Once Upon a Time 1. Chapter 1

Once Upon A Time Was Wednesday

By EnigmaSphinx

A/N: Happy Endings aren't always happy for everyone. I got bitten by a particularly vicious plotbunny and here is the result. Rated M for future details/scenarios. Pairings: Rumplestiltskin/Belle, Rumplestiltskin/OC, Gold and whoever gets to him first, LOL.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this story except for my OC, Shayde. I am not making any money off this venture, just craving an AU where there's a little more action and a lot more angst. OUAT belongs to ABC et al.

Chapter One

The garden was awash in brilliant color. Bordered by immaculately cut box hedges, the plots of rich black earth had given rise to a veritable ocean of flowers. The elegant greenery was divided by pristine white gravel paths that shone in the sun, dazzling in their purity and perfection. The occasional tree that had been permitted to reach it's adulthood was filled with songbirds and butterflies fluttered from flower to flower in a ballet of silent beauty. Bees from the apiary at the farthest end of the garden bumbled with lazy industry, gathering nectar for the hive.

The caretaker looked over the garden and was pleased with her work. She was the only one who saw it anymore and so the effort of managing it paid off in her happiness. Only the glass windows of the castle reflected the view and she fancied that the dark building, grim and stark against the cloudless sky, appreciated the reflection of the glory of its environs. There was no master to look out at the gardens anymore but the caretaker tried very hard not to think of that fact. He was missed by her, if by no one else, and she couldn't quite shake off the feeling that he might be pleased with the work she'd done out here.

Outside took more work and contemplation than inside. There was no one to cook or clean for anymore. Aside from the basic maintenance of dusting and airing out various rooms on a schedule set long ago, she had little to do inside. Outside, nature was forever altering and undoing her careful tending and she had learned patience in caring for the plants, in preparing for the onslaughts of vermin or pests, and her will was made visible in the delicate order of the garden. Outside there was life and its ever-changing idiosyncrasies. Inside was dead and static, without change or deviation.

She missed her master. It was no longer fresh, the wound of his abandonment, but it was constant, He was gone, long dead and dust, his life taken by some stupid mortal ailment, but she remembered him well. Better than his predecessors, to be honest. He had been a decent master and she had liked him best of all the ones she had served prior. She belonged to the castle's possessor and her service was the only thing that the last master had asked of her. The previous ones had demanded more than that. They had wanted everything she held as her own but he'd been different. He had given her more freedom and taken less of her than any other so she recalled him fondly and with a sense of loss that never quite went away.

Walking along the graveled path, her feet made no sound in the silence. She followed the path to the fountain in the center of the garden and looked in at the golden fish that slid gracefully beneath the crystal waters. With a wave of her hand, she conjured a palmful of food and scattered it, amused by the sudden splashing as they fought over the tidbits. They made her smile and their mindless greed was entertaining.

A small sound alerted her to something strange in the garden. She lifted her head, her brows drawing together in concentration. What had just happened? Quizzically she scanned the area, looking for whatever might have caught her attention. No one came to the castle and certainly no one dared to broach the serenity of her garden.

A flicker of motion attracted her gaze. She turned and found a rectangle of light behind her. It appeared to be a doorway of some kind. As she stared at it in surprise, it flickered oddly and a small packet came through it. It landed almost at her feet, making her jump slightly. The moment it landed, the door winked out of sight.

Astonished, the caretaker stared down at the package, wondering where it had come from. She eyed the small bundle warily. After a few moments, when nothing happened and the odd door did not reappear, she picked up the packet and turned it over in her hands.

It was tidy, a square of sheepskin tied with a bit of milliner's ribbon, and on one side, the elegantly written label read "Open Me". The caretaker smiled a little and carried the bundle back into the castle.

She set the square on the heavy wooden table and gazed at it curiously. It wasn't going to open itself, she thought, and settled herself to explore the contents. With a quick tug, she untied the ribbon and unfolded the edges of the square. A neatly written letter lay atop a small stack of strange squares. She picked up the letter and her eyes fell upon the shiny squares beneath it. She uttered a small cry, half-horror and half-joy, snatching up the strange thing and squinting at it,

It was a portrait, painted in some fashion she didn't recognize, the lines so crisp and lifelike that she couldn't imagine the magic involved. Despite the beauty of its craftsmanship, she was taken by the portrait's subject. Her master, looking much as she'd last seen him, looked back at her. He was dressed in strange and peculiar garb, his normally tousled hair sleek and framing a face that looked as human as anyone in the village. He looked toward the artist but didn't seem to see him, for the cast of his eyes was far away. She touched the image reverently, half afraid that her fingers might somehow reach through the picture to touch him. When they didn't , she wasn't certain if she was relieved or disappointed,

There were other portraits of him only, some with other people. She studied them all wonderingly. Their clothes were all so odd, she thought, and the women were positively indecent. Their skin showed in nearly every picture, their hair unbound or cut so short that it was mannish. None of them had a proper retinue or companions. She glimpsed a carriage of some kind, obviously magical, as there were no horses to draw it. She puzzled over them all, lost to her own amazement and disbelief, until the light faded. Only when she'd waved the candles into lighting did she remember the letter,

Unfolding the missive, she read it aloud to herself.

My Dear Lady,

If you recognize the man in these photographs, I can bring you to him. I will reopen the doorway at the same time tomorrow. Come through it and I will reunite you with him. Your Obedient Servant…

The signature was a graceful "J".

The caretaker looked again at the portraits, (photograghs?) and her heart throbbed painfully at the thought of her master. In the many years he had been gone, she'd dreamed of the chance to see him again. Not as the sickly old man he'd become before his death, out of his wits with age and infirmity, but as he had been before he left the castle (and her) forever.

What magic would make such a thing possible?

She thought about it all evening and well into the night. By dawn, she had come to a decision and she set about preparing to enact it at once.


	2. Chapter 2

Once Upon A Time Was Wednesday

By EnigmaSphinx

Chapter Two

A/N: After I posted the first chapter, I realized that there are things I forgot to include in my notes. There are spoilers for the first season, episodes 1-22 and a something of an AU aspect as we have no canon for season two. This is simply filler for the long months until OUAT comes back. I've given Jefferson the last name of Milliner as I did not find a last name in canon.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of OUAT. The show and its characters belong to their respective owners. I make no money off this enterprise and I respectfully pay homage to the original creators with my little scribblings.

The caretaker dressed herself in traveling clothes; a simple gown and her leather boots, coupled with a cloak of her own making. She bound up her pale blonde hair, looking at her reflection in the mirror as she did so, wondering if she was perhaps too trusting in her decision to follow the mysterious J to wherever he claimed her master now was. Of course, she would go. The Dark Castle held her with only the most superficial bonds now that the master was gone. She had the freedom to travel if she wished; she merely hadn't bothered because there was no place that she wanted to go, no place that held interest for her. She sighed, tying off the braid she'd meticulously created and studying the end result. It would have to do, she thought to herself.

She moved through the castle, making certain that the place was secure. She didn't know how long she would be gone and disrepair seemed to go hand in hand with emptiness in houses. She made certain that the building was prepared for her absence, with all doors and windows magicked against intrusion. She stopped in the gallery, looking at the figures on their pedestals and the exquisite paintings on the walls. Here were the treasures of all her previous masters, collected over many lifetimes and displayed with a sense of ferocious possession. They were prizes, all of them, permanently maintained in this special room. The last master had only added one item here and he never visited it, unlike his predecessors who gloated over their conquests. The caretaker paused before the last installation and she sighed.

"Will you miss me?" she asked softly. "None of the others will, they've long gone mad in their imprisonment. You however, you are still in there, looking out from your place at all that can be seen." She looked at the statue. "You will be safe here. Nothing will get in. You know that nothing gets out, of course. Everything will be as it is until I return."

She wondered when or even if she would return. There were no guarantees. She didn't know who "J" was but then she was not without her own resources. It would be extremely difficult to prevent her from returning to this place if she wished it but not impossible. She closed the gallery, locked the doors physically and also magically, before gathering her small bundle. There was nothing to do but wait for the appearance of the doorway in the garden.

The door opened promptly when predicted. The caretaker watched as the glass-like pane rippled and a man stepped through. He was attractive, his face angelic beneath rumpled blond hair. His eyes caught hers and widened in surprise. She stared back at him without expression, waiting for him to speak. He gave her a courtly albeit tardy bow.

"My lady," he said pleasantly. "I see that you recognized the photographs."

She nodded. "I did," she replied. Her voice was low. "I am not certain of how you made those portraits but I know the face of the one I serve well enough. Is he the man or merely one who looks like him?"

"He is the same man," the stranger said. His words were honest, she could feel that but also the hidden truth behind them.

"And yet he is not, is he?"

"He comes from a different world," the stranger admitted. "One in which you were not in his life." He smiled sadly. "There are many different worlds and sometimes the smallest difference changes everything." He startled, as if suddenly recalling something. "Forgive me for not introducing myself," he said politely. "I am Jefferson."

The caretaker curtsied to him gracefully. "I am called Shayde," she said quietly. "It is a name without power, so do not think to compel me with it. My true name is my own. How will you take me to my master?"

