Storybrooke's priciest, most prestigious restaurant was connected to their ballet theatre. As Victor arrived for his date with Red, he could hear the music from the theatre...The song was when Odile was introduced. He didn't know how he recognized the song, but hearing the oddly familiar music alerted him they were dancing Swan Lake.
The waiter was dressed to the nines in what looked to Dr. Frankenstein like a million-dollar suit. Victor didn't know whether to be amused or feel lowly, but the waiter escorted him with such amiable professionalism, Victor quickly forgot he'd gotten his suit and tie from a thrift store. And that it wasn't perfect-fitting but a size or two too large.
The floor's texture was so strange it gave Victor the sensation he was wearing manly high heels instead of the sneakers he'd put on. He'd bought some dress shoes from the thrift store, solely for this occasion. But they made him feel weird. He hadn't been able to bring himself to keep them on. At last, he'd studied them on his cluttered desk, drumming his fingers and sucking the insides of his cheeks between his teeth while exhaling. And he'd smelled mothballs and realized the shoes were designed in 1920.
He'd promptly tossed them in the garbage, red-faced, knowing Red would tease him about being her great-great grandfather if she knew anything about fashion. He'd thrown up a little at the thought of making her feel like one of the daughters in the Twelve Dancing Princesses. What the hell was up with geezers in fairy tales being anxious to marry underage girls anyway?
He'd then scooped up his boots, but he just felt too self-conscious to wear anything but his trusty sneakers. At least the boots had been a Christmas gift from his secret Santa last year, so he knew they were decently in fashion. They'd come with a receipt proving they had been purchased a week prior. And he liked them fine. But he was too damn nervous on this date.
At least he'd been able to wash the suit three times to make sure it smelled like him and not whoever had dropped it off at the thrift store. But he hadn't noticed a weird scent about it. The thrift store itself had smelled very nice, and the teenage girl working there had been accommodating and cheerful. There'd been five suits in this size, and she'd held them all up to him and told him the ebony one looked the best next to his face. She'd seemed sincere, so he was confident he could trust her.
He'd navigated the shoes by himself and had subconsciously noticed she wrinkled her brow at them and asked a little weirdly, "Are you sure?" He'd been too anxious to leave to pay much attention to her polite attempt to suggest he leave without the shoes.
On the way to his table, while chatting with the waiter, Victor caught sight of the man he knew as the benefactor who gave him the gold he needed to complete his scientific research on bringing people back from the dead. Rumple, Mr. Gold, the man who Victor found himself better than because he thought science was far better than magic.
By Rumplestiltskin's side was a beautiful brunette with a red streak through her hair. Her crinkled eyes were the most stunning shade of blue. She was laughing and looked extremely happy. In one hand, she cradled a stemmed glass of wine between her forefinger and middle finger and grasped it in her cupped palm. Her other hand clutched a book to her bosom.
Dr. Frankenstein had never seen this woman before, but he privately wished her luck if she wanted to tackle…well…at least Rumple could spin straw to gold. He had a nice mansion…but a pawn shop where nobody actually paid him for the things they made off with wasn't a real job. It was a cursed job. If he couldn't spin straw to gold, Victor felt sure Rumple would live in his shop…until the day the landlord seized him by the ear, snarled, "You haven't paid me in twenty-nine years!" then threw him out into the streets. Had the locks changed.
Victor supposed magic was good for something after all, but Science was better, much better…
Then he was seated at a table for two with a rose in a vase in the center of the table. Over the table hung a gorgeous, romantic chandelier that Victor was certain Red would adore when she arrived.
He got settled in his seat, shifting his thighs until he was comfortable. Placing his napkin on his lap, he ordered a glass of water, "Until my lady arrives."
The back of his neck went red calling her his "lady". He wished he could take that word back, but in this fancy restaurant, what else would he call her? "My wolf friend"? "My wolf love"? "The woman I hope will get tingly inside at the sight of me and maybe want me to kiss her lips?"
He smiled to himself, imagining reaching for her hand. Both of their elbows graceful on the table as he brought his mouth to her eager, waiting lips. Hearing her purr against his mouth. Seeing her beautiful eyes gaze amorously into his as she rubbed his nose with hers…
"Your water, sir," the waiter said before elegantly placing the glass cup in front of him. Victor flinched. Slumped forward, chin in his palm (which was propped on the table with his elbow), he'd lost awareness of his reality as he'd gotten swept up in a passionate fantasy of Red taking him right here in this restaurant…
…but in his fantasy, they'd been the sole occupants of the restaurant. With its dim, romantic chandelier lighting, aromatic smell, and welcoming atmosphere. Having the waiter approach him was being hit by a tsunami while surfing.
