Title: Vengeance, Sacrifice, and Forgiveness
Author: AoN
Word Count: 5,000
Genre: Drama, Adventure
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Please and thank you! Let me know what I'm doing right or doing wrong.
Summary: With the Evil Queen's curse weakening and Regina struggling to keep Storybrooke under control, hidden secrets and lies from long ago are beginning to surface – and they want their happily ever after.
Chapter Twenty Two
It was a sight she had not been expecting and one that would have summoned a slew of extremely different emotions had it only been less than twenty four hours prior: the black Mercedes parked outside, in front of Gold's Pawn Shop.
Doing little to hide her evident confusion, Lucy drew back once more, hiding behind one of the pallets of lumber of the construction site just across the street from the shop. She had watched, from a distance, the car pulled up, park, and Regina emerge. Lucy had ducked into her hiding spot, but was certain Regina had disappeared into the shop. Lucy had vaguely made out two silhouettes in the store front window moving about.
Oh, what she would give to be a fly on the wall inside that shop right now and overhear the conversation within. All Lucy could do out here in the rather cold, frigid morning atmosphere was speculate and wonder, shaking and shivering in her still damp clothes. She wondered just how much each party knew, how much they kept hidden from each other. What would they have to say to one another, especially with the history that they shared?
Too many questions were clouding her mind, causing her to begin to doubt what she came here to do. Closing her eyes, Lucy tilted her head back, resting it against the wall of stacked lumber as she took a couple of deep breathes. She tried to stop quivering, but the wet clothes and dark hair that stuck to her skin made it nearly impossible.
Relax. Stay calm.
Do not jump to conclusions. Not until-
Her eyes sprang open and every single muscle in her entire body tensed as she felt a hand rest upon her shoulder. When she was met with that writer's smug, boyish smirk, Lucy's shoulders fell and she shrugged his hand off her. Her own hand balled up into a fist before she slugged him hard in the forearm out of petty revenge. To her dismay, August did not budge. Lucy, however, tucked her fist against her stomach as she hunched forward over it.
"What the hell?" she winced as her knuckles screamed out in pain. Did she split them open? She hoped not. "Are you made of stone or something?"
"A type of oak, actually," August replied in all seriousness, not missing a beat. "I have to say, though, that's a good swing you have there."
Lucy stood up straight, shaking her hand in an attempt to get rid of the already dulling pain. No, she had not split her knuckles open. Good, but that did not change the fact that it had hurt. "Being a writer wasn't your only secret then," she remarked. "What, you're also half tree?"
"Not exactly half-"
"No, but getting there, right?" Lucy retorted. "The smell you're giving off could bring down an entire-"
"Hey, now, I take offense," August scoffed. "I don't smell."
"Trust me, you do," Lucy reassured, wrinkling her nose as she waved her good hand in front of it. "It's a disgusting mix of rotting flesh and rotting wood – and I'm unfortunately pretty familiar with both."
"Your senses are heightened too, I take it?" August questioned.
"Since I haven't been able to fully transform, yeah," Lucy answered. "Not like Ruby's – her senses are heightened all the time."
"She hasn't said a word about it."
"Well, she's generally nicer than me, so…"
"Generally?" August repeated, turning his head slightly as his eyebrows rose.
Lucy sighed heavily as she peeked around the pallet once more. The Mercedes was still parked in front of the shop. There had been no changes, aching bones aside. "Let's just say you were right about friends and secrets," she said, turning back to August who was still watching the shop. She frowned slightly, eyes narrowing.
"She kept something else from you?" he asked, finally tearing his eyes away to finally look back at her. He matched her frown upon witnessing the stern glare that he did not believe to have earned.
"No, I from her," Lucy corrected, still glaring. "What are you doing out here anyway? Hanging out in a construction site, that's pretty odd."
August shook his head. "No, I think that's my question to ask considering that I'm the one who found you here – not the other way around," he replied. "But I'm fairly certain that I already know the answer."
"If you're about to feed me more crap about secrets, I just may willingly punch you again," she warned.
"You're after Rumpelstilskin as well," August stated firmly.
For once in their conversation, no smart remark was thrown back in return. Lucy set her jaw and her lips thinned as she watched August carefully. He was watching her equally so, for any sort of reaction, but they both were masking any sort of emotion. He knew he hit the nail on the head. He was right; he read her like an open book.
"I won't ask why as long as you grant me the same courtesy," August continued. "Even if we're here for very different reasons, I think we can help each other out."
"And how do I know this isn't some sort of trap?" Lucy inquired. Given her streak of luck, it was a necessary question.