"I have a magic hat," he said. "But the magic allows only even exchanges: if two pass through the hat, two must return. To take you with me, I would merely have to bring someone through and leave them behind while returning to my world with you."

Shayde considered the prospect. "That is not necessary," she murmured thoughtfully. "Items may pass without such a restriction, can they not? You sent me the letter yesterday and nothing was required to replace it."

"True."

Shayde smiled and held out her pack. "Can you carry this through the door?" she asked. Jefferson nodded.

"Items pass through easily," he said.

"Then carry it if you would." She offered him the bundle. "I need no more than a beacon to find my way."

"You can travel between worlds?" Jefferson asked with some surprise. Shayde's smile widened slightly.

"Aye," she replied. "I have my own gifts." She met his gaze. "If he is truly my master, I will reward you to the best of my ability, Jefferson. Whatever you ask of me, if it be within my power, I will make it happen."

"I want to change things," he said quietly. "There is so much unhappiness, so much pain…" His breath hitched in his chest. "He is part of it but there is another."

"Show me when I join you," she said, thrusting the bundle into his hands. "I will not be long behind you."

He turned and carried the bundle to the doorway. Shayde waited until the last moment, just as Jefferson was about to walk through the door and she vanished.

There was a terrible sense of disorientation, a whirlwind of madness that confused and baffled Shayde's sense of direction. It lasted only a moment but seemed as though an eternity passed until she caught the tether of her pack and followed it with all speed. She appeared next to the bundle, into a world where the air was thicker and heavier than anything she'd ever felt. There was a sharp foul taste to it, something she nearly gagged on, and she doubled over, clutching her stomach as she struggled to breathe, to collect herself.

"Hey," Jefferson said, catching her by the arms. Shayde let him hold her, leaning into his strength as she gasped and tried to orient herself. "Are you alright?"

"This world…" she said, coughing wretchedly. "This world is far from mine." She looked up at him through teary eyes. "I need a moment."

Jefferson urged her into a nearby chair. Shayde clutched the arms of the chair, her head spinning as she breathed shallowly and waited for the coughing to pass. Jefferson returned and pressed a cup of tea into her hand. When he saw that she was shaking so badly that the liquid sloshed dangerously in the cup, he helped guide it to her mouth so that she could sip it. His fingers were long and warm where they wrapped around hers. Shayde was grateful for his help.

"Are we in the right place?" she asked breathlessly when she could speak.

"Yes, Lady, we are. This is my home." Jefferson watched her with concern. "Can you tolerate it? Is this world so very different from your own?"

"It is full of iron," she said softly. "And the life of it is dulled somehow." She swallowed more of the tea. "But I can feel other things that are familiar. I think I will become more accustomed to it."

She looked around at the room she sat in and, while it was not the castle she was used to, it was a beautiful place. Jefferson watched her carefully, his eyes full of shadows when she looked back at him. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "I am grateful for your care."

"My pleasure, Lady." He flushed a little under her regard, a little embarrassed. "Please be welcome in my home," he continued, releasing her hand and straightening. "I live here alone and there is no one who will trouble you. I rarely have guests."

"I appreciate your hospitality." She inclined her head to him, smiling at him. "I accept."

He went to a window where a long cylinder stood on a three legged stand. Bending over, he peered into the narrow end of the tube and smiled. "Please, Lady, would you like proof of our arrival? Come, take a look and you will see the man you were seeking."

Shayde rose and joined him, following his movements. As she looked through the tube, she could see people moving about. She pulled back, looked out the window and realized the tube made far away things appear closer. She peeked again and her eyes caught sight of her master, standing with a blonde woman. They were obviously speaking but she could not hear them, only see them.

Her master's expression was perfectly clear. He was annoyed with the woman, it showed in the set of his mouth and the way he held his cane. Shayde noted that the woman seemed no happier with her master. They were obviously having a disagreement of some sort.

She let her gaze linger on her master. Despite the strange clothes and his pale human skin, she could see the edges of his aura and the magic that surrounded him. He was still himself, despite whatever glamour he'd used to look like the villagers. Shayde's heartbeat quickened as she watched him. She conjured up the image of his power, the dagger, and held it in her thoughts as she stared at him. Was he truly the Dark One?

No sooner had the dagger appeared in her mind, her master paused in his conversation and looked around with a frown. After a moment, he looked straight at her and she gasped, flinching away from the tube.

"What is it?" Jefferson asked with concern.

"It really is him," she whispered. "He is alive and well!" She turned to her benefactor and gave him a brilliant smile. "You have done exactly as you promised, my Lord! I am so pleased to see him!"

"I am glad that you are pleased, Lady. But you need not call me Lord. Here I am simply called Jefferson. No one uses the formal addresses any longer."

"Then I am merely Shayde. What else must I know before I can go out among these strangers, Jefferson? I do not wish to be embarrassed among them or to cast a pall upon my master's reputation through my ignorance." She reached out and took his hand. "Tell me more of this place and help me find my way in it."

He smiled at her. "I will show you everything I can," he told her. "And when you feel ready to see him in person, I will take you to him."

It was a complicated process. For two weeks, she did nothing but learn about the world that she was now in. Shayde struggled to grasp all the differences between the two worlds as Jefferson revealed them. Holding the information in her mind was often harder than she might have thought but she applied herself. She was careful not to use her magic, relying instead upon her wits and her determination. The social things were difficult and the differences between the world she'd left and the one she was in seemed nearly insurmountable.

Jefferson was a patient teacher. Shayde learned that he'd spent a long time coming to terms with this world and that his memories of what had been before conflicted with what was happening now. She learned of his daughter and the situation that had spawned what others called "his madness". Small wonder he was considered mad, given all that he'd endured. In payment for his careful tutoring, Shayde tended to his house and cooked for him while he worked on his endless collection of hats. Shayde enjoyed cooking for someone other than herself and she liked the convenience of the strange kitchen as well as the ease with which she prepared meals.

Shayde delighted in certain other elements of this new world. Television, computers, and even the music that Jefferson played for her made her heart race with excitement and fierce pleasure. She didn't understand the strange way that people dressed, although she appreciated the way Jefferson dressed. He showed her fashions on television and the computer, some of which scandalized her, but he ordered them for her anyway. She didn't really understand what happened when he ordered them until they arrived through the post. Jefferson gave her the packages and sent her to try them on.

She struggled into the items he'd given her, disliking the feel of the fabrics that lay closest to her skin. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she was horrified. The clothing was so thin and revealing! She could see her shoulders and her legs, the shoes had so little leather that she could see her ankles and her toes! She waffled before the mirror, mortified at her appearance.

"Well?" Jefferson called from the hall. "Do they fit you?"

"This cannot be the fashion," she protested, staring at herself. "I cannot be seen in public this way!"

"Let me see," he told her. "You simply aren't used to the styles. Let me judge."

She peeked around the door. "You'll be shocked," she warned, her moss green eyes wide with worry.

"I'm sure it's not as bad as you think," he assured her. Shayde stepped into the hallway and Jefferson's eyes widened. His mouth opened and closed without saying anything. Shayde blushed hotly.

"I told you," she exclaimed. "It's not proper!" She moved to duck back into her room but he made a strangled protest that stopped her.

"No, Shayde!" She turned back to him, finding him watching her with sudden intensity. "You look… beautiful." He nodded reassuringly. "You are absolutely perfect."

The expression in his eyes spoke more clearly that his words. Shayde hesitated, looking down at herself. Before she could bolt, Jefferson offered his arm. "Come, Shayde," he suggested. "You will look like anyone else in the village. Come and take a walk with me. I will show you how lovely you look."

Hesitating, she dithered a moment then accepted his arm. He smiled down at her and led her outside into the evening. "If anything unsettles you," he said. "Just lean against me and ask me if I want to go home. I will get you out of it. No one will question our relationship if you pretend that we are in a romance."

Jefferson escorted her into the village proper, down the stone walkways that bordered the darker road. It was early enough that the road had little traffic but there were other people strolling along the walkways. Shayde kept her hand tucked into the crook of Jefferson's elbow and let him lead her wherever he wished.

"Do you see how the men look at you?" he asked softly. "You are beautiful. The women are all jealous."

Shayde could feel the attention she was drawing. Jefferson was not deceiving her. The men that passed them looked at Shayde with smiles and appreciation but the women either looked aside or assessed her as though she was an enemy. Shayde could taste their feelings, a heady blend of interest and fear. She drew the emotions into herself, letting them feed her confidence. "Am I acceptable?" she asked Jefferson. "Do I truly look as though I am from this world?"

"You look more than acceptable," he assured her. "You look amazing," He looked ahead and his expression darkened. "He is on the street," he said quietly. "Are you ready to see him or shall we avoid him?"

She followed his gaze and saw her master walking toward them. Her fingers tightened on Jefferson's arm as her anxiety flared then she breathed in a deep breath. He will not know me, she reminded herself. But I wonder if he will want to. She smiled up at Jefferson. "Let us test the waters," she declared bravely.

