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raspberryhunterI'm sorry. I really did try to give this fandom up, if only for a week, and failed. Ironically.
Title: Relapse
Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Same warnings as for the episode "Skin Deep."
Spoilers: "Skin Deep," "The Return"
Summary: Bae finds Storybrooke at the same time that Gold finds the man who stole his cup.
The stranger stepped into the office just as Emma was putting on her jacket. "Hello, Sheriff?" the man said, smiling, holding out his hand. "I'm Bay Fyre. I'm looking for someone here, and I wondered if you could help me."
Emma smiled back at him and shook the proffered hand. He was a good-looking man, she thought, with his dark curls and large dark eyes, his warm open demeanor, and he reminded her of someone, although she couldn't place who it was. "Emma Swan. I actually need to leave pretty soon, but let's see what I can do. Who're you looking for?"
"I believe he's calling himself Gold," the man said.
Emma raised her eyebrows. "Huh. May I ask why you're looking for him, Mr. Fyre?"
"Oh, please call me Bay," the man said. "And of course you may ask. He's my father. I haven't seen him since I was a boy; we lost each other years ago, and I've been trying to find him ever since."
Emma's eyes widened, and she studied Bay more carefully. This man was nothing like Gold on first glance, with his easy earnest smile, but now she could see it, the familiarity she hadn't been able to place before: the chin was the same, and something about the shape of the face as well recalled Gold's, though Bay's was rounded, softer, without the hard lines and planes of the other man's. And in any case, his words rang of truth.
"I see," Emma said. "Listen, I'd give you directions to his house, but I just got back from there about a half hour ago -- there's been a burglary there recently, I was checking up -- and he wasn't there. I think he's with another guy, Moe French, and I was just going to check out a couple of places where I thought they might be. I imagine it's nothing, but I just want to make sure because of the recent burglary."
She omitted the detail of what exactly she wanted to make sure of; she didn't, really, know herself. Surely everything would be fine. Surely it was all just a minor misunderstanding. "I bet if you come back tomorrow, it'll all be sorted out."
Bay said eagerly, "Oh, please, if you think you know where he might be, take me to him now, I don't want to wait until tomorrow. I can't bear thinking that he'll be separated from me any longer than he has to be."
Of course, Emma thought ruefully, he would have to pick the argument she couldn't resist. She scrutinized him, thinking about parents and children and finding things that were lost. "All right, it's terrible protocol, if Regina finds out she'll have my head -- but never mind that now."
They got in Emma's car. "How did you get separated from your dad?" Emma asked. "If you don't mind me asking, of course."
Bay sighed. "He had an addiction. He became a different person, in the grip of it -- it was a terrible thing, and it was getting worse. I tried to fix it, but I was only a kid, it didn't work, we got torn apart. I blamed myself for a long time, I thought, if I had only loved him more, if he'd only known how much I loved him, how much I wanted him to be his old self again -- well. I know I was wrong to blame myself, now. And it's all in the past, anyway."
Emma considered Bay's story. Mr. Gold, always perfectly controlled, a drug addict? "He doesn't seem like the type, but I guess it can happen to anyone."
She glanced quickly at Bay. She could see his smile even in the dark. He said, "Well, yes, I suppose he doesn't seem like the type now. I found out he was here -- he's been through, um, rehab. I'm so very proud of him, that he was willing to fix himself, and so happy, that I can finally have the papa I remember back again." There was something a little off about his words to Emma, not, she thought, that he wasn't telling the truth, but that he was using words that didn't quite fit. Perhaps, she thought, a private facility that didn't advertise as rehab, something of that sort.
*
Almost immediately after getting out of the car, Emma heard angry shouting, as well as dull thuds punctated with yelps. She wasn't sure she was quite making out the words -- they sounded a little like, "She's gone! She's not coming back!" She frowned. Was it French's voice, or Gold's? And who were they talking about?
"That's not --" Bay started. "It can't be. No."