"You don't," August replied honestly with a small shrug of the shoulders. "But I also think you don't really have a lot of options either. Rumpelstilskin is not someone you want to go up against alone. Come on. I'll scratch your back if you scratch mine."
"Says the walking wooden post. I have no reason to believe you won't go ahead and stab me in the back – let alone scratch it," Lucy pointed out. "A good friend of mine just tried to track me down. I'm not really in the business of trusting anyone right now."
August stood a little taller, straighter. "I give you my word," he vowed, growing extremely serious. "As a writer, I take them very seriously."
He extended his hand towards her. Lucy watched him, eyes narrowed, for a moment before reaching out and taking his hand. They shook.
"I need to have a little chat with him," Lucy revealed.
"Well, good, I need a little distraction," August said, pulling his hand back. "How long do you think this little chat of yours will go on for? Do you think you can keep him talking?" he asked, unwrapping the deep purple scarf that had been snug against his neck. Holding it out towards her earned him a perplexed stare, but Lucy quickly understood the gesture.
"A few minutes maybe," she answered, taking the scarf to hide the necklace. "Can you work with that?"
"Not exactly what I would call my ideal situation," August admitted. "But I can work with it," he reassured, knowing full well that now was not the time to be peaky. Upon hearing the a car coming to life, both of them peeked around the pallet again, just in time to see the Mercedes pull away.
"Good timing," he said. "We're up."
Lucy lingered in her spot until the Mercedes rounded the corner, not wanting to risk being seen, before crossing the street to the pawn shop. The close sign still hung from the door, but it had not been by the proprietor as Lucy had witnessed. Ignoring the sign, she pushed the door open, causing a small collection of bells to jingle almost in unison, announcing her arrival. She stepped inside the currently empty shop. The trinkets all along the shelves and within the glass cases were commanding her attention, begging to be looked at. A familiar aroma filled the air, making her feel at home for a fleeting second, just until she reminded herself why she was here.
Taking another step forward, Lucy's eyebrows furrowed. Something was pulling her, wanting her to come closer. Lucy walked over to the small glass case to the left which contained various pieces of jewelry: necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and rings of all precious metals with an array of different stones. One ring in particular, of a very simple design, however, caught and won her attention. It was a cloudy silver color, dull. The metal had been twisted and no fancy jewels decorated it.
"How may I help you?"
Quickly turning around, Lucy stepped away from the glass case that she had been observing. She did her best not to look surprised. She had not exactly expected evil to be dressed in a well mannered suit or be well groomed for that matter. "I was just… browsing," she said.
"Perhaps I can be of some assistance," Mr. Gold insisted, furthering away from the door leading to the back of the shop. He glanced over his potential client, shaking his head. "Unless you're seeking a new outfit. Then, I'm afraid I can't help you there, Miss."
"I suppose you can't, no," Lucy agreed, unmoving. "That gorge, it's awfully slippery, but I'm sure you know all about that, don't you?" she asked, voice laced with accusation.
The smirk that formed on his lips sent chills down Lucy's spine, indicating that she did indeed have the correct man. He stopped in his tracks and leaned forward slightly against his cane. "You've built quite the reputation as a trouble maker. I was beginning to wonder when I would formally make your acquaintance… Princess. If only you had arrived a few moments earlier-"
"I'm not a princess anymore. You made sure of that, didn't you?" Lucy snapped. "I was a child-"
"You were a pawn," Mr. Gold corrected. "A piece in a very messy, complicated game, dearie."
"Then it was you," Lucy stated, no longer shaking from the cold temperature, but out of the sudden fury that had emerged. "Admit it. All those years ago. It was you."
His low chuckle made the hair on Lucy's skin stand on end. "You're going to have to be more specific, I'm afraid."
"Just how many children have you taken from their mothers?" she spat in disgust.
Her question was met with another low, creepy chuckle of which she was already not fond. Lucy did not understand the gravity of the things the man standing before her had done to get to where he was today. She would have bolted from the shop if she had – or maybe foolish bravery would have kept her rooted in her spot as it did now. "I know your story, I know my mother's. You could have let her be."
"Unfortunately, dearie, I'm not in the habit of breaking my deals," Mr. Gold pointed out.
"But you didn't and she didn't either! You offered her an alternate deal," Lucy remarked. "Your name for my life, wasn't it? There was something, you saw something in her and you took pity."
He was smirking again. She was also quickly learning to dislike that smirk along with the chuckle. Mr. Gold took a couple steps closer. Lucy did not budge, but watched as he walked around her, heading towards the glass case. He did, indeed, see something all that time ago – a parent doing what was best to ensure their child's safety, to do what was best for them. He also saw something more: the final parts of a plan he had spent eons perfecting.