They continued walking toward her master. He caught sight of them as they came nearer and he hesitated a moment, staring at Shayde without recognition. His eyes were dark brown, Shayde realized. Not the Dark One's otherworldly gaze but the earthen color of a man's eyes. That was not the only difference, she realized suddenly, for his eyes held appreciation as he looked at her.

Jefferson nodded to him. "Good evening, Mr. Gold," he said cheerfully. "It is a lovely night, isn't it?"

The master nodded his head, glancing from Shayde to Jefferson and back, "Lovely, indeed," he agreed. "It's a pleasure to see you out and about, Mr. Milliner. I don't believe I've ever met your companion before." He smiled at Shayde shamelessly. "I am Mr. Gold, my dear. What is your name?" he asked, offering her his hand.

She smiled at him, although her heart was pounding in her breast like a bird fluttering in a cage. "I am called Shayde," she answered, pleased that her voice was steady. "I am happy to meet Jefferson's friends." She laid her hand in his delicately.

Mr. Gold's eyes narrowed slightly at her answer. "What an interesting name," he murmured, his fingers tightening on hers. "Is it a nickname?" He had an accent that was becoming more pronounced the longer she listened. He shifted his cane and leaned upon it more heavily as he studied her. He still held her hand in his and Shayde's smile widened as she felt the warmth of his skin against hers.

"I fear it is not," she confided. She tugged her hand free of his and clasped her hands across Jefferson's arm, fingers entwined. Jefferson beamed down at her, playing the indulgent escort. She turned her face toward him and leaned against him, "Shall we continue our walk, Jefferson, or would you rather return home?"

"I was showing Shayde the sights of Storybrooke," Jefferson explained to Mr. Gold. "She hasn't had much of an opportunity to explore since her arrival. I've been quite possessive of her time and attention." He smiled down at her.

Something flickered across Gold's face, a shadow of expression too quick to read, and his knuckles whitened on the handle of his cane. He paused for a moment then nodded pleasantly. "Of course, don't let me keep you," he said politely. "I was just on my way to Granny's for a drink. Perhaps sometime you will join us there while you are in town, Miss Shayde? Certainly before you leave, that is."

Shayde shrugged. "I suppose we might go there, if Jefferson wishes," she said. "I'm not leaving any time soon, am I?"

Jefferson shook his head then lowered his lips to her brow. "I'd be happy to take you there, darling, but there's plenty of time. I expect you'll stay with me for quite a long while yet." He smirked at Gold. "Please excuse us, Mr. Gold, and I will hasten to take Shayde home before she's too tired."

Mr. Gold nodded agreeably, his eyes turning toward Shayde with sudden intensity. "I hope that you enjoy your visit to our township, my dear," he said quietly. "If you are interested in learning anything about the history of the town, do be sure to stop by my shop. I have many quaint and curious items that relate to the past."

"I will be certain to do so," Shayde agreed. She clutched Jefferson's arm a little tighter, letting her flaxen hair fall forward to cover her face. She didn't trust her expression to hide her feelings and the excitement of standing so close to the man that she remembered so well was playing havoc with her senses. Jefferson wrapped an arm around Shayde, nodded to Gold, and they began walking back the way they had come.

Shayde felt her master's, er… Mr. Gold's eyes following their retreat.


	3. Chapter 3

Once Upon A Time Was Wednesday

By EnigmaSphinx

Chapter Three

A/N: I'm writing this story for myself and sharing it for anyone who might also be interested. Reviews are nice, they always fan the flames of creativity, but unnecessary. This story is just something that wouldn't let me go. Spoilers for everything aired which is all of season one, but I will take some liberties with things. Don't flame me for anything that doesn't live up to your fantasies, this one is mine and lives up to my illusions.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of OUAT. The show and its characters belong to their respective owners. I make no money off this enterprise and I respectfully pay homage to the original creators with my little scribblings.

Back in Jefferson's opulent house, Shayde turned to the Hatter with glee. "Oh, you are brilliant!" she exclaimed. She laughed aloud. "Did you see his face when you said you were possessive of my time and attention? He doesn't know me, but the draw is there!" She sobered a little, laying her hands on his chest and looking up into his eyes, "I believe he is the one, my friend. Have you thought of the favor you want of me?"

"You aren't certain yet," he answered gravely. "Once you are certain, then I will ask a favor of you."

Shayde frowned. "Are you certain you wish to wait?" she asked. "Grace grows no younger and you are still cut off from her. I can make it so that she is yours again."

"How would you do that?" Jefferson frowned down at her.

"There is magic enough in me to take her from the people she lives with, to erase her memories of them and bring her to your side. You can take her and leave then. As you alone possess the hat that travels between the worlds, your enemy cannot follow you, can she?" Shayde shrugged. "As for your enemy, perhaps I could change her into something less dangerous?"

"No," Jefferson protested. "Until Regina is vanquished, the danger is greater than ever for Grace. She's safer as Paige, living the life she has now than with me, Regina wouldn't have activated the forget spell if she wasn't trying to salvage her power. I am still useful to her and she wouldn't hesitate to harm Grace to make me help her."

Shayde considered that and her natural sympathy made her respect Jefferson's concerns. "As you will then," she told him. "But I have promised you whatever you ask within my power to grant and I will honor my bargain."

"There are still many things you need to know," Jefferson said. "And I will teach you so that you can move among the people of Storybrooke without concern. The only people you need be concerned with are Regina and Emma Swan, the sheriff. She can tell a truth from a lie and she is destined to free us all." He smiled at Shayde wistfully. "Perhaps when we are all free, my daughter and I can escape to your world."

"If you like," Shayde agreed.

"Until then, consider this your home, Shayde. You have been alone a long time and so have I. At least we get along well and I prefer your cooking to my own." Jefferson grinned, "I am glad to have company after so many years."

Shayde was grateful for the company as well. Jefferson was not a difficult man to live with. He still labored on his hats, unable to give up on crafting them after so many years of trying to make his hat work. Even though he possessed the original, he was still compelled to make more. Shayde recognized that feeling all too well. She missed her garden at home and the routine that she had followed for centuries. In the meantime, she could mind Jefferson's house for him and make the land outside prettier for her time spent with him.

Days passed as she learned more about this strange world. She grew comfortable with the clothing Jefferson bought her and his house began to change under her ministrations. It grew less sterile and homier as she altered rooms to make them warmer than before.

Outside the garden changed as well as flowers crept into the beds and trees reached taller than before. The land was rich enough to support Shayde's efforts and she liked being outside in the sun, her hair tucked up under a hat made for her by Jefferson and her skin taking on a warm sun-kissed glow. It was during one afternoon, while she was digging in the flower bed, that she met the Sheriff.

A shadow fell over her as she maneuvered the last of a series of rosebushes into place. Shayde looked up in surprise, squinting against the sun to see who stood there. Her hands were covered in rich black dirt and a streak of it was smeared across her cheeks, making her green eyes brighter in contrast. The shadow moved aside until the light fell across the woman's face. Shayde smiled up at her.

"Good afternoon," she said to the stranger. "Can I help you?"

"I'm not sure," the stranger said. "Looks to me like you have your hands full."

Shayde eased the bush into the waiting hole and pushed dirt around it to hold it in. "Sorry," she said politely. Rising to her feet, she eyed the woman cautiously. "Have we met?"

"Not yet," the woman answered tersely. "I'm Sheriff Swan. I was just coming to check on Jefferson."

"I'm afraid he's busy at the moment," Shayde said thoughtfully. "Can I offer you something refreshing, Sheriff Swan?" She hesitated. "Oh, you're Emma!" she exclaimed. "Won't you come inside? I am certain that Jefferson won't mind taking a break to say hello." She brushed her hands off on her jeans carelessly.

"I'm fine, thanks." The sheriff eyed the house warily. "I'd heard that Jefferson had a guest and I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay."

"Everything is going quite well," Shayde assured her. She gestured around the yard. "Do you think this will turn out as an improvement? Jefferson doesn't seem to worry much about his landscaping."

"It looks promising," Emma said slowly, taking in the new plants and the neatly trimmed hedges. "You certainly have a knack for gardening."

"I've had lots of experience." She smiled at Emma. "I'm called Shayde," she said cheerfully. "I'm sorry that I didn't introduce myself. Please forgive my lapse of manners. I would shake your hand but…" She presented her grubby hands. "I wasn't expecting guests."

"You have a last name, Shayde?" Emma asked.

"I do."

There was a lengthy silence until Emma cleared her throat awkwardly. "Ah, and what is it?" she asked at last. Shayde looked at her in surprise.

"My last name?" she asked. Emma nodded. "Oh, it's Moil," she said with a laugh. "Shayde Moil."

"That's an odd one," Emma said. "I've never heard of it before."

"And none too attractive either," Shayde agreed. "Which is why I hardly ever use it." Emma eyed her curiously. Shayde smiled at her, wondering if Jefferson's warning had been correct. The sheriff might have a sense of untruth from Shayde's words but there wouldn't be enough for her to be suspicious of. At least Shayde didn't think there would be.

