A/N: I haven't included the storyline of memory loss or loss of magic upon crossing the town line in this fic as I feel Belle is in some ways integral to this, and I don't plan on including BelleXGold apart from in passing comments. I hope this reads well regardless :)
The tension inside Gold's car is tangible, and he imagines one would be able to slice through it with a knife. His knuckles are blanched a stark white as he grips the steering wheel too tight; not one to be thrown by a little discomfort, but his emotions balance on the wire as he thinks about the task ahead.
The Queen sits beside him with her back rigidly straight, and, like the blonde, she has said nothing since slipping insinde the plush warmth of the Lincoln.
When the women had arrived at his estate, there had been little conversation; Regina greeting him with a frown, while the Sheriff had offered him a peculiar confused expression he'd been unsure whether to find maddening or endearing.
Not that it matters.
A brief swap of forced pleasantries and they had filed towards his car.
Words had been exchanged briefly between Emma and the brunette; the blonde asking Regina if she had a preference for where she was to sit, with the Queen subsequently informing her sternly that the younger woman was to sit in the back, 'away from him'. Predictably, such strict reprimand had earned a scowl from the Sheriff, but Gold is unable to say whether her look of frustration had been the result of the wilful young woman being told what to do, or whether it had been the result of being told what to do in front of an audience.
For the two of them not to have clawed each others' eyes out as of yet, one of them has to be willing to take things as they come occasionally, and that's unlikely to be Regina...
They have been sitting - or festering is perhaps a better word - in uncomfortable silence for not much longer than half an hour, but already this feels as though it may be one of the longest excursions on which he's ever embarked. He's anxious to get to New York and make progress, but he's also wary of the need to tread carefully. It's not to his liking at all that the brunette has invited herself along, and he worries that the Queen may serve to complicate matters. How she might do so, he doesn't know, but it would have been preferable to travel with Emma alone.
Still, much as it vexes him, he isn't surprised by the way things have turned out.
Never meant things to go the way they did... Never intentionally hurt the girl... And, just as the Queen has found it within herself to change, the 'Dark One' is perhaps no longer such a fitting title... Time and loss can change things.
This internal drivel has the little man letting out an irritable sigh through his crooked nose. He will leave such soul-searching to Her Majesty, who is at least getting something out of it, and quit before he fools himself into believing he is as subjectable to grief and guilt as the brunette.
He simply hadn't planned for the Sheriff to end up in the appalling state she had, and that's all there is to it.
All there is to it!
Still, he'd had a hard time averting his gaze from skinny wrists back in the sun-drenched curve of his driveway.
White lines - bracelets - circling the Saviour's pale flesh like strange and ancient markings.
Glancing up into the rear-view mirror, he studies the blonde curiously, watching as the young woman stares pensively out of the window at the passing scenery, the never-ending battalion of trees causing her eyes to flicker restlessly.
Hypnotically.
So much so that he's thrown when she looks up suddenly to find meet his gaze.
The Sheriff's expression doesn't change, and he's unsure exactly what emotion lies behind thick lashes; willing to admit that his occasional difficulty in reading Emma with the same ease he reads others makes him feel a little on edge around the woman.
Only the Queen offers the same conundrum.
Waiting for the blonde to lower her eyes as he stares her down through the glass, Gold takes in a silent breath when the mirror goes suddenly dark with a shimmer of violet, and he returns his attention to the road... But not before sneaking a glance at the brunette whose lip twitches with otherwise well-hidden anger.
He's willing to bet the Queen's magic goes undetected by the Sheriff, and he's right.
Regina casts her cloaking charm over the mirror with copper-mouthed distaste. She's aware in the back of her mind that the blonde would find her current internal struggle ludicrous, but she's unable to help herself. She doesn't want Gold looking at Emma. Studying her. Not when she can't be sure of his intentions.
Overprotective? She's sure Emma would be the first to say so... But the younger woman didn't come by the scars circling her wrists blamelessly.
She's pulled from her thoughts by a loud sigh of theatrical boredom from the back of the car.
I'm almost surprised she hasn't resorted to kicking the back of his seat...
"Can I help you, dear?"
A raised brow to match her disdainful tone. It's not something they've discussed, but underlying feelings aside, the women have slipped easily back into their old ways as they endure Gold's company; something about which all three of them are silently relieved.
"I still don't get why we're driving all the way to New York."
Emma grumbles dutifully.
"Well, what would you propose? That we show up in Manhattan in a puff of smoke?"
"Hm. I guess I can't even tell you not to be ridiculous, but I meant more as in why drive when we could fly?"
"Well, I may have less of an understanding on such matters than yourself, but I can't imagine we'd get very far with the three of us banding together under your one license?"
"You guys have magic! You can't create a couple of forms of ID?"
The blonde huffs, crossing her arms in a teenaged fashion that has the brunette rolling her eyes; recognising the Sheriff's current pissy attitude for the one she'd once so frequently resorted to when feeling in over her head.
Gold speaks up in a neutral tone, all too aware that injecting his opinion into the conversation between the two is unlikely to go down well with the Mayor.
"We could, Miss Swan, but for the sake of an extra six hours of travel, it didn't seem worth the risk."
"Right..."
Regina turns in her seat to shoot Emma a look as she catches the younger woman muttering something about Jedi mind tricks sullenly beneath her breath; unfamiliar with the term, but recognising the symptoms of the blonde's sudden descent into moodiness as though she were faced with Henry rather than the town's functioning Sheriff.
"Pull over at the next stop, we'll get some coffee and food for the car."
She instructs Gold, and she offers Emma just the smallest hint of a smirk which she's sure she receives in kind when green eyes glitter momentarily up at her.
There's no way the girl's stomach is the sole culprit of her mood, but, when one knows a sure way to subdue the beast...