"A-And then you took it anyway," she accused, whirling around to face him. "You made me fall, you made sure I couldn't reach the surface of the water. You wanted to take me away from her."
"What exactly do you want to accuse me of, Miss… well, Mills," he finished with a bemused grin.
"Have you been listening-"
"You've been beating around the bush," Mr. Gold interjected, resting his cane against the wall. "But you haven't said it. Not exactly. Perhaps the words are too heavy. The accusation certainly is."
A frown tugged on the corners of her lips. Lucy may have been glaring daggers, but it did not matter. Mr. Gold was more interested in the jewelry in the case that Lucy had previously been examining. She could not deem herself capable of even remotely frightening him. How do you even begin to frighten a man who inspired so many nightmares anyway? Whose true name alone could evoke fear to many? As he slid open the glass case, he glanced up towards Lucy to confirm his own assumption. The accusation was not one to be taken lightly, after all.
When she continued to say nothing, Mr. Gold returned his attention to the display where he fetched the simple ring from the collection, the ring Lucy had been eyeing. "A momentum from someone long gone," he explained. "Originally from a horse's saddle and served as an engagement ring for a short while, as well as a token of remembrance. It was part of a set consisting of three pieces, Miss Mills, none of which have been reunited until you stepped into this very shop."
"What do you mean?" Lucy asked. She could have jumped to conclusions, it would not have been hard, but she had a deal of her own to uphold: be a distraction, hold his interest for as long as possible, and keep him talking. She had one of the pieces, okay, sure: the necklace. It had been her mother's – as had that ring. She knew the story, knew what Grandpa Henry had told her at the very least.
"The chain you're so intent on hiding is the second piece," Mr. Gold explained needlessly, pointing to the purple scarf around her neck with his free hand while setting the ring down on the glass counter. "The ring comes from poverty and the chain from middle class. Now, the third and final piece, well, it comes from royalty, but they all encompass the very same idea."
Lucy shook her head slowly, eyes narrowing at him. "So where is the third piece then?" she asked.
"Standing right in front of me," Mr. Gold automatically replied, his bemused grin returning. His answer sucked the air from her lungs, leaving her speechless. "I'll go ahead and assume your follow up question, if you were at all capable of asking it, would be about that idea, wouldn't it?"
He interpreted the silence as an invitation to continue.
"A complete lack of happiness."
Her mouth had gone dry and her stomach twisted into tight, hot knots. The alternate deal he had offered all those years ago, it had never mattered. He had wanted, had intended, to take her anyway. "You killed me," she finally accused. Her voice was low, the words scratched painfully in her throat, but that did not stop Lucy from repeating them, louder and more forcefully.
"Dearie, I also brought you back," he revealed.
Her breath hitched and her eyes widened. Lucy's shoulders dropped and she found herself shaking her head once more. "No, it was the Blue Fairy-"
His light chuckle interrupted her. "There isn't a good fairy in all the realms, in all the worlds, that would have dared to help you, let alone the Blue Fairy. Given the amount of dark magic practiced by your grandmother and even your mother at the time, you were too exposed – tainted."
"My mother didn't-"
"In order to protect you from me, dearie, she taught herself a spell or two – enough to earn disdain from the fairies."
"Then why did you do it?" Lucy asked the next obvious question. "If you went out of your way to kill me, then why? Why save me too?" She walked up the counter, standing too close to him for her own comfort. "And then allow me to transform? Why?"
Mr. Gold watched her a moment. Her glare, her set expression of anger, the fire in her eyes that demanded answers – the apple did not fall from the tree. She mimicked the queen's exact stance, one that he had seen only moments before. It was such a shame she would not be around long enough to prove herself a worthy adversary – or had been around to be a troubling princess. Mr. Gold was certain she would have been too. He could not imagine her to have been neither quiet or obedient. Princess Lillian would have given Snow White a lot of grief, just as Lucy currently was giving Mary Margaret.
"When it comes to dealing with the queen, I prefer not to be…" his voice trailed off slightly as he pondered for the right word. "Empty-handed."
"This is just some game to you, isn't it? You knew about the curse before hand, you wanted her to see me here in Storybrooke."
"You're assuming I was under the impression that I knew you'd be running about on two legs once again," he pointed out. "Well, that's where you're wrong, unfortunately. This wasn't my doing, but believe me, it has been fun to watch. As you can imagine, things have been quite dull around here for the last, oh, twenty eight years."
"Then who?"
"Now that's a mystery for us all, isn't it?"
Another unneeded mystery. More unanswerable questions. Lucy sighed heavily, but it was far from defeat – it was out of annoyance to an answer she had not expected. Whatever the case, however, he had provided plenty of answers, given more information she had expected to receive, and because of that, this conversation lasted longer than what she thought it originally would.
