[center][img=http://i33.photobucket.com/albums/d94/Malfoys_one_and_only_girl/240x160StorybrookeGold.gif?t=1407788619][img=http://i33.photobucket.com/albums/d94/Malfoys_one_and_only_girl/Signatures/240x160Henry.gif?t=1407732235][/center]
[i]Many, many years ago…

Pacing back and forth, The Dark One kicked up a pile of crunchy autumn leaves that littered the openness of a dead-end street, as if impatiently waiting for something…or someone. He had spent only just a few weeks with the new title, trying to understand what being The Dark One really meant, and how he was to control all this new, frightening power. 

One thing was certain, however. His wardrobe of the filthy rags and patches barely afforded by being the village spinner were now long and gone, and in its wake a new sense of style that Rumpelstiltskin found to make him feel more threatening, more imposing; not at all the look of the village coward he had branded himself with since returning from the Ogre Wars.

He wore a reddish/gold silk shirt, on top of that a tight-fitting black, dragon-hide leather vest that extended into black leather sleeves. Even more tight-fitting were the brown leather pants he wore, and then the black boots to tie the outfit all-together. That was all hidden though, a blood red cloak covering his entire body with the wide hood draped so far over him that the shadows of the night couldn’t even do their job as to hide his face.
Certainly anything would be an upgrade from those rags he previously wore, but there was still something a little bit more satisfactory about the fact that he had procured these new clothes by magic himself, and it made everyone in the village see him differently, like a wolf ready to pounce and tear their throats out. The look of The Dark One.

It wasn’t a wild assumption since his anger was on that very verge every day since Milah and Baelfire had been stolen from him. He was almost always angry, except for the times when grief overcame him whole-heartedly and locked himself away in his home, crying into the corners of the empty house. But those days were long gone; not a single tear dropped since he plunged the dagger into the chest of The Dark One. Now all that was left was anger and a father’s determination to find his wife and daughter, wanting nothing more than to bring them back home and split the pirate in two that had taken them from him. 

He was there for one reason and one reason only. A pirate’s ship had made port at the docks not an hour ago, and Rumpelstiltskin was waiting. Finally, after what seemed like hours, there was a loud uproar of drunken laughter, and Rumpelstiltskin knew he had his man.

As the pirates paraded down the slick cobblestone streets, Rumpelstiltskin made a point to hunch himself over, with the added look of the dark red cloak, he could have easily been mistaken as a beggar. He clumsily walked past Killian Jones, the pirate captain that had called him a coward and refused to give back his family and bumped into him. 

Rumpelstiltskin could practically taste the blood of this man on his cracked lips in his eagerness.

“You!” Killian shouted at the man he proposed was a beggar. “Stop!”

Rumpelstiltskin obliged, stopping in his tracks with his hunched over back facing the pirate, the need to grin tugging at his cheeks.

“Even gutter-rats have more manners than what you just displayed.”

Rumpelstiltskin took his time in turning so that he was profile to the pirate band, the side of his green and gold-flecked skin catching the light of a nearby lamp post.

“I-I-I’m so sorry sir.” Rumpelstiltskin purposefully stammered.

Killian snickered, taking in the small amount of appearance of the man in front of him to be strange, ugly, and in need of poking fun at.

“Ah, I was wrong…” Killian started, taking a few steps towards the beggar. “…not a rat at all. More…more…more like a crocodile!” He exclaimed, turning to his crew to see that they were all in agreement with their drunken laughter. Killian then took one step further and swatted his hand at the beggar, causing the tin cup of coins in his hand to clatter to the ground in a tinkering mess.

Rumpelstiltskin immediately hunched himself over onto his hands in knees, acting as a beggar would if his tin cup of money had been swatted to the ground. He had no need for this money of course, it was all an act to fulfill his revenge.

“What’s your name-” Killian asked, putting the bottom of his boot on Rumpelstiltskin’s back and kicked him over harshly. “-crocodile?”

