#dr. Archie hopper

[a-happy-beginning]

Captain Hook buying a ring. I mean, that alone shows progress. Look, Killian, you’re listening to your conscience now, and everyone sees that.

—Dr. Archie Hopper, Once Upon a Time, “Murder Most Foul”

[the-regal-reginamills]

First sign you were never evil: you raised Henry so differently from how you were raised. You were afraid to defy your mother out of fear of what she’d do to you, but Henry was never afraid of you when it came to standing up for himself or his beliefs because he never knew that level of abuse.

I've walked my twelve steps, Dr. Hopper. Your services are no longer required. Thank you kindly.

[oautincorrectquotes]

Henry: I feel like Iron Man.

Archie: Explain.

Henry: Sad.

[shelbgrey]

- Archie "jiminy cricket" Hopper aesthetic

[petty-d4bblr]

Rewatching Criminal Minds: Suspect Behaviour after watching OUAT and realising Jiminy Cricket is the child abductor in ep 1....😳

[hjbirthdaywishes]

February 12, 2025

Happy 61 Birthday to Raphael Sbarge.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One: The Delicacies of Time

Chapter 44: A Happy Ending

"There are details!" she breathlessly exclaimed when she pulled away from him. The reality of a wedding tonight was settling in, romantic as he knew she'd find it, the planner within her was starting to overwhelm. "There are things that need done…people, announcements, at this hour-"

"I'll take care of all that," he promised with a shake of his head. "Marry me."

Her smile spread once more as she nodded. "What do you need me to do?"

"Prepare your vows? Meet me in an hour? I'll do the rest."

"Where?"

"The well," he answered without thinking. To him it was as normal as answering with "in a church" in this realm, but the more he thought about it…

It might have been a cheesy tradition in his old village, but it worked for them. The well was someplace special for them even here.

"The place we first kissed after the curse broke, after you came back to me. Give me a chance to make a promise to you there that I'll keep for the rest of our lives."

She beamed. Then nodded her head as her eyes glazed over with tears. "In an hour then," she answered, her voice choked with an emotion that he no longer thought was from grief but rather joy.

It was appropriate. He felt the shift too.

Quickly he leaned forward to kiss her, then moved away the second he managed to tear himself free, and left her in the library, knowing he'd see her soon. As much as he hated to do it without giving her the ring in his pocket, parting was necessary. The truth was that there were things that needed to be done if they intended to do this today, but not nearly as much as she thought.

People and announcements…those were wants. Not needs.

Needs for a marriage were quite simple.

They needed a place. And they had one. The well.

They needed an officiant, someone who could pronounce them officially husband and wife. He wasn't one for a Holy Man, but being who he was, he knew there was someone in town who was licensed in an official and legal capacity, who might not mind doing the deed.

He found Archie still at Granny's with the others. The man went pale when he pulled him aside to speak with him privately, not that he could blame him. Not only was he the Dark One, but he was also Mr. Gold, a man who never smiled unless something sinister was afoot, and yet he couldn't keep himself from smiling even now. But color returned to the man's cheeks as he explained the situation, as he told him that he knew he was friends with Belle and couldn't think of anyone else who might not only consider performing the wedding but might actually enjoy it. He expected a lecture from the cricket who prided himself on being a conscious to people who were acting against their own, but instead, he'd nodded his head and said, "I'd be honored."

A place secured, Archie preparing, the details given, a ring in his pocket already that he simply couldn't wait to give away, he realized that the list of "needs" had been fulfilled. Thirty minutes remaining didn't give him a lot of time to fulfill many "wants," but it allowed for some. He drove home quickly, changed suits, selected a steal gray tie and pocket square, then added a scarf for a bit of extra flair, and summoned a fresh white flower to fix to his lapel. Eighteen minutes to spare, he took the car and headed up into the back woods of the forest, where he knew of a spot to park his car for the well.

Archie was already there, Pongo in the backseat, he leaned against his car with a flashlight in hand. "Bit dark for a midnight wedding…I don't think there's any lighting at the well."

He couldn't be annoyed at the nitpicking. It was impossible. So instead, he answered that it wouldn't be a problem when they arrived, and the two of them began the short hike up to the well.

Another want he could accomplish…setting the mood.

With a sweep of his hands, he covered the well with glowing white candles that even made Archie gasp. "Ah…yes…well…that will work just fine."

Between the candles and the moon, it would indeed work just fine.

Seven minutes to spare.

If he knew Belle, she'd be right on time.