"Well, if everything is alright," Emma said at last. "Then I have other visits to make." She hesitated however and Shayde kept her expression friendly and blank while the woman was watching her.

"Don't let me keep you," she said to the officer. "I am certain that you have many responsibilities."

"Yeah." Emma glanced at the house and back to Shayde. "If you ever need anything," she said quietly, holding out a card. "Feel free to give me a call. I will be happy to help." Shayde took the card and glanced at it before tucking it into her pocket.

"Thank you, Sheriff. How very kind of you."

She watched the woman walk back to her patrol car and drive away. She turned her attention back to the flowers she'd planted and watered them from the long green hose while she considered the conversation.

She was still deep in thought when the sound of an automobile pulling up in the drive pulled her attention away from her work. A woman got out of the car, not Emma but a stylishly dressed woman with dark hair and a petulant expression. Shayde watched her as she started for the door.

"Excuse me," Shayde called out to her. "Can I help you?"

The woman hesitated, frowning at Shayde for a moment then dismissing her. "No," she said sharply. "I'm here to see Jefferson." She started back for the door. Shayde recognized her from Jefferson's lessons. This was the Mayor, Regina, the Evil Queen. That she had come to see Jefferson meant something was afoot and likely something bad. Shayde aimed the hose across the steps, cutting off the Mayor's progress with a jet of water. The woman screeched, springing back to avoid getting wet. "Watch what you're doing!" she yowled.

"Oh, I am," Shayde said calmly. "Jefferson is quite busy," she continued, "He asked not to be disturbed. I am sorry, but you'll have to come back another time."

"I need to see him now," the Mayor snapped. Shayde shrugged.

"I am so sorry," she said in a polite voice. "You'll need to set up an appointment, ma'am. I fear he cannot be disturbed at this time."

The brunette stared at her in open mouthed surprise. "Do you have any idea who I am?" she demanded.

"Mayor Mills, isn't it?" Shayde asked. She smiled sweetly. "So?"

"Who the hell are you?"

"The person holding the hose," Shayde replied. She flicked the end of the hose so that water splashed closer to the Mayor. "Consider me Mr. Milliner's secretary and chatelaine. Come back another time, preferably tomorrow or some other day." Or never, she thought.

"Well." The mayor huffed. "I never…!"

"Perhaps you should," Shayde suggested lightly. "Might improve your mood." She smiled wider as the Mayor blustered for a moment then turned and retreated to her car. Shayde waited until the auto pulled away and disappeared down the road before rinsing her hands under the water and turning off the hose. She put her gardening things away and went into the house to prepare dinner.

Jefferson was waiting in the living room, grinning. "My, we are popular today," he observed lightly.

"I should say so," Shayde agreed as she went into the kitchen to wash her hands properly. "Two guests in one day. We haven't entertained anyone in the whole time I have been with you. Jefferson." She recounted her conversation with both women as she dried her hands and gathered things together for dinner. Jefferson laughed aloud at the incident with the Mayor.

"So you've met both Emma and the Mayor," he mused. "What did you think of them?"

"I liked the Sheriff but I can't say the same for the Mayor." Shayde shook her head. "I don't remember her or anyone like her in my world, Jefferson. Do you mind that I kept her out?"

"Not at all." He paused thoughtfully. "I don't want her to bother Grace so I will have to see her sometime."

Shayde said nothing but her thoughts wandered over how to insure Jefferson's peace of mind. He had so little of it that she wondered if she couldn't make it better. She could certainly make it difficult for the mayor to get to Jefferson but his daughter was a different matter. She would have to be cautious if she wanted to protect the little girl from the older woman's malice. It wouldn't do to make too many enemies until she learned what side her master was on.

After dinner, she washed up the dishes and went to her room, leaving Jefferson to look through his telescope at Grace's house. She ran a hot bath and stripped off her clothes before gratefully sinking into the tub. She thought about her master as she soaked in the heat, considering the idea that she would have to confront him eventually. He had not sought her out and time was passing. She needed to see him, to find out if he was indeed the person she hoped he was.

Floating under the water weightlessly, only her face above the water, she thought about the dagger. So easy to picture it in her mind's eye, to remember the curved and elegant blade, the name blazoned on its length. She knew every inch of the knife by heart. It called to her as it called to him, just as loudly here as ever before. In her world, the dagger was broken, shattered by the kiss of a stupid mortal girl. Here however, here it was whole and it was nearby.

She saw Mr. Gold's face as he'd been on the street. He looked like a man but the dagger was still in his possession. She'd seen his aura flare black with the power of the Dark One. He was as cursed as ever he'd been even though he hadn't recognized her. She wondered if his name was the same. The name appeared in her memory and as she savored it, Gold's face sharpened in her mind's eye, his expression turning dangerous. She felt a building pressure as he sought her mentally. Rumplestiltskin, she thought loudly, and she felt his shock through the tenuous link.

Oh, yes, it was definitely the same name.


	4. Chapter 4

Once Upon A Time Was Wednesday

By EnigmaSphinx

Chapter Four

A/N: Still having fun with this story and getting back into the swing of writing regularly. I may not be able to carry on the daily postings but I will post whenever I finish a section. My muse is not as reliable as I would sometimes wish. There is more Gold in this chapter though, and he's a challenge.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of OUAT. The show and its characters belong to their respective owners. I make no money off this enterprise and I respectfully pay homage to the original creators with my little scribblings.

Shayde and Jefferson went into town on the next Saturday. Given the warm weather and the eminent arrival of summer, a garden show had been announced. Shayde donned a breezy dress of cream-colored cotton that showed the new sun-kissed glow of her skin and a wide brimmed straw hat to shield her from the heat. Her soft pale hair was simply pulled back into a knot at the top of her neck. Jefferson didn't wear his customary black; instead he wore a pair of brown slacks and a camel colored shirt with an ascot of the same fabric as Shayde's dress. His vest was an elegant leather one, with brocade on the lapels and pockets. Shayde admired his appearance with a radiant smile, sensing that he was a little anxious about going out among the townsfolk.

"You look wonderful," she told him. "I will suffer the envious looks from many women with you beside me."

"And I will have to fend off many men, I suspect," he said gallantly but his eyes strayed toward the door of his workroom. He feared leaving his hat making and being surrounded by people. His 'madness' troubled him, a loss of control that he was very reluctant to share with anyone. Shayde knew of it because she lived with him but she understood what he had endured that made him so vulnerable, which in turn made it easier for her to care for him when he was too caught up in his memories to find peace.

"The house is safe," she said softly. "I promise you that." He smiled a little self-consciously and clasped her offered hand.

"I know," he agreed. "Have you ever eaten cotton candy, my dear Shayde?" he asked lightly as they walked outside. "Or had a fresh funnel cake?" She gave him a skeptical glance.

"Why would I eat candy made of cloth, Jefferson?" she asked him. "And what is a funnel cake?"

He laughed at her, not bothering to explain.

The town square was full of gaily decorated booths and colorful lights and streamers. People moved among them, laughing and talking, while children ran from one side of the square to another. Shayde walked beside Jefferson amiably, her hand tucked in the curve of his arm while she looked about herself with wonder. Aside from the many flowers and plants displayed, there were other crafts as well and she could smell the tantalizing aroma of exotic foods. A sweetness was in the air, something she hadn't ever encountered before, and Jefferson chuckled as he led her directly toward it.

The person behind the booth smiled at them. He stood behind a large circular contraption that looked like nothing Shayde had ever seen before. His blue eyes crinkled at the edges when Jefferson held up a finger. "I'm just changing colors," he told Jefferson. "This one will be mixed a bit." He poured a measure of sugar into the contraption and it made noise when he flicked a switch. Shayde watched in fascination as the machine began to work, creating threads of the sugar, light as air. The man tending it took a white paper tube and began to catch the threads on the end like a spindle, swirling it around and around the circular machine. The threads were pink, blue and lavender, swiftly spooling into a fluffy cloud.

Shayde was amazed. "It is beautiful," she said to Jefferson. "But it's not made of cotton at all. It's all sugar!" The man behind the counter laughed aloud.

"Haven't you ever had cotton candy?" he asked. Jefferson paid for the treat.

"She's been deprived of one of life's greatest pleasures, Mr. Nolan," he said gravely. "She's never had funnel cake either but I hope to rectify that before day's end." Mr. Nolan grinned.

"Mary Margaret is manning the funnel cake booth in a couple of hours," he confided, "She'll be happy to get a new customer." His gaze went back to Shayde, brows lifting in expectation. "Are you going to try it?" he asked teasingly.

Shayde hesitated, looking at Jefferson for direction. He grinned at her, pulled off a fragment of the treat and fed it to her. The moment it touched her tongue, there was a burst of sweetness and the treat was gone. Her eyes widened in shock and the two men laughed at her reaction. Shayde blushed at their amusement.

