Chapter Nineteen

Vivien sat, staring into space, vaguely aware of discomfort throughout her body. For the 18th time she wondered exactly how she'd ended up here. Granted, she'd been a bit imprudent and her temper had gotten the better of her. But jail? Seriously? And why wasn't Gold in here as well? He was just as much to blame.

A few hours earlier:

August had been reluctant to let her leave. Mostly because the moment she got up to dress his skin went back to wood grain. She needed to get to Gold's shop before he closed and she'd already spent most of the day out in the woods. August didn't try to ask for any promises. She liked that. No strings attached. How appropriate.

Gold's shop was open but as usual he was nowhere to be found. She wasn't sure if that was because he was off causing trouble elsewhere or just waiting in back like a sneaky guard dog. Vivien hadn't been in the shop since – well, it had been a few years. She'd forgotten the chaos of it, the treasures and trash all mingling so that they became difficult to differentiate. It reminded her of some peoples' minds. Here a gem, here some tinsel.

There were books scattered everywhere but she doubted August had bothered with complete hardcover binding. No, more likely the pages were simply strung or folded together and tucked into one of his saddlebags. But then again, Gold might've decided to hide it in plain sight. What could be more perfect than putting the right book in the wrong cover?

She grabbed the volume nearest her hand and thumbed through the pages. No, definitely just a magical bestiary. But they got the drawing of the Griffin wrong. The next was a collection of poems and folk songs. "And I will show you ferlies three." That sounds damn familiar. Pretty sure I met that queen. The third was a spell book. She smiled as the familiar words that would be absolute gibberish to a lay person framed a magical sentence for making a cow give sweeter milk. Ah, the innocent days when magic was the cure for everything. It was the double-edged sword of her world, rather like medicine in this one.

"From what Belle tells me you already know your way around a library. Looking for something specific, dearie?" the condescending tones emerged with Gold from the back room. His voice hit her spine like claws on a chalkboard. She set down the book and turned square to face him, she didn't like the idea of being caught unawares.

"In a way. I thought you might have August's things."

"The writer? Now why would I have his belongings? Surely you know he left as soon as the curse was broken." Gold had an obvious distaste in his eye at the thought of the man. Was there anyone in Storybrooke that didn't have a complicated history?

"I know nothing of the kind," she carefully avoided any admissions, "What I do know is that his typewriter was vintage. It required a very specific kind of lubrication oil to keep the keys from jamming. I can smell it. Or should I have Ruby come in here and sniff around?"

"I may have come into possession of a few of his belongings. I can't say for certain I have all of them. Perhaps if you told me what it is you're looking for?" Gold conceded one point without giving an inch.

"It's not your concern, Gold. I want August's things, any that you have. This is a pawn shop, isn't it?"

"Of course, all sorts of personal possessions and private mementoes. All of it with a price. In your case, that price is information." He was growing more suspicious of her by the moment, which wasn't helping her over all feelings towards him either.

"Why? What does it matter?" she barely controlled the burst of temper starting to cloud in at the corner of her eyes. She'd been spending too much time with Regina.

"As I said, I doubt I have everything of Mr. Booth's. He seemed the paranoid sort. I'd hate to sell you a bill of goods only to lack what you're after." He strolled casually around his display cases, by obscure tangents working his way closer to her defenses.

"Or maybe you'd prefer to hold back what I'm after, claiming not to have it until you can figure out why it matters." Vivien turned in time with his circles, always keeping him in her focus.

"So it is something specific."

"Perhaps. Maybe I'm just the sentimental type."

"I doubt it, dearie. No, I'd rather have a few more facts before I start turning over potential magic objects to someone such as yourself." He stopped moving and faced her now, just outside physical striking range but far too close for magical comfort.

"Really? Just what is it you think you know about me?" Vivien called his bluff. Whatever he thought he knew was bound to be way off. She wasn't entirely confident though. Gold had a way of knowing things that no one else could ever find out.

"I know you're unstable, unreliable, shortsighted and lacking in discipline." His eyes danced around the room as he recited the list of her failings. She couldn't argue that those had indeed been flaws that influenced their previous dealings. Which explained what he thought he knew.

"So that's it," she realized with relief just how wrong he was, "You think I'm still some prescription pill popping junkie."

"I like to make conclusions based on evidence, dearie," How did he make the endearment sound like such an insult? "Unless there's something you think I've missed."

Lake wasn't sure if she should laugh at his arrogance or punch him for being such a patronizing asshole. All he knew of her was the desperate addict that had once been in hock to him for more of her conscience than her bank account. That person had been gone for a long time. Even before the curse broke. All that was left of that woman was the gnawing desire to pay Gold back. For everything.

"Actually, I wouldn't mind adding a few more facts for you to consider," Vivien's smile was the cocking of a trigger, "Everyone around here has taken to calling me a Healer. It's very sweet but they miss a crucial element. Healing begins with understanding the nature of the hurt."

Gold's cane flying out of his hand and smashing a nearby display case must've come as a surprise but his face stayed calm. It was Lake's turn to circle him, to prowl closer and test the strength of his defenses.

