastard had to have everything taken away from him just so he could appreciate what he had in the first place. How long have they been married already? Two years – if maybe that? He couldn't help but wonder what Shrek might do five years from now if he gets bored again with his idyllic life. You can't just pick up and go anytime it starts wearing thin on you. Marriage is just another contract after all.

"I understand you're lookin' around and everything's so bright and shiny, it doesn't feel real..." he paused to let that sink in with a grim smile. "It's so bright – that before y'know it, you're blind and ... complacent. I'd say hearing about her makes you feel... I dunno... like yo -"

"Don't even go there," Fiona cut him off so quietly, he wondered how he had even heard her. "There's nothing wrong with complacency. I'll admit it," she gave a faint nod with an old familiar, bitter smile. "I'm complacent, but not blind." That's possibly even worse.

He highly doubted her words but remained silent and ran a hand through his hair in indifference. She can go ahead and drown in it then. The other Fiona might have not been happy with her life, but at least her life held passion. He believed that true happiness doesn't last a life time. And how could it? It's not that he's pessimistic, no. Hardly that. It's just... without the hardships in life, how would you ever treasure the small moments where you were truly happy? You can't wish for happiness if you've never known sadness; it's foolish even to try. The most you can do is live it up while you still can, learn to love the stab of jealously in your throat, the blush of longing rise up your skin, recall every vivid detail as you plot revenge. Without envy, temptation, tragedy and blah blah – the whole shebang – the good things in life just wouldn't hold any weight. You would just carry on, listlessly smiling and nodding and going though the motions while in reality, you don't feel a thing.

It hardly makes any sense why anyone would actually want a happily ever after, doesn't it?The whole thing's just overrated anyway.

Fiona passed him a knife and fork with a sigh and he wondered if there was any real feeling into it or if it was just an automatic response. "I know we'll get caught – eventually – but not tonight."

"You'll 'get caught', you mean. I can't avoid you. I'm not doing anything you haven't asked for."

Fiona frowned at his obvious truth but passed him his food nonetheless. "Don't do air quotes, that just annoys people."

Rumpelstiltskin decided to just let the subject drop and glanced down at his plate to find that pancakes were on the menu. Out of curiosity, he tilted the mirror edge of the knife to catch the light and caught a small glimpse of his reflection. It had been far too long since the last time he's taken a look in a mirror and he was pleased to see that not much had changed in his appearance. His hair was a bit shaggier, his skin a bit pink from being beaten down by the summer sun and he could use a shave... but he still looked good.

Once upon a time, he dressed in the finest of clothes, threaded with gold trim and jewels sewed into the very fabric. He owned dozens of elegant wigs that were carefully styled just for any occasion and some just for the hell of it. Servants would dress him and keep his fine hands perfectly manicured and his skin flawless. He remembered the first day he looked in the mirror after such a makeover and hardly recognized himself. Instead of the scruffy carriage trash he had grown used to in the mirror, stood a man that could be admired and envied. Others would look at his wealth and wish to trade even just a few hours of their life with his. He had smiled at the rich man then; perhaps not a happy smile, but it satisfied him nonetheless. He wouldn't have to want for anything anymore.

Rumpelstiltskin smiled at his reflection now... and he found that was alright with what he saw. He didn't have any wigs or fine clothing, his nails were chipped and filthy, but... he had his life. He still had his youth. And he still had one hell of a smile when it was real. Gotta love that money maker.

"Tell me about your second meeting with Fiona," she said as she passed him a goblet of juice. "We only got a few hours till sunrise, so I want to hear everything."

"What makes you think we met again after the first time?" he said carefully as he dug in, his eyes trained on his plate.

They did meet of course, but he never mentioned it before. If he had to be completely honest with himself, Fiona's rebellious exploits were the only things he wanted to share. Everything else was... private. His... Quite suddenly, it looked like he'd have no other choice since he agreed to share 'everything' he knew of her. That's what happens when you forget about the details; there's nothing to fall back on to save you when you're drowning in your obligations. He really should have been more specific.

"Well... I know I wouldn't be satisfied with just being a pain," Fiona gave a small shrug of her shoulders, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Sure it helped the resistance, but I'd want to get your attention to come out that witch's nest and face me. Give you a piece of my mind or... try to make sense of you."

"That's kinda flattering," he chuckled down at his plate and took a few moments to work his way through a pancake before it got too soggy with syrup. Fiona frowned at him; obviously not amused with the way he kept stalling, and she looked so much like... like her... at that moment, it was almost eerie. Almost like her but... not quite. Her hair was all wrong; tied back and restrained. It was such a small little thing; not anything to get worked up over... but it bothered him. Much more then it should have.

"Alright," he took a sip from his goblet and rubbed his hands together, wondering where to begin. "After the whole pig thing, " it still hurt a bit, those were great wigs after all. "We went back and forth like that for awhile. She'd steal shipments, deface statues or posters of me, even tried forming a resistance with nearby villagers, but that wasn't much of a bright idea 'cause my witches caught wind of that fast and no one wanted to risk anything for a bunch of ogres." He took his time with a few more bites and Fiona rolled her eyes for him to go on.

"She'd push, and I'd push back with more raids, more hunting parties, more gold as a reward for every ogre brought in. And as luck would have it, my witches caught someone..."

Other then the last night he had spent as king, the day he met Fiona for the second time had to have been the longest he's went without sleep...

