I do not own Once Upon A Time. Reviews are requested.

CHAPTER 6

STORYBROOKE The Sheriff's Office

Defense attorney Cucurbita continued hammering away at her theory. "That's why, despite your money and good looks, you've never chosen to love another. That stupid cow chose him, didn't she?"

Hurt, pain, and despair washed across his face to be replaced by growing rage. She may not have all of the details correct, but she was close, and she was goading him. Suddenly, her voice rang out, "What happened to her, Mr. Gold? Did she die?"

"Yes," he bolted up from the table, knocking his tea glass over. His calm was shattered ; he clutched the imperfect cup to his heart and shouted. "She killed herself!"

His eyes gleamed with near madness, but hers softened with heartbreak and a soul-deep empathy she could not yet understand. "I'm sorry," she apologized quietly. "I am so, so sorry." Linda stretched out her hand and righted the glass, mopping up the spilled tea with the extra napkins.

Like a kicked puppy, he sank back down into his seat still cradling the cup. His head was bowed in defeat, his hair hanging limply. There were no sobs or tears, but the grief wracking his thin shoulders was unmistakable just the same.

Linda let him take all the time he needed until he could master his pain. "Alright," Linda spoke softly, "I'll talk to French and his lawyer- " at his jerk of alarm, she amended, "I won't say anything about her." He nodded and swallowed, wetting his lips as well. "One: French broke into your home out of revenge for his loss during a business deal," she ticked her statements off with her fingers. "Two: He stole many of your most valuable possessions. Three: He sold at least one of those priceless treasures to recoup his losses," she pointed to the cup. "Four: He later broke into your cabin with the intent to attack you personally -"

Gold raised his eyebrow and cocked his head. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. "That's pure fabrication. It was the other way around," he paused and smiled grimly, "or so it was reported."

Linda knew she was suggesting a lie, covering up for him. It was wrong - a crime. She didn't know why she felt this compulsion. But she knew without any hesitation that she had to do this, had to protect him, even from himself. This wasn't the way she handled her job. Never had she done anything like this before. But aomething unnamable surged within, filling her with the need to protect this man at all costs. She shook her head slightly and shrugged. "Is there anyone who could corroborate French's version of the story?"

"David Nolan saw me buying duct tape and rope."

A rueful but impish smile settled on her soft, pink lips. "So? It was Valentine's Day, and you were headed up to your cabin for a kinky romp," she offered. Heaven help me, she thought. What am I doing? Gold grinned rakishly but didn't interrupt her foray into fiction. "Did anyone actually see you kidnap French?"

When he shook his head, she continued, "So, it's just his word against yours, right?" He's been so mistreated; I have to take care of him.

"Hmph," he snorted. "And how do we explain the fact that Sheriff Swan saw me beating him with my cane while he lay trussed up on my floor?"

She winced at that. "Apparently, you got the best of your assailant and tied him up to await the police."

"And how was I, poor cripple that I am, supposed to have gotten the better of a big fellow like Moe French?" he asked.

She smiled. "You weren't alone, remember? Your kinky lady friend helped you tie him up, then she left and called the police. French was teasing you about your long, lost love and threatening to expose your new girlfriend. That's when you lost your temper and attacked." Why am I lying for him? "A crime of passion," she said. "And," she hesitated and wet her lips. She stared at her hands, gathering her courage to her breast, before adding. "I'll even pose as your kinky girlfriend if Spencer balks."

All traces of emotion drained from his face, and Gold stared at the woman before him. Yes, he remember those times she had been brave, all of the times, she had cared for him. He even remembered her offer to marry him in order to help him raise Bae. "What will it cost me?" he asked her. "What's the price for your defensive fiction?"

Your love, she wanted to answer. Why these words popped into her mind, she didn't know. For a moment she feared irrationally that he could read the truth in her eyes, and she was appalled at the thought. At least she didn't say them aloud. "Nothing, Mr. Gold, I'm the public defender." She began cleaning up the remains of his meal to cover her embarrassment.

"As much as I appreciate it, there must be more to it than a simple 'Thank you, Miss Public Defender.' You're going well beyond the call of duty here," he told her. "You're even wading deep into the murky waters of perjury for my sake."

"There's nothing - " she began, but he cut her off.

"Just for argument's sake," he urged, "let's say I could give you anything you wanted, anything at all. My freedom is certainly worth it to me. You don't have to say it aloud. Just think it. What do you desire most in the world?"

The intensity of those deep brown eyes fascinated and frightened her. They mesmerized her like a cobra hypnotizes a bird. Those eyes of his compelled her to answer, honestly and truthfully, if not completely. "I only want the man I love." she whispered. "I want to take care of his home and have his child. That is more than enough for me."

"It's a deal," he smiled.

Two Weeks Later - In the Enchanted Forest.

A yawning Bae found his father sitting alone by the fire, a strange look on his face. But when he noticed his tiny son, he smiled and motioned the boy over. "Good morning, son," he smoothed the boy's hair and settled him at the table. "I'll have your breakfast in a moment." Hurrying as best as he was able, Rumplestiltskin ladled the boy's porridge into his bowl, gave him his spoon, and urged him to eat.

"Where's Auntie?" the child asked as he swallowed a mouthful.

Bae's papa answered with a forced laugh. "Ah, I have good news to tell you, Bae. I brokered a marriage deal for her and Peter Cucurbita, the farmer - oh, but we must remember to call him Uncle Peter now."

When Bae's bottom lip trembled and his eyes watered with tears, Rumple sat down at the table next to him. His voice was soft as he tried to explain to the boy. "Oh, Bae, we can't be selfish and keep her all to ourselves. It was her decision, too. All she ever wanted was a husband she loved and a child to raise." He wet his lips and turned away. "Perhaps she'll have a chance for that now.