Rumpelstiltskin fell over, acting the part of a feeble old man as he clamored to get himself back up but was unable to suppress a high-pitched giggle by the time he got back onto his feet. He heard the pirates’ laughter diminishing, no doubt confused of the laugh that just came from the old beggar, and Rumpelstiltskin pushed the hood of his cloak back so that it was resting back on his thin shoulders, revealing his face to the band of pirates.
Killian kept his smile and raised a finger, pointing to Rumpelstiltskin.

“You…I remember you…”

“Always nice to make an impression.” Rumpelstiltskin replied, flipping one of the coins he had managed to grab from the floor onto Killian’s chest in a slight taunt. Killian looked to the coin with dark eyes, and then looked back to Rumpelstiltskin who had just put his hand over his heart.
 
“Where are my manners? We haven’t been properly introduced.” Rumpelstiltskin removed his hand from his heart and extended both arms out wide, almost looking like he were expecting a hug if it hadn’t been that he lowered his torso and bent his legs into a deep bow. 

“R-r-r-r-rumpelstiltskin!” He said, letting the ;r' roll off of his tongue while still keeping his head down in the low bow but then he looked up, keeping his body bent and looking up at the pirate with the tops of his eyes and his brows stitched together in a glare. “Or as others know me…The Dark One…”

This seemed to get a reaction from the pirates, no matter how drunk the ones behind Killian were. Each took a few steps backwards, looking between themselves in horror as if silently trying to confirm with the other what they had just heard. Killian, however, didn’t move, but Rumpelstiltskin could see a bit of color drain from his face. Rumpelstiltskin took it a step further, coming out of his bow and stepping to Killian’s side, making a sort of ‘boo’ sound at the pirates that were behind him and smiled in amusement as they scattered like rats.

“I see my reputation precedes me.” Rumpelstiltskin went on, now walking behind Killian directly, not exactly surprised that the pirate captain didn’t turn to face him. 

“It does.” Killian replied, all hints of the amusement he had held pushing the old beggar around now completely gone.

“Good!” Rumpelstiltskin squeaked. “That’s going to save us time during the-“ He paused to change the quip in his voice, sounding now like an immature child. “-question and answer portion of our game!” He was still behind Killian now, facing the pirate captain’s back. He was so close, that Rumpelstiltskin could easily reach out and touch him, but he refrained, wanting his close encounter with the pirate to make his skin crawl instead.

Killian dared to crane his neck to look over at his shoulder at The Dark One, finding the ill-skinned man smiling broadly back at him with his two pointer fingers pointing up to the air.

“What is it you want to know?” Killian asked, slowly finding himself to turn to face the crocodile.

“How’s Milah, and Baelfire, of course?” His tone had changed again, that to what could almost be considered a normal tone for a male, however coming from The Dark One, it dripped of darkness and anger.

Killian bit at his lower lip, in thought for a moment before shaking his head no slightly a few times.

“Who?” He asked, and then couldn’t help but to flash his white smile at the man. Rumpelstiltskin mockingly giggled at Killian, and started to circle him again.

“Only too happy to uh, [b]dig out[/b] the memory-“ He said, gesturing with his thumb like it were a spade in a garden. “-but, it gets reeeeealy messy.” He turned to face Killian again, having come full circle and now able to see the crew hiding (at a great distance) behind their captain.
Killian looked down, not because he was afraid to look back at The Dark One, but because something perplexed him.

“They’re dead.” He said suddenly, and Rumpelstiltskin immediately felt his heart jump into his throat and catch on fire at the same time. “Died a long time ago. Baelfire fell overboard during a storm, and Milah went in after her.”

Rumpelstiltskin’s face matched the sorrow that Killian had on his own, and there was a slight silence between the two of them before Killian spoke once more.

“What is it that you want?” He asked calmly and quietly, still giving respect to the spoken departed.

Rumpelstiltskin took a moment to answer, but when he did, his voice sounded very normal, not like The Dark One, but of Rumpelstiltskin, the spinner.

“We never got a chance to finish our duel.” He reminded the pirate. The duel of course that Killian challenged him to when Rumpelstiltskin had heard that Milah and Baelfire had been taken aboard his ship, the duel that would have released them from his holds, but also the duel that would surely end his life with his inexperience of fighting pirates.