He took a sip from the straw. Although the water here was still free, he could taste lemon and other rich things he couldn't place. Shaking his head, he thought to himself if rich people screw with their water all the time, they're likely to end up in the hospital more often.
But hell if he knew. He didn't know most of his patients' paychecks.
He knew for a fact he'd never taken care of Rumple, and Regina's curse had made him the richest man in town—the owner of Storybrooke. But he highly doubted Rumple drank fancy water often. He was probably drinking it now, since he was on a date, but Victor had neither noticed nor cared what the magic man was drinking. Very likely wine, considering what his girlfriend was holding.
The thought of Rumplestiltskin brimming with manly desire for a woman made Victor Frankenstein want to laugh his tonsils out. He choked on his drink, sputtering and shaking his head. Some of it came out of his nostrils. Real classy.
Victor could certainly envision women using Rumple for money…and maybe even finding his Death Eater personality extremely attractive. After all, good girls were so focused on being saints, they had a tendency to be driven towards shameless assholes. Had to do with yin and yang, balancing each other out, and the girl in question being amazed by a guy who wasn't trying so hard to impress society with his fake goodwill. If the good girls explored their dark side now and then, they'd have higher standards. It was psychology, which was a Science.
Victor got all tingly in the toes now, thinking of Science. Magic made him feel snooty, but Science made him such a happy geek.
But he could definitely see the brunette with a red streak being hot and heavy for Rumplestiltskin…He just could not understand how that…thing…still had proper body functions. Wasn't the Dark One curse something that made him less of a man and more of a…robot? Or anxiety disorder?
He couldn't see the couple, but as he anticipated Red, Victor wondered what if all the brunette saw when looking at the imp was dollar signs?
His newest nurse had cornered him just after he'd washed his hands. Wearing nothing but a patient's frock, she came up to him with it open and loose in the front so he could see a strip down. Her bare cleavage. He presumed further south also was bare, but he'd kept his head too high to ensure he hadn't seen anything.
In a seductive whisper, she'd waved a paper at him, faux tears sparkling in her eyes. "I've decided to put in my resignation. Now. Unless…" She'd paused and licked her teeth. There was a plainly artificial expression on her face. "Unless you…tell me you're madly in love with me and will buy me a present." She reached to yank for his pants to hoist him closer to her, but he'd slapped her hand away and left the men's bathroom, rushing to surround himself by people. Knowing she wanted to keep her actions a secret and praying he'd keep them like an oath.
Like all toxic people. Wanting to use you, they order you, "Don't tell anyone." Then someone asks, "Oh, are you into him?" The toxic person insists, "Of course not!" Twiddling her thumbs, hoping her secret would make the sincerest vow to cover her harassment and criminal behavior so no one would think less of her.
And hey, if her prey spilled the beans, she'd make up a story to make him or her sound insane rather than admitting she was that demented.
Lucky him, the nurse had actually turned in her resignation. On her way out, Dr. Frankenstein mused, "I take it things didn't work out with Jefferson?"
She made a face. "Well, he's handsome enough, but it's like someone cut his genitals off. When I finally found him, I tried fifteen times to get him to kiss me in the sexiest ways I had within me. He asked me if I needed an ambulance because I looked like I was combusting. I'm sorry, but…did that man really have a daughter? Because you put him in a room with a naked lady, and I feel like he'd offer her clothes."
Victor had tried not to laugh, but he'd failed. "Aw, come on. He just wants to free her from the Malfoys." One of his other nurses had told him about Dobby. Clearing his throat as he'd coughed on a laugh, Victor had muttered into his cupped hand, "Maybe he's gay."
"Oh! That's an idea…a sex shop should fix this!"
Victor had had a good guffaw at her expense with his receptionist, who'd witnessed the whole thing and had a few amusing comments to make to Victor when Miss Yellow-Green Eyes had left the building for good.
Unless she ended up in a sticky situation in which she'd need emergency care. It sucked being the only doctor available, because if someone he'd had a very awkward last word with nearly died, it was up to him to be the Prince Philip to slaughter the dragon and bring them back to health.
Not that he had many life-saving instances, but there was always a broken leg. Though what on earth a woman her age would do to break her leg was beyond him. Hit on some woman's husband and creep him out so much he accidentally shoves her out a window? Dr. Frankenstein rolled his eyes.
He doubted she was that desperate though, considering she'd been repulsed and scandalized when she'd assumed he was trying to suggest she dig her nails into Rumplestiltskin himself.