"Why are you telling me all this?" she asked.
"Who would believe you?" Mr. Gold countered, grabbing a hold of his cane.
Lucy frowned. "No one," she muttered. Her response earned her another one of his despised smirks. Snow White and Red were probably both now under the impression that she wanted the Evil Queen to succeed and Regina thought the exact opposite. They would think of it as an attempt to trick the other.
He began to round the glass case as Lucy took a few small steps backward. "And I'm afraid, Miss Mills, for the same reasons, no one will note your disappearance – not until it's too late!" Tossing up his cane, he took a hold of the rubber end and swung, but Lucy grabbed a hold of the metallic handle. Under the false illusion of having blocked the attack, Lucy could not comprehend why that ugly smirk had not been wiped from that equally so face. She quickly learned why.
Her right palm suddenly felt as though it was ablaze with fire.
Silver. The handle was made of silver.
Normally, Lucy did not cry or whimper, and it was always out of pride. Countless of times, she had been pushed around and beaten by the other members of the wolf pack that had not fully accepted her. She had endured plenty of injuries. Plenty, but she never cried. This time, however, was different. This time, Lucy had someone on her side, someone who could hear her and help.
Mr. Gold thought nothing of it as he continued to press the handle against the bare skin of her hand. Even over the cry, he could hear the sizzling. Lucy's knees buckled and she sank down to the floor. Mr. Gold did not falter, not until thick leather bound book collided with the side of his head. Releasing his grasp, Gold flung over the glass counter. His upper body landed with a loud crack.
Lucy quickly looked up at a panting August. She did not know how much he had heard, nor did she really care at the particular moment – he definitely heard what she wanted him to. With her free hand, Lucy grabbed a hold of the wooden cane and braced herself before ripping the handle free from her hand. It was a searing pain, but Lucy, as she stood up, reminded herself that I could have been a hell of a lot worse.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Gold starting to push himself up from the counter. Still holding the cane, Lucy swung hard, smashing it hard against his back. His collision with the counter this time was met with shattering glass. August reached out to grab her wrist, intending to lead her away, but Lucy pulled away.
Taking off the scarf, Lucy stepped up and reached into the case. Gold pulled himself up and lunged towards Lucy who had fished out the silver ring with her scarf covered hand, not exactly wanting to find out if the dull silver was real or not. His bloody hands were inches away from her neck before August grabbed a hold of the back of his suit jacket. August pulled him away and yanked him hard to the ground. Lucy had just tucked the scarf covered ring into her pocket as August grabbed her by the elbow this time.
Instead of fighting back, Lucy quickly followed him out of the shop. They ran across the street, passed the construction zone, to where August's motorcycle was parked. He threw on a helmet before helping Lucy with his spare. She did not object, knowing full well that there was no other method to escape that would be equally as fast.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" Lucy asked, watching him climb onto the bike.
"No," he answered, looking over his shoulder. "Something else – get on."
Lucy did not need to be told twice. "Then what?" she asked, getting on behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist carefully, mindful of her newly injured hand.
"The truth," he said before the engine roared to life.
xxxx
The apples that hung from the branches of the old tree had lost their shine and their bright red color had dulled considerably. Their skin had wrinkled, covered in bruises. They were no longer inviting, begging to be tasted. They no longer promised to be crispy or juicy, delicious. They no longer offered the familiar sense of comforter they once had and that Lucy had been seeking for.
She stood only a few steps away from the tree. Her neck was tilted up, allowing her to see the browning leaves along with the rotting apples – a far cry from the sight she had been expecting. Lucy shook her head, glad that August had gone off on his own. He had to. Neither of them knew if Gold would stay quiet. August wanted to be one step ahead, just in case he did not. August's trust with Emma was on the line. Lucy knew hers with the sheriff had been destroyed weeks ago – probably went she elbowed her in the face.
August was, however, a little hesitant about leaving her alone, within close quarters of the queen and with her hand untreated. Lucy had quickly pointed out the missing Mercedes and had said it would only be a short while. As for the hand, it only looked bad, she reassured, an obvious lie. She had even offered an invitation to stay, but he did not. Emma – he had to get to Emma.
They had parted ways, not sharing a word about what had just happened, but the feeling of thanks was mutual. August had quickly pulled away from the mansion, both unaware that the rumbling engine had caught the attention of someone within.
Well, at least, Lucy was not aware until she heard the back door unlocking and opening. It was not the mayor. It could not be the mayor. Slowly, Lucy turned around and her assumption was confirmed. A faint, small smile tugged on the corners of her lips at the sight of the young boy standing on the porch. It had been a while since their last encounter – it had been at the new playground. She had transformed in front of him.