"What's the joke, boys?" someone asked from behind her. Shayde turned around to find a young woman grinning at the men. The girl's long black hair had streaks of crimson in it and her eyes were far older than her face. Jefferson explained the situation and the girl turned to Shayde with an expression of pity. "That sucks," she said emphatically. "Were you raised on some sort of restrictive hippie diet? Where your parents didn't let you have any fun? Let me guess, no white wheat, no sugar, no alcohol?" Her red lips pursed in thought. "Gotta say it's done wonders for your skin though, sweetie." She stuck out her hand. "I'm Ruby."

Shayde accepted her handshake with a smile, "Shayde," she introduced herself. "Pleased to make your acquaintance." Ruby grinned and turned her attention to Mr. Nolan. "David, have you seen Emma? Leroy's making a fuss over at the diner and it's getting awkward."

As if in response to her name, the blonde sheriff appeared in the crowd. She approached them with long strides, her eyes intent as they traveled over Shayde and Jefferson. "Hey, Ruby, David," she said off-handedly. "Surprised to see you here today, Jefferson." The hatter's smile turned a little sheepish but Emma's attention had shifted toward Shayde. "Ms. Moil," she said with a nod.

"Please, Sheriff, call me Shayde. As I said, I have no real love for my last name." Emma's brows rose slightly but Ruby interrupted whatever comment she might have made.

"Emma, can you come to the diner? We have a Leroy problem."

"Sure," Emma said. She looked again at Shayde and Jefferson then walked off with Ruby. Jefferson snagged a piece of the cotton candy and ate it before offering Shayde his arm. David Nolan waved them off and they continued to explore the square.

They hadn't gone very far before the Mayor appeared, her perpetual scowl darkening at the sight of Shayde on Jefferson's arm. As she drew near, her lips curved into the semblance of a smile but there was something in her eyes that spoke volumes about pettiness and pain. "Jefferson!" she exclaimed in artificial surprise. "How nice to find you here!"

Jefferson stiffened automatically. Shayde felt the tension run through his arm and she caught sight of his face out the corner of her eye. He maintained a casual smile but Shayde sensed that he was concerned. She squeezed his arm lightly, reminding him that he was not alone. "Mayor Mills," he said politely. "Always a pleasure."

She stepped closer, her perfume heavy as it wrapped around them both. "I stopped by to see you the other day," she confided and her eyes cut to Shayde with contempt. "Your little friend wouldn't let me see you." She pouted coquettishly. "I have something to talk to you about, a matter that I need your help with."

"Yes, Shayde said you'd dropped by," Jefferson said. "But I was busy and had asked her not to disturb me. I'm sorry I missed you." His tone said something quite the opposite of his words and Shayde nibbled a piece of the cotton candy to keep from laughing aloud. The mayor didn't smile as much as she smirked, knowing that the hatter wasn't happy to see her at all.

"No matter," she said cheerfully. "Seeing as you are here now, I'll borrow you for a moment and give you the details…"

He hesitated, torn between Shayde and the mayor. "I was enjoying a day with Shayde," he said reluctantly. "We've only just started to explore…"

"I am sure your little friend won't mind you gracing me with your presence, Jefferson." The mayor emphasized the word 'gracing' a little, smirking more openly when Jefferson flinched. Shayde smiled up at Jefferson.

"I can look around while you are helping the mayor," she told him gently. "I wouldn't want to be responsible for her worry lines getting any deeper by keeping you with me." The Mayor's eyes widened at the jibe then narrowed dangerously.

"Careful, dear," she hissed. "You have no idea who you're playing with!"

Shayde turned her gaze to the woman before her and her eyes were suddenly a sharp clear green. "Don't I?" she asked silkily, her expression turning icy. "I may not know you, Mayor Mills, but neither do you know me." Her voice was soft, without any inflection, but it carried a sense of malice that made the dark haired woman hesitate.

"Who are you?" the mayor demanded, Shayde said nothing, merely staring at the mayor with her strange green eyes, "Where did you come from?"

"Wherever I wish," Shayde replied. She held the woman's gaze until her opponent had to look away. "And I will allow you a little time with Jefferson but careful how you treat him. I will be offended if you ruin his day off."

She let go of Jefferson's arm and allowed him to step away with the mayor. The brunette cast her a look of loathing but Shayde ignored it, turning her attention to the cotton candy in her hand. The treat was still tasty and she savored it as she savored the mayor's anger and fury. The flavors were intoxicating and heady.

"Careful, dearie," a voice whispered at her shoulder, so familiar that she shivered in pleasure. "You're taking quite a risk with that one."

Turning, she found Mr. Gold standing beside her, leaning on his cane and smiling enigmatically. His brown eyes bored into hers with avid interest. "Good afternoon," she said to him pleasantly. "Mr. Gold, isn't it?"

His smile widened a fraction. "I'm delighted that you remember me," he said lightly. "You look lovely today."

"Kind of you to say so," she replied. "And how could I forget you? You were the first person I met after coming here."

He glanced in the direction that Jefferson and the Mayor had gone. When he looked back at Shayde, there was raw appreciation in his eyes. "Seeing that your escort is otherwise occupied, perhaps I can offer you my company until he returns?"

"What a kind offer," she mused. "That might be just the thing, Mr. Gold, to save the day." She was astonished when he offered her his arm as Jefferson had and she laid her hand on the crook of his elbow without a second thought. The fabric of his suit did nothing to hide the wiry strength of his arm from her fingertips and she let him lead her through the crowd.

She could feel his curiosity and his interest swirling around her as they walked. She could also feel the stares of people they passed; the crowds were full of speculation and dislike. The former was directed mainly at her, the latter at him. He ignored the people as a whole, walking beside her as though she was the only other person in the world. It was a heady experience, having his attention to herself, but she didn't know what to say to him that wouldn't cause more difficulty than already existed.

"As I recall," she said at length. "You said that you owned a shop here in town, Mr. Gold. Are you a merchant then?"

He chuckled. "Of a sort. My shop is a pawnbroker's."

She frowned. "Forgive me," she said. "I don't know what that is."

He gave her a glance as if to verify that she wasn't joking. "I lend money to people who cannot gain loans from elsewhere. Those I lend to give me goods in pledge for the money. If they don't pay me back, I retain their merchandise and sell it to recoup my loss. If they want their goods back, they repay their loan with interest."

"Ah," she exclaimed. "You make bargains with desperate souls, then."

He hesitated. "I suppose you could say so," he replied carefully. She nodded to herself, pleased to have understood. Her satisfaction lasted only a moment. Turning a corner between two booths, she found herself staring at a group of women dressed in dark clothes. They were selling candles and sachets of herbs. Shayde caught the scent of the herbs in the sachets and her stomach lurched violently.

"Is something wrong, dearie?" her escort asked. His gaze followed hers and his lips twisted in distaste. "Nuns," he scoffed darkly. He looked at her and his expression turned to concern. "What is it, dearie?"

"I hate nuns," she whispered, staring at them. One of the women looked at her then and Shayde felt the shock of recognition jolt through the woman just as it swept through her, Their eyes met and Shayde saw the nun's mouth thin with hate. "Please," she said to Mr. Gold urgently, clutching his arm with anxious fingers. "Please, can we go somewhere else?"

"Certainly." He led her away without another word.

She barely noticed when he led her from the square and down the street. Pausing at a door, he took out a set of keys and opened the door to let her in. She stepped past him into a shop full of strange items. The strong scent of lanolin lingered in the air, almost refreshing after the foulness of the nuns' booth. Shayde breathed it in, calming herself.

"Is this better, dearie?" Mr. Gold asked. He was watching her intently. Shayde nodded.

"Much better," she sighed. "Thank you."

Mr. Gold smiled at her again but this time his smile was that of a wolf looking at a particularly tasty lamb. "Good," he said pleasantly. "Perhaps you'll be so kind as to tell me what your real name is. Shayde is pretty but it's not your real name, is it?"

She tilted her head slightly to look at him in the eye, "It's as good as Gold," she answered carefully. His expression darkened.

"I understand that your name, as you gave it to Sheriff Swan, is Shayde Moil," he said. "But that's not quite true either. What is your name?"

"I've already told you…"

"Who are you?" he demanded, slamming his cane against the counter. He was growing impatient, his aura shifting darker with each passing moment. "Answer me!"

"No." Shayde took off her hat and her hair fell over her shoulders in a curtain of platinum strands. "I am not obligated to, Mr. Gold," and she stressed his name to let him know that she knew it for a lie. "Despite my gratitude for your assistance."

He stared at her, a muscle in his cheek bunching as he clenched his teeth. She watched him without expression, waiting to see what he would do. She knew when his thoughts strayed to the dagger and to the power it held. She felt its hold on him and the drive it spawned for more power. Names were power and the drive of the dagger made his natural curiosity swell as he considered that she withheld her name from him. For a moment, she could see him as he had been- the shaggy hair, the golden skin and gnashing teeth- and her heart ached for it to be real instead of a memory.

"You know who I am," he said sharply. The rage in his voice chilled her. "I do not understand how you can, but you do."

"Yes, Rumplestiltskin," she admitted quietly. "I know you well."


	5. Chapter 5

Once Upon A Time Was Wednesday

By EnigmaSphinx

Chapter Five

A/N: Hullo, readers… I apologize for the wait between updates. I was having some issues with my regular computer and have had to resort to using my hubby's system. It doesn't particularly like me either so please bear with me as I navigate his alien technology. I hope this installment pleases you. I was pretty happy with it, all things considered.

Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT, that is the privilege of ABC et al. I do not own Rumplestiltskin but I'd rather like a shot at possessing him a little or putting fingerprints on him a lot. LOL. I do own Shayde but she doesn't acknowledge ownership very well.

Mr. Gold's eyes bored into Shayde's. No flicker of reaction, no gleam of recognition, no response to her words, just a flat challenging stare. The silence between them deepened into awkwardness.

At length, Shayde tilted her head and looked away. Not out of intimidation but simply because she didn't feel the need to be the victor in a staring contest.

"Well, dearie," she heard him say in a deceptively benign tone. "Perhaps you'd care to elucidate?"

So casual an invitation, issued so softly, and yet the atmosphere was anything but casual. She sensed the thrumming of his power filling the silent room, recognizing the threat to herself. She took off her wide-brimmed hat, letting her platinum-fair hair fall in waves over her shoulders before lifting her face to him. She didn't bother to maintain her semblance of humanity, instead allowing him to really see her.

"Do I need to?" she asked simply.

"You're a _fairy_?" he asked incredulously, disdain dripping from his words.

"No, I'm not." Shayde blinked at him. "And never would be." She sighed. "I'm Fae, an older and much hardier breed."

Gold's eyes flickered over her assessingly. "The Fae are long gone," he said, "Stories fairies tell themselves of a time when they were…powerful."

She couldn't resist a smile. "Fairytales, indeed," she remarked. "But, in this case carrying only a fraction of the truth. Look at me, Rumplestiltskin, look at me and know the power that I possess."

He did as she asked and she watched the expressions flicker over his face, finally settling into curiosity. "How has a Fae survived?" he asked "And how do you know me?"

She considered the question carefully. At length, she answered simply. "A curse." She shrugged. "Technically two curses, but who's counting?"

"The gods know," he said sharply. "Explain, dearie, and quickly. My patience wears thin."

"It's not a tale that can be told quickly."

"Begin anyway, "he commanded Shayde looked him in the eye.

"I don't think so," she said.

Gold's aura darkened even as his anger showed on his face. "You say you know me," he said silkily. "If that were so, you'd know the inadvisability of defying me."

"And if you were the man I remembered," she shot back. "You'd know better than to speak to me so." She stared at him coldly. "You are, I suppose, capable of any manner of unpleasantness, but I am not a whimpering fairy to cower at your threats. You may do whatever you like to them, I care not, but I am Fae and I can defend myself." She smiled mirthlessly. "I need neither wand nor dust to damage you."

"Is that so?" Gold's eyes were changing, as he spoke and Shayde could see his skin taking a different cast.

"It is," she agreed calmly. "I know what you are able to do. Can you say the same?" She bared her teeth. "By the time you took up the Dark One's curse, all the Fae had died and only the weakest of their kind remained. You never faced anyone like me. Your predecessors did and the dagger did its job on the Fae courts. Tir-nan-og's corridors rang with grief until they were at long last emptied." She paused, considering for a moment. "But that was three dark ones before you, I believe," She continued, ticking them off on her fingers. "So, no you never faced anything more savage or powerful than the little glitterlings."

"How do you know?" He asked her warily.

"I am not ready to discuss this." Shayde gestured toward the door. "Another time, perhaps." He still stood between her and the exit.

"I think not." He planted his cane more firmly and held his place. "I would prefer we discuss this now. How do you know me?"

"I am not compelled to answer you," she said. "Therefore I will not."

She watched as he ground his teeth, the muscles of his jaw bunching and releasing. When his thoughts went to the dagger, she knew it for his aura went utterly black. She waited for his next move.

"I can compel you," he threatened, and waved his free hand. She saw the violet glow of power at his fingertips a moment before unseen fingers closed around her throat. They tightened, cutting off Shayde's airway, choking her.

She didn't react. Despite the choking sensation, she kept her eyes on his. Summoning the mental image of the dagger, she focused on it and drew hard upon her will.

The invisible fingers at her throat fell away. Her attacker's expression darkened. He gestured again but Shayde's concentration on the dagger prevented the magic from touching her.

The room was becoming oppressively hot. Shayde felt the third attack coming and she let in come. Instead of stopping it or turning it aside, she absorbed it. She felt herself change as the power filled her, the last of her humanity vanishing under the rush of raw magic.

Gold's eyes widened in shocked surprise.

Shayde caught sight of herself reflected in a mirror on the wall. She looked like a goddess, dressed in rags. The pretty sundress was a cheap covering for her radiant flesh, her hair shone with incredible light. He eyes were like emerald stars, lit from within by her spirit.

"I cannot be forced," she whispered. Her words rang clear in the stillness. "You simply give rise to my own power with yours." She smiled, showing teeth that were sharper than human, whiter than pearls. "Do you want me to forget myself and take back the nature I have tried so hard to suppress?" She combed her fingers through her hair sensuously, watching Gold's eyes. "You do not know what I am or what I can do. Dark One you may be but you have no idea of my abilities."

He stared at her, his aura still black but unable to maintain itself. Moments later, it was normal and he stood gawking at her, almost completely human. "Who are you? Just tell me who you are."

Shayde softened at the look on his face. "There you are," she purred, stepping closer to him. "There is the man who plunged the dagger into Zuso's heart to protect his son." She breathed in, tasting his emotions- desperation, fear, defensiveness, and licked her lips. "That is the you I remember best." She reached out and touched his hand where he clutched his cane. "I, too, am drawn to desperation, Rumplestiltskin, and yours was the sweetest I ever tasted."

So close to him she felt the heat of his body against her own, Shayde lifted her face to his. Gold's eyes were wide, the dark brown depths full of confusion and concern. Shayde smiled and kissed him.

She gave him back his power with that kiss, letting it spill into his shocked mouth as her lips touched his. His free hand caught the back of her head, holding her as the kiss deepened, but Shayde didn't pull away. She swayed closer still until their bodies were touching and her hands pressed against his chest. He was real and she marveled at it after so long without him.

The kiss broke and he drew back a little, staring at her. She stared back, unapologetically.

"You taste like cotton candy."

She almost laughed at the observation but his expression was so stunned she couldn't. Instead she pulled away from him but his hand in her hair stopped her.

"Don't"

She stilled, waiting.

'Why did you give it back?" he asked at length.

"Because," she sighed. "That's not what I want from you."

"What do you want?" he asked more gently, his fingers sliding down the nape of her neck to rest upon her bare shoulder. "Just tell me…"

"Are you trying to bargain with me?" She stepped out of his reach. "Old habits die hard, don't they?" She gestured, taking in the contents of his shop, lips quirking into a smile. "Or not at all, I suppose."

Whatever he might have said was interrupted by a sharp rapping at the door. Gold muttered something that might have been a curse and unlocked the door, opening it to reveal Sheriff Swan standing on the sidewalk. "Sheriff," he said politely. "What a surprise…"

The blonde quelled him with a glare as she crossed the threshold. "I was looking for Ms. Moil," she announced abruptly. Turning her attention to Shayde, she assessed the woman with a careful look. "Jefferson was looking for you. Are you alright?"

"Oh, quite well," Shayde reassured her. "Mr. Gold was kind enough to allow me shelter in his shop."

Emma's eyes darkened slightly. "Shelter from what exactly?"

"Oh, I felt unwell passing one of the booths in the square," Shayde said vaguely. "I must be overly sensitive to the sachets they were offering. Mr. Gold brought me here to recover." She gave Gold a brilliant smile. "Thank you for your kindness."

"My pleasure, Ms. Moil," he replied. "Perhaps you will come visit my shop again under less stressful conditions."

"That would be delightful," she agreed. "But I should get back to Jefferson. I hate to think I've caused him any worry. "She turned her attention to the Sheriff whose cynicism was blatantly obvious. "Do you know where he is now?"

"I'll escort you to him, shall I?" Emma flicked a look at Gold that promised a future conversation and followed Shayde out of the shop. The door closed behind them with the faint tinkle of a bell.

Emma walked with Shayde for a block before turning to look at her, stopping their progress.

"You have anything you want to tell me?" the sheriff asked. Shayde's brows rose in surprise.

"What do you mean, Sheriff?"

"Lady," Emma said her tone matter of fact. "I don't know exactly what's going on but I am damned certain that something's up. The mayor wants me to investigate you; you're living with Jefferson, having arrived out of the blue from who knows where. No one in town knows you except for him and, I think, Mr. Gold. I know for a fact that your little exchange back there was a load of …crap."

Shayde frowned at that. "I don't know what that means," she said cautiously. "But I believe you are calling me a liar, aren't you?"

"You and Gold both." Emma huffed in annoyance. "Gold's deceptions I'm familiar with," she continued. "But you… I don't know you and I don't think I can trust you."

"What reason should you trust me?" Shayde asked. "As you just said, you don't know me."

"Why are you here in Storybrooke?" Emma asked bluntly.