Killian’s hand immediately shot to his hip where he kept his sword, and Rumpelstiltskin could hear the grinding of metal on sheaths from the rest of the pirate band behind him. He simply held up a hand, signaling them to stop with a quick “Ah!” from his throat.

“Not now…” He explained, and the sadness that had taken over him physically washed away as Rumpelstiltskin put on a showy display with his arms, an Italian flourish. "...tomorrow at dawn!" His left arm bend at the elbow and extending up at the sky while his right arm lay horizontal beneath it, the elbow of his left arm inches above his right hand. This gesture easily melted into placing his left hand over his heart and his right holding his stomach. “…I am not a cruel man, get your affairs in order.” He went on. 

“Also-“ Rumpelstiltskin returned his right arm to his side and took a step forward, pushing his left hand finger into Killian’s chest. “-you can spend tonight knowing…” He paused to let his eyes widen, like a child discovering a delicious secret. “-it’ll be your last!” Rumpelstiltskin giggled again, like a child.

“Maybe I am cruel.” He said softly, more to himself than to Killian. “And don’t think of trying to escape-” He added on, taking his other step so that he and Killian were practically chest to chest, however with Rumpelstiltskin’s shorter stature, his chin only came to the pirate’s shoulder. “-because I will find you, and I will [b]gut[/b] your entire crew - like-ah dee-fy-sh!”

The threat caused Killian’s eyes to darken, and then recede into something Rumpelstiltskin could recognize at once as sheer terror, despite the masculine front he attempted to put up, and Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t help but to smile in the pirate’s face that wasn’t more than four inches away from him.[/i]
------------------------
The sound of the bell tinkling into the air pulled Mr. Gold from his thoughts, causing him to set down the far from new, poorly stitched together teddy bear back on it's place on one of the back shelves behind the counter. With his long hair framing the side of his face, he was forced to turn his head to see Henry walking into his shop with something of purpose. Had it been anyone else in Storybrooke that had come in at that time, it would have warranted them a quick threat to get out, but as it was Henry, Mr. Gold couldn't help but to press his thin lips into a sort of smile.

"They say curiosity killed the cat, and yet here you are." Mr. Gold stated blatantly, eying Henry from across the room with just the one eye visible since his hair had a habit of curtaining the other. This he fixed though with a gentle toss of his head, having his hair rest naturally at the sides of his face once more.

Henry was silent as he strode up to the counter, nearly stopping dead in his tracks at Gold's comment. [i]'What does he mean by that? Curiosity killed the cat...that can't be coincidence - or is it?'[/i] He thought to himself worriedly, though he let his expression remain calm. "'S'cuse me? I don't quite know what you mean." He said aloud, sounding quite innocent in tone. 

Mr. Gold put his relaxed hand out, palm up with his shoulder shrugging ever so lightly.

"Why, your new-found relationship with the Mayor of course..." Mr. Gold replied as if it were obvious what he was referring to in the first place, however that same, knowing smile lingered on his lips.

"It's not a [i]relationship[/i]." Henry countered coldly, not bothering to ask the pawnbroker how he came across such knowledge - with Henry's luck, half the town probably knew by now; maybe even more. 

"But that's beside the point. I came to talk to you about Sn--the Jane Doe." He added, nearly slipping the name of Snow White but catching himself at the last second. 

"Oh?" Mr. Gold quirked a curious eyebrow, letting both his hands now rest on the edge of the counter. "Did she ask you to read another book?"

"Oh...you're [i]quite[/i] funny. I'm surprised you didn't pursue a career in stand-up." Henry replied dryly before returning to the topic at hand. 

"Nothing's *happening*. I read to her and get nothing, no movement, no reaction whatsoever." He said tiredly, running both hands through his hair. 
Mr. Gold kept his one eyebrow raised and managed a sort of snort/laugh through his nose.

"Yes, I do believe that's what coma patients do Mr. Carlyle. Or do they do things differently in New York?" He shook his head 'no' lightly and turned his attention to a mummified dragonfly in a glass case that had been sitting on top of the counter.