It had been a long night and he hadn't had a chance to rest at all. He should be trying to sleep right now since there's nothing he was exactly needed for at the moment, but despite being so physically exhausted, he knew he couldn't even if he tried. Thoughts kept racing through his mind; scurrying like ants pouring out of an anthill and nothing could stem the flow. Details of the night kept streaming into his mind and despite his best efforts, he kept going over everything to make sense of the patterns and predict what his opponent will do. Because that's what you do when you want to outsmart an enemy; stay five steps ahead and comb over every single thing. If you don't think of every possible outcome, you just end up sitting around with your thumb up your ass, playing fortunes fool.

And that's exactly what he's doing right now... 'cause how can you predict the unpredictable?

Fiona was about as predictable as a hurricane and sometimes, he was nothing more then a kite caught in the wind; only able to react and never be the one to land the first blow. Weeks would go by and there'd be little to no activity in the resistance, at least as far as his spies knew, and then out of nowhere she'd catch him off guard with a raid or a prison break to free the ogres. Their camp seemed to always be on the move from one week to the next so actually pinning a location to their whereabouts was like playing a game of five-finger fillet blindfolded.

But last night, he had struck gold. By an amusing twist of fate, his witches had found their encampment on the move from one of their random searches. The ogres were traveling under the cover of darkness (not surprising since Fiona herself operated solely at night) and his witches poured down upon them like vengeful harpies. He had been told it was quite an epic battle and that nearly two dozen were captured, quite the blow since the resistance couldn't afford to lose so many. What had really had him going was that out of the many ogres that were enchained... one of them happened to be female. If that wasn't luck, he didn't know what was. He had practically skipped with joy at the prospect of having a good laugh at Fiona behind the bars of her cage, but had skidded to a halt instead when his eyes landed on the only obvious female in the dungeons.

Three thoughts had ran through his mind all at once so quickly, he had to actually give his head a little shake to make sense of what he was seeing. Fiona had either shrunk considerably (and turned all kinds of ugly) since he's last seen her, or Rumpelstiltskin must have grown a bit taller. Since neither seemed likely, it could only mean one thing:

"That's not Fiona," he had said as patiently as he could to Griselda who's self-satisfied smile slid off her face in an instant. "That's an ogre kid. What use do I have with snot-nosed brats?"

Griselda's reply was lost in the shouts and banging that rung through the cages as he stomped his foot down angrily and continued his rant. "Gee – I've got an idea! Why don't we just go find the mother to complete the set, huh? Better yet – let's just start an ogre day care program while we're at it!" Rumpelstiltskin took in a deep breath as took off his wig and combed his fingers through his hair. "Just... just get that kid out of here."

"Y-you're letting this one go?" Griselda had said with a look that plainly questioned his sanity; her words sounding oddly loud in the hallway despite the many echoing voices.

He had given her a look that questioned her sanity because right at that moment, questioning his orders was just plain stupidity. "Am I gonna have to send you out on patrol on a rainy day or are you just gonna shut up and do as I say?" Seriously, he had no use for kids. They weren't any good for manual labor and keeping them locked up just takes up space.

"Yes, Mr. Stiltskin," came her swift reply and she hurried to follow his orders.

After the ogre girl was collared and taken out, the real work began. Needless to say, the remaining ogres didn't just hang around all night in relative ease. Nor were they politely interviewed over the whereabouts of Fiona or what the resistance was planning next. Rumpelstiltskin could only withstand so much screaming before developing a headache and left shortly after, letting the witches have their fun. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning did Baba give him the news that none of them were talking and he given the order to give them a rest before putting them to work somewhere. It didn't really matter to him after that point where they go. Hunting ogres was basically a farce to capture Shrek when he appears anyway.

Up in his bedchamber, he felt so restless, he decided to take a walk to wear himself out in the castle's gardens. It perhaps wasn't the best idea after what went down during the night, but it wasn't Fiona's style to strike while the iron's still hot. He doubted she even had the gall to get around in daylight anyway. Since he's hated by most of the populace, he's made it a point to not leave the castle grounds very often and if he did, he's always surrounded by plenty of witches to take care of things just in case anyone got the wild hair up their ass to do something stupid. Since he was just going to be bascially in his own backyard, he didn't bother with an escort. He wanted to relax, not be constantly reminded of the worthless idiots that surround him at all times. And so, he left without a word, hoping no one would find him for a while.

He must have been so deep in thought, wandering around the empty gardens, that it was a surprise to find the creeping warmth of the sunrise as it exhaled over the horizon. Brilliant golds, oranges and pinks slowly raked through the skies, ebbing away the darkness and he could safely say that he couldn't recall ever seeing the sunrise before. He seriously had to get some sleep if he wanted to get anything done at all today. With a luxurious yawn, he sat up from the marble bench he was laying on and stret-

"Good morning, Stiltskin," said a cool voice behind him and he very nearly fell off the bench in surprise. Regaining his composure quickly and on the verge of spitting some insult or the like, he turned and found no one other than the very focus of his thoughts all night; hand on the pummel of her sword.

Rumpelstiltskin gulped down a momentary prang of panic and tried his best to look nonchalant as he slowly stood up and looked around for an escape route. "Huh...This isn't where I parked my goose..." he squinted against the rising sun.

"Good. We can walk then," Fiona said pleasantly enough as her hand snaked out, catching the back of his collar before he could get away... not that he seriously could get very far; dinky legs and all.

This was the exact moment where he was convinced that nothing good ever came from being up early.