"I am here for a visit," Shayde answered. "When my stay is over, I will leave. I have no intention of violating any laws or statutes. I intend no harm to anyone in your jurisdiction…" She held up a finger before Emma could speak. "With the exception of irritating and annoying the Mayor, should she continue to bother Jefferson." She paused, thinking for a moment. "Does that make you feel any better?"

Emma pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Well," she remarked. "That was the first completely honest thing you've said to me." Her eyes held Shayde's for a moment then she shrugged, turning back toward the town square. "Jefferson is worried about you."

Jefferson jumped to his feet when he caught sight of them, relief in his eyes. "Shayde," he exclaimed, enveloping her in a hug. "I was afraid you'd gotten lost!" She felt his agitation and was remorseful.

"I'm sorry, Jefferson," she murmured in his ear. "I did not realize you had returned." She pulled his concern from him, letting him feel easier and calmer. "All's well, isn't it?"

"Yes," he said, letting her go. "I promised you a funnel cake, remember?" He looked over her head at Emma. "Thank you for your help, Sheriff."

"No problem." Emma checked her watch. "Mary Margaret will almost be done at the funnel cake booth I promised I'd stop by. Mind If I come along?"

Mary Margaret Blanchard was a petite sweet-faced woman with shining eyes who smiled graciously at their arrival. "Emma! Glad you made it!" Her expression dimmed slightly when she noticed Jefferson. "Oh, Mr. Milliner, I didn't expect to see you here." The man looked slightly embarrassed.

"Ms. Blanchard," he murmured. "It's nice to see you. Are you still making funnel cakes?"

"Yes, I am. Would you like one?"

"Shayde's never had one before," he told her, grinning mischievously. "And I was told by Mr. Nolan that you make the very best."

Mary Margaret blushed at the complement and grinned at Shayde. "Seriously? You've never had a funnel cake?" At Shayde's rueful smile, she shook her head. "We can fix that right away. I'll make you a fresh one."

She picked up a pitcher of batter and a metal funnel then moved over to a pot of hot oil. Pouring batter through the funnel, Mary Margaret dripped a lacy design into the oil. When she was satisfied, she set aside the pitcher and funnel then used a slotted spoon to turn the cooking confection over. Only a few moments later she lifted the golden cake from the oil and plated it. She glanced at the new comer.

"Would you prefer powdered sugar, or cinnamon sugar?" she asked. Shayde shook her head.

"I don't know," she said. "What do you recommend?"

"Cinnamon sugar," the dark haired woman said at once Shayde smiled.

"I'll try that, please."

Mary Margaret sprinkled the requested topping generously over the cake and presented the finished product with a flourish. Eyes bright, she leaned forward eagerly. "Tell me what you think," she invited.

Shayde tore a piece off the fried treat and dutifully popped it in her mouth. She chewed it cautiously. Her eyes closed as she savored the flavor like a sommelier tasting a new wine.

"Well?" Jefferson prompted, boyish enthusiasm in his voice. Shayde opened her eyes and looked up at him solemnly.

"That is heavenly," she said in a reverent tone. "I can't imagine anything better." She gave Mary Margaret a brilliant smile. "Thank you very much."

They were still standing there when David Nolan joined them. Mary Margaret had finished a funnel cake for Emma and the conversation was pleasant, filled with laughter and flirtation.

Suddenly Shayde felt a wave of weakness sweep over her. She staggered slightly against Jefferson, catching his arm. He looked down at her with concern.

"What is it?"

Before Shayde could answer, someone said "Ms. Blanchard?"

"Mother Superior?"

Shade found the nun she'd seen earlier now standing next to Mary Margaret, holding out a little bag and smiling. "A gift for you," she said, opening the bag to show the contents to the dark-haired woman. "Thanks for your help with the candles on Miner's Day."

Shayde felt her stomach lurch violently at the scent from the bag. Horrified, she watched as Mary Margaret lifted out a prettily sewn muslin bag, exclaiming over it in delight. Shayde clenched her teeth as she fought back nausea. When she looked toward the nun, the woman's eyes held triumph and loathing. "What scent is it?" Mary Margaret asked, lifting it to her nose.

"Morning Glory," the nun said, watching Shayde as she spoke. "And feverfew."

Shayde felt a spark of fury that helped her push back her rising nausea. Both were supposed to repel the Fae and the nun's gift was an unspoken warning. As if a fairy might have a chance against a Fae! Like a gnat attacking an eagle, irritating but utterly futile. She forced herself to stillness, her eyes boring into the nun's as she gathered her will and cast her magic out.

A crack of thunder exploded overhead.

It was so sudden and loud that people ducked their heads, more than a few crying out. Mary Margaret yelped, hurrying to turn off the fryer, and Emma rushed to help as the sky overhead darkened ominously. Shayde registered the brilliant flash of lightning that preceded the next roll of thunder. People began scrambling for cover, shouting as the wind picked up with unexpected violence. Clouds roiled overhead, shifting the blue sky to a sickly pewter that turned to an ominous black in moments. The air chilled, the prior warmth of the afternoon leeched away by the impending storm. Horror dawned in the nun's wide eyes and Shayde smiled at her, a slow smile of victory as she leaned against Jefferson. _Didn't expect that, did you?_ She thought smugly. _I'm able to fight back._

Although she said nothing, Shayde was gratified when the nun turned and fled toward her sisters. "I suppose it's time to go home," she said to Jefferson wistfully. "And I was just starting to enjoy myself. What a pity."


	6. Chapter 6

Once Upon A Time Was Wednesday

By EnigmaSphinx

Chapter Six

A/N: Is everyone having fun? I certainly hope so. A little history in this chapter, just so that you understand the world this takes place in.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of OUAT. The show and its characters belong to their respective owners. I make no money off this enterprise and I respectfully pay homage to the original creators with my little scribblings.

As quickly as the sky darkened so ominously, it cleared and the celebration picked up again. Shayde and Jefferson opted to go home, despite David and Mary Margaret's invitation to go to Granny's and continue their conversation over something more substantial than cotton candy or funnel cakes. Emma Swan watched them go, her eyes speculative, before turning back to her roommate. The sheriff made her excuses shortly after and went about her business.

It was a while later that she finished with the town fair and made her way to Granny's for some food. She was unsurprised to find that Mary Margaret and David had already left the diner but her gaze fell upon a slender man sitting in a booth alone, Emma walked over to him, finding Mr. Gold staring out the window, his fingers lightly grasping a glass of what looked like whiskey. As Emma's shadow fell across him, Gold looked up with a wistful smile.

"Sheriff Swan," he said politely.

"Mr. Gold." Without waiting for an invitation, Emma slid into the other side of the booth and waved a hand at Ruby. "I'll have what he's having," she called over. Gold's eyebrows rose about a half inch closer to his hairline. Emma focused her attention on him, giving him a smile. "Weirdest damn weather today, wasn't it?"

"It was odd," he agreed as Ruby brought Emma's drink to the table. She also brought the bottle and placed it quietly next to the glass before hurrying off. Emma picked up her glass and tipped it slightly toward Mr. Gold.

"To your health."

"And yours," he replied, copying her gesture. They each took a sip and Emma gasped at the sharp taste.

"Woo," she said hoarsely. "Good stuff."

Gold's smile deepened. ""Indeed," he said agreeably. Emma took another swig of the whiskey and shook her head.

"So," she said, studying her glass. "What are you thinking about this evening?"

"Well…" Gold fell silent, looking at his own glass thoughtfully as silence fell between them. Emma took up the bottle, refilling her glass.

"Deep thought, that," she observed drily. The comment startled a low laugh from the other side of the booth. Emma smiled faintly, watching the ice swirling in her drink with hooded eyes. "What's the deal with Jefferson Milliner's new girlfriend?"

He shook his head. "She seems a nice enough young woman."

Emma didn't look up from her glass, instead running her finger around the rim thoughtfully. "Really?" she murmured. "Nothing else?"

"I'm not certain what you mean," Gold said.

"Yes, you do." Emma continued to run her finger around the glass' rim, her attention fixed on the action. "I am hoping that you will be honest with me, Mr. Gold. I have a pretty good idea that you know what she is even if you aren't _exactly_ sure who she is. I am damn certain that she knows you." She looked up as she delivered the last line but Gold didn't flinch. He met her questioning gaze with his calm dark eyes, his face enigmatic.

"I don't see how that's possible, Sheriff. She's new in town, after all."

"I don't know," Emma admitted. "Sometimes, in Storybrook, people _forget _the oddest things. Sometimes the strangest things at the most peculiar times…" She watched him as she said it, feeling out his reaction. He studied his own drink for a long moment before lifting it to his lips. "It's weird," she continued. "Almost like magic, I guess… Or should I get three guesses?"

Gold choked on the swallow of whiskey, sputtering as Emma watched him without concern. He lifted his eyes to her face, peering at her through tears. She arched one brow at him, dangerously close to gloating. "Well," he whispered, his voice rough. "I didn't see that coming."

She leaned toward him conspiratorially. "Good. Because if you didn't, then there's every chance Regina didn't either."