They did have another run in after that. Very brief. They had both been preoccupied at the time, however. The boy had been trying to hide from the Wolf and Lucy had been trying to fight off the very same creature. They both probably did not mind that the other did not exchange pleasantries.
Lucy did not move from her spot. Henry was crossing the lawn, heading towards her. "Where have you been!" he questioned. "You said – You said you'd be back! I thought something happened!"
"I'm okay," Lucy quickly reassured, but Henry, just as quick, spotted the holes in her answer.
"What happened to your hand?" he asked. Observant kid. Braver than her – Lucy refused to look at her own hand. "And your face." Ah, the cut. "And your neck." Okay. She was not okay.
"I've been working on Operation… Python?"
"Cobra," Henry corrected.
"Right, Cobra," Lucy repeated. "Some solo work – don't recommend it," she added, sitting down cross legged on the grass. Henry quickly mimicked her. "Kid, do you have your book here?"
Henry shook his head. "Emma has it," he replied. "Why? What did you find out? Do you know how to break the curse? Did you figure it out?"He was so eager, evident in his voice. He was ready to burst. Truth be told, Lucy found it a little overwhelming. Had she and Snow been the same way when they were that young?
"No, I didn't," Lucy answered honestly. It was not breaking the curse she was currently concerned about. No, she was more concerned about the resulting ramifications. "When do you think you can get it back?"
Henry chewed the bottom of his lip as he pondered the question. There was a lot going on in Storybrooke today which made getting the book back probably near impossible. He could only imagine how often the sheriff's line was currently going off – and city hall too for that matter. "If it's not canceled again, at school tomorrow morning," he replied. "Why?"
"There are a couple stories I want to check out," Lucy admitted. "Would that be alright?" Her question was followed by a hesitant pause. He had every right to be a little hesitant. From her understanding, that book was his prized possession – kind of like her and her necklace once upon a time. Now she would do anything to get rid of it. "Or maybe you can check them out for me," she amended. He seemed of have preferred that offer instead.
"Which stories?" he asked.
"Rumpelstilskin – anything involving him and the queen," she replied with a slight wince. The pain in her hand had subsided, or it was more likely to have gone numb, but even the slightest twitch of a single finger summoned the unbearable searing sensation once again. She had tried to be subtle, but realized she had failed when the boy offered to take her inside, since there was a first aid kit stored away in the guest bedroom. Lucy quickly declined before mentioning the stories once more.
"I already read about them," Henry said. "Rumpelstilskin created the curse that the Evil Queen cast. Is that the story you're looking for?"
Lucy shook her head, prepared to play off any sign of surprise as a reaction to a sudden sharp pain. She had not been aware of the curse's origins, but now was not the time to question it. She had to play her cards right. This Operation Cobra started with this kid. If she could steer him to the right stories, maybe her own would come to light. Then, he would tell everyone who would listen, right?
"How about anything before that?" Lucy asked. "Before she was queen?"
"You think they knew each other before then?" Henry questioned, tilting his head slightly.
"I definitely think there's a good chance," Lucy nodded. At least she was not lying. "Haven't you read about the queen?"
"Yeah, I've read about all the terrible things she's done," Henry answered.
Lucy forced herself to nod along, clenching her jaw as she did so. Now was not the time or place, she reminded herself. She could not risk deterring the kid in any way yet – not without that book, but it did bother her. It bothered her that Henry did not yet take the time to read about the queen's past and that he would so quickly label her as evil. Then a pang of guilt, not pain, made her since. Lucy had done the exact same thing. It had taken Grandpa Henry for her to see things differently. Yes, the queen had earned her title, but what was the story behind it? Not the story they had all ben feed and readily accepted, but the true story – the one that refused to be as simple as black and white. Reality was composed of shades of gray, a definition that is not so easily accepted by the masses.
"Right, well," Lucy muttered, glancing over her shoulder for a second. "Tomorrow morning in the school yard – do you think you can have those Rumpelstilskin stories ready?"
Henry nodded as the both of them stood up.
"Good," Lucy said with a forced smile. "Go back inside, okay? Lay low and don't be suspicious. We may just make a huge crack in Operation Cobra if everything goes accordingly." With that, Henry's face lit up brightly. He gave her another nod, a sign that he understood the importance of the task – no, mission – that he had been given.
Lucy watched him run back to the house and watched him lock the porch door before disappearing inside. She waited a moment before speaking up. "I know you're out there, watching," she called out. "And you better believe I'm more than capable of escaping again."
To be continued