There was time enough to do something more, he knew. Time enough to fulfill another "want," but for the life of him, he couldn't think of anything that would be appropriate. His mind felt hazy. There was a lump that was somehow managing to swell in his throat. Concentration was beginning to feel impossible. But when he heard a branch break at four minutes to go and turned to see her step out of the clearing…

He couldn't think at all.

He could barely breathe looking at her.

Time slowed to a crawl as she walked toward him, a vision in white…in every single literal way he knew of.

It was true. That vision that he'd seen so long ago in the castle when he'd caught her after she'd fallen from the ladder, the vision that produced so many small little glimpses of a future he wasn't sure or hadn't wanted to believe were real…one of those visions had shown him this. Had shown him her. Dressed exactly like that.

On their wedding day.

It hadn't shown him Archie. It hadn't shown him Belle clinging to her father's arm, only her as she made her way to him, eyes fixed and nearly in tears already.

She was gorgeous. And he wasn't sure this was the best idea he'd ever had, or the worst because he'd taken so damn long to get to this place.

"It is my great honor to officiate this most lovely union," Archie began when they were toe to toe, and her father had stepped away. The shock of his voice had him glancing over at him, reminding him that they weren't alone at the moment. His mind seemed to keep forgetting that. It kept blocking out everyone and everything except her and that gaze of hers. "If you'd like to begin, your vows…" Archie prompted, glancing at her first as he realized…

A need that he'd forgotten…his vows.

"Rumpelstiltskin…" she began with a swallow. "This thing we have it's…it's never been easy. I've…I've lost you so many times," she cried, struggling to breathe through her emotions. Oh, he wanted to take her in his arms even then. "I've lost you to…to darkness, to weakness, and-and finally…to death. But now I realized…I realize that I have not spent my life losing you…I've spent my life finding you!"

Beautiful vows. Simple and elegant, just as she was. Just as he had difficulty being, especially when he went into something entirely unplanned and unprepared. How was he supposed to say anything half as good as that?

But then again…

There was nothing he could tell her she didn't already know. What had he said to her in the library? He wanted to make a promise to her that he'd actually keep. What was a vow if not a promise?

"Belle…" he began, doing his best to look at her and go back to that place where Archie and her father didn't exist. The things he wanted to tell her now were things he had only ever uttered to her in the privacy of their bedroom or the back of the shop. He blushed to think others might be witness to it, but that was the point after all. He just needed to block the others out so he could get them out of his mouth. It was just the two of them here at this well. It was the two of them making these promises. "When we met, I wasn't just unloved and unloving. I was an enemy of love. Love had only brought me pain. My walls were up, but you brought them down. You brought me home." He swallowed hard and tried not to be distracted as tears rolled down her cheeks. "You brought life into my life and chased away all the darkness. And I vow to you, I will never forget the distance between what I was and what I am."

That was it…the "want" he had time to provide for her. He wanted to do right by her, wanted to be everything that she wanted him to be. That was a vow, a promise that he wanted to keep. A gift that he could give…plus one other she didn't yet know about.

He glanced at Archie as he pulled the ring out of his pocket, more to let the cricket know he had it than to seek his permission, but he was happy when he nodded all the same. Her jaw dropped as she stared at it, and he reached for her hand to slip it over her finger.

"I owe more to you than I can ever say," he explained, settling it into place and feeling the magic solidify. "How you can see the man behind the monster…I will never know."

"But that monster's gone," she argued with absolute certainty. "And the man beneath him may be flawed…but we all are. And I love you for it," she insisted, squeezing his hands tighter in her own. "Sometimes the best book has the dustiest jacket. And sometimes the best teacup…is chipped!"

A small laugh spread over her face, taking him right back to one of their earliest interactions, when she'd dropped that cup, chipping it forever, and he'd made a not-so-funny joke that she'd still laughed at all the same. It was strange how a moment like that could evolve, the places it could lead to the challenges that would arrive to dismantle it. They'd conquered their demons, climbed their mountains, and come through the other side. And now there was only one thing left he could think to do.

Vows said, ring given, he stepped forward in front of that well, and the few there to witness it, and kissed her, proclaiming to all the world they were now and forever, finally, husband and wife.

[kmomof4]

X Never Ever Marks the Spot - A Birthday Fic for @zaharadessert

We are back!!!! Adventure certainly awaits in this chapter and I so hope you enjoy it!

Thank you again to @snowbellewells for her beta expertise and for the PERFECT artwork above!!! And to @hollyethecurious for the idea of the title and being my grammar guru...