"I hope not," Emma murmured, fumbling with the door. "Oh, I hope not."
They ran into the cabin and stopped short for an instant; Emma saw her horrified reaction reflected in Bay's face. Moe French was tied up, and Gold was beating him repeatedly with his cane. In time to the cane, he was screaming, "And it's your fault! Not mine! You are her father! Yours! It's yours!"
Bay cried out, his voice filled with pain, "Papa!"
Gold's head whipped around as the cane clattered to the floor. "Bae?" Emma would never forget what Gold's face did in that moment: shock, amazed hope, joy-- dying out, turning to absolute despair, as Bay said, anguished, "Papa, I thought that in this world you wouldn't be like this. That you would have changed. That without the magic you'd be all right again."
Gold's mouth opened, but no sound came out. "The magic?" Emma muttered, under her breath, as she knelt to check Moe French's condition. Alive, thank God, and if she was any judge, broken bones would be the worst of it, though that was bad enough -- one of French's legs was bent at a terribly unnatural angle, he likely wouldn't be able to walk for weeks, and she would be surprised if he didn't have a few ribs cracked as well.
Bay was also staring at French's body. As Emma dialed 911, she heard him whisper, "But now I see now I've lost my father forever. I'm so sorry, Papa." And he turned and walked quickly out the door.
"Bae!" Gold croaked. "No, son, wait, I --" He limped a few steps in the darkness, but Bay was already gone.
Emma finished giving terse directions to the cabin and put her phone away. Gold was standing absolutely still. She went to him and put her hand on his arm. "Listen. Gold. When the paramedics arrive, and after they've taken care of Mr. French, I'll go after him. I'll find him. We'll get him back. He told me he'd been trying to find you for years. He's your son, and he loves you. And -- you said something about how French hurt her – what happened to 'her'? Who was that? What did he do? If someone needs help, maybe I can help with that as well."
Gold shrugged off Emma's hand and gazed out the door, into the darkness. "No. I'm sorry, Sheriff. I think you are mistaken, on both counts. It's done, now."
Title: Relapse
Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Same warnings as for the episode "Skin Deep."
Spoilers: "Skin Deep," "The Return"
Summary: Bae finds Storybrooke at the same time that Gold finds the man who stole his cup.
The stranger stepped into the office just as Emma was putting on her jacket. "Hello, Sheriff?" the man said, smiling, holding out his hand. "I'm Bay Fyre. I'm looking for someone here, and I wondered if you could help me."
Emma smiled back at him and shook the proffered hand. He was a good-looking man, she thought, with his dark curls and large dark eyes, his warm open demeanor, and he reminded her of someone, although she couldn't place who it was. "Emma Swan. I actually need to leave pretty soon, but let's see what I can do. Who're you looking for?"
"I believe he's calling himself Gold," the man said.
Emma raised her eyebrows. "Huh. May I ask why you're looking for him, Mr. Fyre?"
"Oh, please call me Bay," the man said. "And of course you may ask. He's my father. I haven't seen him since I was a boy; we lost each other years ago, and I've been trying to find him ever since."
Emma's eyes widened, and she studied Bay more carefully. This man was nothing like Gold on first glance, with his easy earnest smile, but now she could see it, the familiarity she hadn't been able to place before: the chin was the same, and something about the shape of the face as well recalled Gold's, though Bay's was rounded, softer, without the hard lines and planes of the other man's. And in any case, his words rang of truth.
"I see," Emma said. "Listen, I'd give you directions to his house, but I just got back from there about a half hour ago -- there's been a burglary there recently, I was checking up -- and he wasn't there. I think he's with another guy, Moe French, and I was just going to check out a couple of places where I thought they might be. I imagine it's nothing, but I just want to make sure because of the recent burglary."
She omitted the detail of what exactly she wanted to make sure of; she didn't, really, know herself. Surely everything would be fine. Surely it was all just a minor misunderstanding. "I bet if you come back tomorrow, it'll all be sorted out."