"You gave me this damnable book for a reason, Gold. And you told me *what* to do with it and what the requirements were. Now what are you keeping from me?" He hissed, tapping his foot impatiently. 

"A mere suggestion is what I gave, for things to do in our little town since you had decided to come and visit. Nothing more." Mr. Gold retorted, raising his voice just a little bit higher in volume as to drive a point. He set the glass box back down, done examining the dragonfly and then finally looked back to Henry, taking a pause to lick his lips quickly before asking with a pointed finger, "What are [i]you[/i] suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting--" Henry began, leaning in over the counter, "that you're not who you say you are...Dearie." He finished with an almost ferocious look in his eyes. 

Mr. Gold's eyes were keenly trained on Henry's, his face firm and unforgiving, letting on that he had absolutely no idea what Henry was talking about. And then, a smile, followed by a breathy laugh.

"I figured a man of your...background...would have realized that the ink your dearly departed sister used with her quill...which she got from me by the way, wouldn't translate well over into this world...Cat."

Henry looked Gold -- no...Rumpelstiltskin up and down quickly, the corner of his mouth twitching as he tried to hide a shocked expression. "But [i]how[/i]?! The memory potion-" He drifted off, his eyes filled with...nervousness. 

"-which you cast away without a second thought!" Mr. Gold interrupted him, flicking his wrist with the phrase 'cast away.' His voice had risen again in volume, irritation creeping it's way into his dialect, only growing more and more as he continued on. 

"And now, your job is only that much more difficult. The potion was to serve as means to break this curse. [i]Not. For. Me![/i] And now, since it is [i]gone[/i], thrown away in your [i]selfishness[/i] of getting back at [i]me, you[/i] are going to find [i]another way[/i] to bring Snow White and her Prince Charming...back...together!"

"All in due time." Henry replied, letting his tone go calm again. "You may have all the power in the Enchanted Forest, but [i]here[/i]...we're on equal footing. Now you're gonna tell me what you gave my sister. And don't presume to lie your way out of this, I talked to the Queen herself, and I have [i]answers[/i]." He proclaimed in a growling voice, letting his emotions get the better of him. 

Mr. Gold raised his cane a bit in his grip so that he was holding it in the center, the handle eye-level in which his own eyes were upon as he twisted the cane in small, slow circles, watching the handle turn. His mouth opened up in an 'o' shape, laughing all the while Henry spoke, clearly not buying into the fact that 'they were on equal footing.'

"The child asked for a quill, and so I gave her one." He dropped the cane, letting the pole slide down in his loosened grasp until the bottom clinked back down onto the floor. "But that matter is for another time," He said, looking back to Henry, keeping his wry smile. "Our little Jane Doe needs awakening and I'll tell you what, that little book I gave you...it holds the answer as to how."

Henry thought back to the storybook as he looked through the pages, whether in personal study or when reading it to Snow - a simple phrase, an action that kept popping up as the catalyst. The most powerful form of magic. 

"True love's kiss..." Henry said in a tone that could only be described as a mixture of reverence and wonder at the same time. "True love's kiss can awaken her." He repeated, letting the thought sink in. 

"And it's me." He said finally, staring intently at the Dark One, or, who [i]was[/i] the Dark One. 

"The only magic powerful enough to transcend realms and break any curse." A muscle in Mr. Gold's lip twitched and his eyes seemed to go hollow, looking past Henry for a moment, as if thinking of something, something he hadn't thought of in a very long time. 

"And it's time..." Henry proclaimed before sharply turning on his heel, heading towards the front door of the shop. "Oh, and just in case you forget," he turned around one last time. "We're not done discussing what you did to Alice." He said before promptly leaving the store. 

The ringing of the little bell at Henry's exit seemed to snap Mr. Gold out of whatever it was that he had been sunken into thinking about, only faintly hearing Henry's last words before he had left. The corner of his lip turned back into a firm smile and shook his head.

"Oh no, I expect not." He whispered out to himself, in reply to Henry's last words.