Where was Ruby? Victor tapped his foot under the table, his face going ashen as he glanced down at the floor, his stomach plummeting. She should be here already. He knew she wasn't going to not show up intentionally, because that wasn't who she was. Was Granny keeping her?
He decided he'd better call because he was starting to get worried there might be something actually wrong. He'd been keeping his mind busy because he knew "she'll show up soon", but now that he'd glanced at the time and realized they were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago, he was starting to lose interest in all but Red's whereabouts.
The diner phone rang three times before Granny answered.
"Hey." Victor ran a hand through his hair then asked, "Is Red busy? Granny's Diner bustling with activity?"
"You're her current conquest, eh? She told me you guys had a date tonight. Dr. Whale, right? I hate to tell you this, though…" She paused a moment. "I haven't seen her…in a few days now. I think she's off, sleeping her way to Boston or some such. Didn't have the balls to tell her Granny she was ditching her, how irresponsible! You're better off without her."
Victor's pulse beat hard in his wrist as he hung up. Listening to the ballet music pouring in the restaurant, he digested Granny's words differently than she'd intended him to.
Didn't bother to tell Granny goodbye? Whatever Granny thinks, Red respects her grandmother too much to do that. I guess Granny is too stressed out right now to notice, so she assumes Red is gallivanting around with deadbeats to get herself places…but…
He knew in his gut, the more he digested this new information, the more it broadened in his brain like an aneurism breaking him…someone had kidnapped Red.
He had to figure out how to save her. Somehow.
Not even thinking, he pranced right out of the restaurant, ditching his free water without a backwards glance at anyone. Looking quite pale. The waiter noticed, just fleetingly. He'd also noticed the phone call, but only briefly. He quickly put two and two together and deduced the doctor had an emergency client who was going to die if Victor didn't rush to his (or her?) aid instantaneously.
As Victor hadn't, the waiter didn't think he'd been stood up, nor did he spare another thought for the absent date because he had other thoughts preoccupying his mind. But if he had consciously thought about it, he would've concluded she was running late then Victor called her on the drive to the hospital to explain he wouldn't be able to make the date so they'd try another night.
Victor's head was a balloon full of helium. He hurried to his office then began to scribe a list of things he needed to do to find Red.
After all, she'd been missing a few days. He couldn't expect people to recall who she'd been with before she vanished, if he managed to track any down. He needed a smarter plan.
Of its own accord, his hand wrote "5. Ask the Dark One giddy giddy for a locator spell." Dr. Frankenstein thinned his lips then scratched that out.
No, he told himself. I will find her—without magic.
But for a fleeting moment, he couldn't stop himself from considering it…
"Hey, whatcha doing?" the receptionist asked, bouncing in the room on her way back from washing her hands.
"Someone is missing."
"Your date?"
"Yes. She's been kidnapped. I know because," he frowned as he read his list, "she's not afraid of confrontation. She wouldn't be avoiding people. Her grandmother informed me she left without a goodbye. That woman would never ditch her granny without telling her first and helping her find a worker to take her place. She isn't selfish enough for that behavior."
The receptionist read his list over his shoulder. "Those are all good ideas." She winced. "But if I were you…I'd get a cadaver dog…to check the forest. In case someone grabbed her…then killed her."
"No. No." Victor refused to think of it. "Not Ruby. Please no."
Tears pricked his eyes as he looked down at his list without reading it. Thinking of Red dismembered and deceased, alone, in that forest made him despise it.
Patting his shoulder, his receptionist promised, "I'll take care of that tomorrow morning, okay? It's just a possibility. Hopefully, I'm wrong, but if she is, the sooner we rip that Bandaid off, the better, don't you think? I know you really cared about her, and you're going to be a mess if she is…gone." She gave him a quick hug, just to offer him some human comfort, before running to get back to work. He was off-duty and therefore didn't need to do anything. Right now, it was the nurses who were handling any patients.
Victor had to refuse to think about Red being dead and instead focus on saving her life. Because thinking about her lying still with no potential for True Love's Kiss to awaken her did things to his insides that may have been unnecessary. At least, until he knew for a fact she was actually dead. Then he could break down.
Because to him, no other woman could be as lovable on the inside…or more desirable on the outside. Britney Spears could be looking at him with lips puckered for a kiss, eyes full of hot lust, and if Red were standing beside her, smiling and waving at him, all he would see is Red.
He'd never felt a bigger shade of blue inside than he did at this moment, knowing she was kidnapped. He sure as heck hoped that wasn't a sign she'd be purple when he saw her again.
If. If wasn't always good.