Bay said eagerly, "Oh, please, if you think you know where he might be, take me to him now, I don't want to wait until tomorrow. I can't bear thinking that he'll be separated from me any longer than he has to be."
Of course, Emma thought ruefully, he would have to pick the argument she couldn't resist. She scrutinized him, thinking about parents and children and finding things that were lost. "All right, it's terrible protocol, if Regina finds out she'll have my head -- but never mind that now."
They got in Emma's car. "How did you get separated from your dad?" Emma asked. "If you don't mind me asking, of course."
Bay sighed. "He had an addiction. He became a different person, in the grip of it -- it was a terrible thing, and it was getting worse. I tried to fix it, but I was only a kid, it didn't work, we got torn apart. I blamed myself for a long time, I thought, if I had only loved him more, if he'd only known how much I loved him, how much I wanted him to be his old self again -- well. I know I was wrong to blame myself, now. And it's all in the past, anyway."
Emma considered Bay's story. Mr. Gold, always perfectly controlled, a drug addict? "He doesn't seem like the type, but I guess it can happen to anyone."
She glanced quickly at Bay. She could see his smile even in the dark. He said, "Well, yes, I suppose he doesn't seem like the type now. I found out he was here -- he's been through, um, rehab. I'm so very proud of him, that he was willing to fix himself, and so happy, that I can finally have the papa I remember back again." There was something a little off about his words to Emma, not, she thought, that he wasn't telling the truth, but that he was using words that didn't quite fit. Perhaps, she thought, a private facility that didn't advertise as rehab, something of that sort.
*
Almost immediately after getting out of the car, Emma heard angry shouting, as well as dull thuds punctated with yelps. She wasn't sure she was quite making out the words -- they sounded a little like, "She's gone! She's not coming back!" She frowned. Was it French's voice, or Gold's? And who were they talking about?
"That's not --" Bay started. "It can't be. No."
"I hope not," Emma murmured, fumbling with the door. "Oh, I hope not."
They ran into the cabin and stopped short for an instant; Emma saw her horrified reaction reflected in Bay's face. Moe French was tied up, and Gold was beating him repeatedly with his cane. In time to the cane, he was screaming, "And it's your fault! Not mine! You are her father! Yours! It's yours!"
Bay cried out, his voice filled with pain, "Papa!"
Gold's head whipped around as the cane clattered to the floor. "Bae?" Emma would never forget what Gold's face did in that moment: shock, amazed hope, joy-- dying out, turning to absolute despair, as Bay said, anguished, "Papa, I thought that in this world you wouldn't be like this. That you would have changed. That without the magic you'd be all right again."
Gold's mouth opened, but no sound came out. "The magic?" Emma muttered, under her breath, as she knelt to check Moe French's condition. Alive, thank God, and if she was any judge, broken bones would be the worst of it, though that was bad enough -- one of French's legs was bent at a terribly unnatural angle, he likely wouldn't be able to walk for weeks, and she would be surprised if he didn't have a few ribs cracked as well.
Bay was also staring at French's body. As Emma dialed 911, she heard him whisper, "But now I see now I've lost my father forever. I'm so sorry, Papa." And he turned and walked quickly out the door.
"Bae!" Gold croaked. "No, son, wait, I --" He limped a few steps in the darkness, but Bay was already gone.
Emma finished giving terse directions to the cabin and put her phone away. Gold was standing absolutely still. She went to him and put her hand on his arm. "Listen. Gold. When the paramedics arrive, and after they've taken care of Mr. French, I'll go after him. I'll find him. We'll get him back. He told me he'd been trying to find you for years. He's your son, and he loves you. And -- you said something about how French hurt her – what happened to 'her'? Who was that? What did he do? If someone needs help, maybe I can help with that as well."
Gold shrugged off Emma's hand and gazed out the door, into the darkness. "No. I'm sorry, Sheriff. I think you are mistaken, on both counts. It's done, now."