"That thing is such a crutch. Your limp has always confused me. I know how injuries like that work. It's old. You should've healed up years ago and even if things didn't knit quite right the rest of your structure would've learned to compensate by now. With the medical technologies and therapies available there is no physical reason for your impaired gait – never mind the magic at your fingertips."

In her mind's eye she stroked down the length of his leg, past the knee (which was perfectly intact) and into the calf. There was where everything became a network of crisscrossing damage. From this distance she could still find the vulnerable spot. She applied just a touch of force. Gold's breathing quickened for a space, the sharp inhalation of alarm that was the body's first warning.

"So much scarring yet still so sensitive. Some old wounds just don't heal right, do they? Pain has all sorts of subtexts. This one is . . .weak. What happened, Gold? Did you come up against someone stronger than you? Or were you just too scared to try?" she pushed again, harder.

"Bloody witch." Gold whispered, furious. He was already bent over slightly, trying to clutch at the injured spot as though he could staunch the pain. His words were accusation, not insult.

"Not even close," Vivien laughed with a voice she'd forgotten was her own, "Now, in my experience bones heal but they aren't always what hurt the most. Other things can be broken that will never repair. There is no bandage, for example, for pride."

"Stop this or you'll regret it." The threat was very real, even if it was gasped as another bolt of pain shot up his leg. It was far too late to override the intoxicating effect of adrenaline and magic coursing through her veins.

"You thought you knew me, Mr. Gold, this is my rebuttal. You don't know a damn thing about who I am or what I can do. But I know you. I know your pain. You're crippled by your own shame." Her last twisting dig should've brought him to his knees. Instead he straightened himself, completely erect and swelling with strength.

"That was a mistake, dearie." He announced with finality right before his gesture sent a shockwave that slammed Vivien into the glass of the front door. It immediately crazed with fractures at her impact. It was ten times stronger than anything Regina had thrown at her.

Because he hates you now. That's power.

Vivien looked up at his predatory approach. He wasn't even close to done with her. He not only had the power to truly hurt her but he wanted to, she could see it in his eyes. The realization was . . .liberating.

"Thank you. I haven't been able to do this in years." Lake grinned. The power she gathered cracked every window in the room. All the glass exploded when she released it. Gold rolled backwards over a counter but was on his feet in seconds, firing another spell that narrowly missed Vivien's already dodging form.

The two matched magical ability spell for spell as they chased and dodged and danced through the pawn shop. Lake was exhilarated. Even without the curse it had been decades since she used her power to full potential. If she was surprised by Gold's ability to survive and retaliate, it was no more than his shock each time she got back on her feet. Like boxers with jabs they tested each other, looking for the weak spots.

Not lightning or wind. Vivien dove for cover when her elemental spells were immediately ricocheted back.

He's strong on fire. She smiled. Strengths come at a price, which meant his weakness was –

The water whipped around him in a cyclone that lifted him off the ground, a localized hurricane that gradually turned to shards of ice. Unfortunately, her strength and his weakness balanced perfectly and the molten flames from within the frozen prison were quickly melting the ice.

The water steamed off his body as they faced each other from across the store. She was smoking where his fireballs had caught her jacket. Even score all around. Time for round two.

"What the hell is going on in here?!" Emma had either the worst or best timing in the universe, bursting through the damaged door with her gun at the ready. The muzzle swerved back and forth between Gold and Lake.

"Small disagreement." Vivien lowered her hands. She wasn't going to let a bystander become collateral damage. Gold also relaxed his offensive stance.

"There was lightning shooting out into the street! Half the road is either frozen or on fire!" Emma still hadn't holstered her gun. Bullets might be useless in the face of magic but being armed held a sense of security.

"We just -," Lake's explanation was cut off as she was seized off the ground and flung across the shop like a child's doll. She was crashed through half the glass cases, tumbled over the high shelving units and dragged across several displays of pointy sharp things before being slammed into a wall.

"Gold!" Emma only had to train her weapon on one target now.

"She came in here and attacked me! I was defending myself." He would've sounded more convincing if he could've been a bit more scared and less triumphant. Vivien knew she'd let her guard drop. She'd spent too much magic in too short a time and he'd just used her like a broken puppet. He was too damn powerful and she'd been distracted. Fortunately, she'd landed in a corner where the melted ice water was pooling.

"You didn't have to do that!" Emma was still trying to argue with the pawn broker. Lake smiled a little, twitching her fingers in the water until a handful of ice crystals began to form. The two standing people were still arguing – Swan furious and Gold calmly content. The ball of ice hit him in the back of his smug head and knocked him into one of his own cupboards. He'd have matching goose eggs in front and behind. Vivien smiled as she watched his body slide to the floor.

Back to the present:

It hadn't been her most mature moment. Emma had cursed them both in long, detailed terms that had nothing to do with magic. But in the end only Vivien was wrenched from the floor and dragged down to the sheriff's station.

"He was throwing just as much magic as I was. And you saw what he did to me!" Lake protested again from her seat in the cell. Emma looked up wearily, obviously filling out the report on this was more complicated than the usual paperwork.