**Several Months Earlier**

Emma leaned down toward her son's ear. "Henry," she whispered. "If the curse is broken, why didn't everyone go back?"

"I don't know," he said. The nurse in the room dropped a tray, the metal clattering on the hospital floor. Emma turned to her at once.

"Is everything alright?" The nurse didn't answer, her gaze riveted upon something outside the window. Emma followed her gaze and saw huge purple clouds approaching. Like the Nuees Ardente of an active volcano, the advance of superheated gases and ash that signals the eruption, it swept between the houses and down the streets. "What the hell is that?" she asked. Henry, who had come to stand beside her, answered.

"Something bad."

Emma tugged her son away from the window, tearing her eyes from the approaching cloud. Part of her simply wanted to watch it in wonder (was _that __magic_?) but the rational part of her brain was desperate to escape that oncoming danger, to hide her child and keep him safe. She dragged him into a supply closet and pushed him to the floor, ignoring his protests as she put herself between him and the door. If that cloud was dangerous, she would take the brunt of it before she let her son suffer.

Moments later, she felt it hit the building. Not a physical blow but something that shuddered over her skin and keened in her ears as the pressure in the room changed. Henry cried out, panicked, but Emma held him tightly, her eyes closed as the sensation roared through her for what seemed like an eternity. She couldn't see or hear anything except the sound of her heart pounding in her ears.

After a while, she opened the door cautiously and peeked out. People were standing where they had been, frozen in place, as the purple haze swirled outside the window. It was in the room as well, a faint filmy presence in the air, and Emma's nose wrinkled as she caught a scent that teased her memories. Where had she smelled that before?

Before she could answer that, there was a silent explosion somewhere, everywhere that shivered over Emma's skin and into her bones. It lasted only a moment and was gone. She shuddered, wondering what was coming next. The haze was already dissipating, but there was still a tremor that set Emma's teeth on edge. She turned to look at her son. Henry was sitting where she'd left him but there was a strange look on his face, his eyes staring into space without really seeing anything.

"Hey, kid," she called out to him. "What is it?"

"I fell," he said dully. "I fell off the playhouse at the playground…"

"When did that happen?" Emma asked.

"I hit my head. That's why I'm at the hospital." His eyes turned to her, still vague, almost dreamy. "My mom is coming to pick me up."

Emma helped him to his feet but it was like shifting a sleepwalker. Henry staggered to his bed and she helped him get into it, watching him worriedly until he was settled. The nurse who'd seen the purple cloud first was still staring out the window, as still as a statue. Emma went over and touched the woman's arm.

"Hey," she said to the nurse. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," the nurse answered in the same dreamy tone Henry had used. "The mayor will be so worried about her son. I'm glad it was nothing serious." She focused on Emma's face, becoming more animated. "Sheriff Swan," she continued, as if seeing Emma for the first time. "When did you get here?"

Minutes later, Regina came into the room as though nothing was out of the ordinary. She rushed to Henry's bedside, her face a mask of distress. No one said anything about her appearance. Even the Mother Superior greeted the mayor politely, without any reference to her earlier threat that Regina should find a place to hide. Emma realized that something had changed and she assumed that it was the magic of the Evil Queen at work. She quickly made her expression dull and slowly pretended to come to herself as Regina doted on Henry. If Regina looked at Emma any differently, Emma kept her expression as blank as possible and Regina took Henry home.

**Present Day**

Emma knocked back the rest of her drink and grinned at Gold. "I'd like to talk to you about this but I don't think this is the place, do you?" she asked with a conspiratorial wink. He shook his head and downed the rest of his.

"My dear Emma," he said. "Would you perhaps be kind enough to see me home? I would truly love to discuss this with you further."

"Why, Mr. Gold," she said lightly. "Are you inviting me to see your etchings?" She batted her eyes at him flirtatiously. "I'll be happy to walk you home."

**At Jefferson's house**

Shayde had set about preparing dinner while Jefferson went back to his workroom for a little while. She cooked in silence, lost in thought, as she bustled about the kitchen. Only when dinner was ready for the table did Jefferson join her again.

"You went to see him," he said suddenly. Shayde looked up from her dinner in surprise.

"I did," she agreed. "Were you watching?"

"No." He studied her, his head tilted a little to one side, his eyes intent on her face. "You're different somehow. Did he hurt you?"

"Not at all," she exclaimed. "Why would you think that?"

"You don't seem happy."

"Ah, well, that," she said softly. "He didn't know me." She reached for her glass of wine and sipped it. "I'm fairly certain I know why now."

"Oh?"

"I think that, in the world he comes from, your world, I must be dead. Just as he is dead in my world."

Jefferson looked horrified. "Why would you think that?" he asked, aghast.

"It's complicated," she demurred. "And I might be wrong."

"How can you find out?"

"Ugh." Shayde grimaced. "That would entail visiting the nuns. Sadly impossible, I fear."

"What do you have against the fairies?" Jefferson asked, pouring her more wine. Shayde slanted a smile at him, her eyes a brilliant green.

"Aside from the fact that they are annoyingly insipid little busybodies who use their meager magic to grant wishes and confer favors in the hopes of hiding the reality that they are really backstabbing cannibalistic bitches without souls?" She sipped her wine. "Not much, I suppose."

Jefferson, who had made the mistake of sampling his own glass, choked and spluttered at her reply. "Would that be a whole species then?" he asked when he'd caught his breath.

"As a whole species," she agreed somberly. "They have tried to hide their history from the people they choose to help but it doesn't change what they really are." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "The legends are out there in this world," she continued. "I looked them up on your computer. People know how dangerous they are, they just don't understand the reality behind the legends."

"What do you mean?"

Shayde sat back in her chair, cradling her wine in her slender fingers. "Oh, my dear Jefferson," she said. "I was born Fae. A half-blood, mind you, but Fae all the same. The fairies spring from the Fae but never equaled my kind. Trust me when I tell you that no mortal court has been as rife with cruelty and corruption as the Fae courts. They never liked low born Fae and they really despised half-bloods." She peered into the depths of her glass darkly. "How fortunate for me that I was both."

"You are related to the fairies?" he asked her. "You don't like them because they treated you badly?"

"I am only related to them by my mother. She was little more than a courtesan in the Unseelie or Dark Court. There are fairies that descend from the same line, just as some descended from the Seelie or Light Court." Shayde shrugged. "The names really don't mean anything anymore. The Dark Court was supposed to be primarily opposed to the human race, prone to doing evil and malicious things to mankind. The Light Court could be benevolent but their gifts were often cruel or tricky. They didn't have much use for mortal morality." She sighed. "My mother took mortal lovers when she pleased and she ruined many a man's life when she tired of him. I have no idea who or even what my father was, only that he gave me a gift that made me more unwelcome among my mother's people than my status or my tainted blood." She smiled mirthlessly. "Somehow he made me immune to iron."

The hatter frowned at her. "But I thought iron was deadly to fairies. Was it deadly to the Fae?"

"Indeed it was," she admitted. "They didn't know at first that I could touch iron and live. My mother found that her lover wanted a mortal child and she exchanged me with some one's baby. I should have died soon after, most changelings do, but I didn't. I grew older and stronger in my little village." Shayde smiled as she remembered her childhood. "The Fae didn't realize that I'd lived until much later. I discovered the village smithy and I learned to work iron in the forge. I have the strength and endurance of my mother's people and I mastered the working of iron easily. I was able to imbue iron with my own natural magic, things like needles that threaded themselves or pots that would never boil over or dry… Simple things, really, until I started making weapons. That is when the Fae realized that I was still alive and doing something they didn't want me to do." She shifted uncomfortably. "I made a few things before they realized how dangerous my magic was. I made an arrow that never missed its target, a sword that kept its edge no matter how heavily it was used. The Fae found me and they threatened me."

Jefferson leaned forward, watching her face. "You were making things that were deadly for them."

"Yes. And there is great power in handling something so deadly to others but not suffering for it. The things I made, they couldn't hurt me. Not only were they iron and weapons, but I was immune to them as well. Iron will not kill me. I can be hurt by it but not permanently. I will always recover."

"What happened, Shayde?" her companion asked. "They had to stop you, didn't they?"

She closed her eyes and told him the rest of the story.

"There was a Dark Fae who threatened to punish me if I didn't stop working iron and giving mortals Fae-magicked items. I didn't listen. I was young and stupid. To teach me a lesson, he killed the smith's son and placed him as a warning to the village. The smith killed himself in his grief and the village was in turmoil. I was so angry and vengeful that I made…" She shuddered. "No matter that. The Fae imprisoned me as a result, forcing me to pay for my crimes against them forever. Eventually the Fae died out, leaving only the fairies behind with their vapid wands and chirping optimism. The Light and Dark courts are gone, but I am still imprisoned by the curse they laid upon me. I will be until my master frees me." She opened her eyes and they were full of grief and loss. "I am so very old," she confided. "But I almost forgot that today." She smiled at him. "Thank you for that."

He smiled back at her. "You are welcome, Shayde. I enjoyed my day with you as well."


End file.

Once Upon a Time, Angst, Hurt-Comfort