"And I would've let it go at that if you hadn't been such a child! You had to get the last blow in? He was in his business, you used violence against him. That's grounds for filing charges." Swan threw her pen down on her desk and spun to face the cell. Why did she always look so angry? Did that line between her eyebrows ever go away?

"Seriously? You're going to try to apply the outside laws in Storybrooke? I'm pretty sure no legal court would entertain 'assault with a magical weapon!'"

"So maybe we make it up as we go along but there have to be rules! I'm just going to keep you in here until he calms down and I can talk him out of doing anything stupid. You really pissed him off." The worry line faded a little with a twitch of amusement at her mouth.

"Yeah, well, Gold's a bastard. I should've made an icicle." Vivien scowled. Swan didn't argue that point. Instead she rose and approached the cell, analyzing her prisoner through the bars.

"What were you after? You aren't the first person to break into his shop but I've never seen it turn so violent."

Lake hesitated. It seemed pointless to be secretive now.

"August made a copy of Henry's book. I thought Gold might have it." She wasn't even sure of that anymore. Maybe Gold never had the book in the first place. Maybe August had sent her down the wrong path. Anyone and everyone could be lying and trying to play their game hadn't gotten her anywhere.

"Is there something special about this copy?" Emma crossed her arms, moving into her more guarded stance.

"No. I just thought it might answer some of my questions." Lake sighed and combed her fingers through her hair. She'd been on a magical/emotional roller coaster for days now and it was starting to feel futile.

Emma was quiet for some minutes. Vivien only recognized the silence by the ticking of the clock. Finally the sheriff rested her hand on the bars.

"Just rest for a while. I should be able to talk Gold out of pressing any charges after the lumps go down. Ruby said she'd bring you some dinner tonight and keep watch. Tomorrow we can fix all this."

The warmth of her tone was surprisingly comforting; the empathy sincere. Her confidence as savior was starting to fill in holes of her persona.

"And the book?" Lake couldn't help herself from pressing the question. She'd already done so many stupid things for a pitiful result. What could one more mistake hurt?

"We'll figure that out tomorrow too." Emma assured her with a solemn nod.

Sleeping in a cell was not a new experience for Vivien. Her history – both real and imagined – held enough instances of cages that one more wasn't going to interfere with a good night's sleep. There'd been the necromancer's tower, the bandits' cavern, several unfortunate encounters with elfin-kind and that one drunk and disorderly in Boston. All in all, the jail in StoryBrooke was luxurious compared to some of the other hospitality she'd experienced. At least here there weren't any assholes making sexist comments to her through the bars. That accent was intolerable.

The next morning Emma relieved Ruby (who'd fallen asleep slumped at the sheriff's desk) before taking Henry to breakfast. The boy was happily bouncing along at her heels, full of excitement and ideas. He nearly vibrated with the excess of fancy and enthusiasm. How did a kid like that come from mothers like Emma and Regina? Nature versus nurture be damned; there was no explanation for him.

He calmed when he saw Lake but approached without any fear.

"Mom says you attacked Mister Gold because you wanted to see my book." he looked worried about her. Did he think she'd lost her mind? Or was he simply worried that she would attack him next? She rose and came to the bars. Normally she'd kneel to talk to children but somehow knew Henry didn't want her at eye level. He wanted her at a distance.

"Not exactly. It was a copy I thought he had." She'd known Henry since he was born. She'd watched him grow up in measurements of weeks and months, depending on Regina's schedule of visits. She loved that she'd gotten to watch him crawl, wobble and walk around her office. She'd heard his early experiments with words (most of which were questions) and saw his bright, alert eyes gradually making sense of the world around him. Right now he was doing it all over again, learning his world and how to make his way through it.

"If you wanted to see my book why didn't you just ask? I would've shown it to you, Viv." His eyes conveyed the color of injury. He would've helped her, if only she'd asked. She probably wouldn't even have had to ask – he would've helped her if he'd just known she needed it. He was too young to be so noble. And he'd called her Viv for as long as they'd known each other. It was an extra knife in the ribs.

"I'm sorry, Henry. I thought you were," Vivien wasn't even sure of the reasons, "Too busy. Or maybe too good. You shouldn't have to worry about someone like me."

The admission hung in the air between them. It was like the flag of surrender extended in battle, waiting for acceptance or rejection. Henry never had a chance to respond. Emma finished whatever busywork had brought her to the office and joined them at the cage. She seemed to pointedly ignore the tension in the silent air.

"Ready for breakfast, kiddo?" she looked affectionately down at her son before noticing Vivien, "I haven't spoken to Gold yet but I will this morning. We should have you out of here before the day is over."

"Thank you, Sheriff." Lake was grateful that she didn't have to keep looking at Henry's wounded expression. A day in jail, a week even – so long as those bruised eyes went away. Emma's smile flickered with concern but she squeezed the boy's shoulders and led him away. Vivien lay back on her cell bunk, listening to them talk about what to have for breakfast. The words echoed in the hall with the same distance as the pleasures in life they described.

Last chance - in the next chapter Vivien and her origins will be identified. Any thoughts, suppositions, suggestions or reviews have to weigh in now.