Rating: M for smut and scary moments

Words: 2143 of approx 24k

Tags: Inspired by Raiders of the Lost Ark, Birthday Fic for Zahara

On ao3 From the beginning / current ch

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615

@donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells  @djlbg

@lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica

@laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter

@ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie

@soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jonesfandomfanatic

@elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779 @kymbersmith-90

@suwya @veryverynotgoodwrites @myfearless-love 

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Ch. 1 Adventure Awaits

“Archaeology is the search for fact,” Dr. Killian Jones asserted, turning away from the chalkboard and facing his students. “Not truth. If truth is what you’re interested in, Dr. French’s Philosophy 101 is right down the hall.” A smattering of laughter rolled around the room, prompting a smirk to his lips as he continued. “Ninety percent of all archeology is done in the library in the form of research and study. And no matter what you’ve been led to believe, X never EVER marks the spot.”

He stood before his Intro to Archeology students finishing up his lecture on the discovery of King Tut’s tomb. Just before the bell rang, a student who sat by the windows and had kept her head down the entire lecture, scribbling furiously in her notebook, finally looked up at him and slowly blinked.

There was something written across her eyelids that caught his attention, but he couldn’t read it. She blinked slowly again and the rest of his sentence just disintegrated when he was able to read what she’d written but hadn’t been brave enough to show him until now at the very end of class. Love you, it said. And the dreamy smile on her face told him that she wasn’t talking about enjoying his class, but she was talking about him, personally. It was all he could do to keep from rolling his eyes at the covert message. Besides being wholly inappropriate - as was any kind of personal relationship between a professor and student - his heart was already taken and had been for a decade. It lay safely in the hands of a blonde siren that he hadn’t seen in nearly that long.

The bell rang and Killian’s boss, Dr. Archie Hopper, entered the room as his students packed up their notebooks and he shouted out the reading assignment for their next class.

Once the classroom was empty, Archie approached his desk.

“I had it, Archie,” he told his friend. “I had it in my hand.”

“What happened then?” he asked.

“Three guesses,” he replied through grit teeth, “and the first two don’t count.”

“Cassidy?”

“Want to hear about it?”

“Absolutely not,” he said, a bemused smile on his face. “I’m quite sure everything you do for the museum conforms to the International Treaty for the Protection of Antiquities.”

“It was beautiful, Archie.” Killian started packing up his notes and charts he’d used in his lecture. “I can get it. I’ve got it all figured out. He’s going to sell it and there’s only one place he can do that. Marrakech. I need two thousand dollars.”

“I brought some people to see you,” Archie interrupted smoothly.

“What?” Killian didn’t expect to be cut off in the middle of his impassioned plea and so hadn’t caught exactly what Archie had said. He reached into his bag and pulled out several other pieces he was able to collect on this trip. “Here, Archie. They’re good pieces. Definitely worth the price of a ticket to Marrakech.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, looking over the pieces Killian handed him. “These are very nice. The museum will compensate you handsomely for these. But the men I brought here are important. And they’re waiting.”

“Who?”

“Army Intelligence.”

“What?” he asked again, totally dumbfounded. “Why do I want to see them?”

“They want to see you,” Archie said, leaving the room, Killian close behind him.

“Why? Am I in trouble?”

A few minutes later, they entered a large empty lecture hall, where two men sat at a large table up on the platform behind the lectern. As soon as they entered, the two men stood up. Neither one was particularly imposing, but their twin black suits were just a bit disconcerting. They held out their hands to shake as soon as Killian and Archie joined them on the platform.

“August Booth,” the thinner one introduced himself. Killian and Archie shook his hand and turned to his companion.

“Jefferson Hatter,” the other one said. “We’ve heard a lot about you, Dr. Jones.”

“Have you?” he asked, politely, his brows raised in inquiry as he sat down at the table.

“Professor of archeology,” Hatter said, “expert on the occult, and uh, how does one say it? Obtainer of rare antiquities.”

“You studied under Professor Cleo Fox at the University of Chicago, correct?” Booth asked.

“Yes, I did.”

“Do you have any idea of her current whereabouts?”

“Not really,” he replied. “Just rumors. Somewhere in Southeast Asia, I believe. I haven’t spoken to her in ten years. We were friends, but had a bit of a falling out, I’m afraid.”

The two men leaned forward and clasped their hands on the table, their gazes serious. “Now Dr. Jones,” Booth began, “you understand that everything that we discuss here today is strictly confidential, yes?”

Killian glanced at Archie, who simply shrugged his shoulders, before looking back at the other men.

“I understand.”

“Yesterday afternoon,” Booth said, “our European sections intercepted a German communication sent to Berlin from Cairo. We can’t make much sense out of it, but perhaps you can.”

“See, for the last two years,” Hatter interrupted, “the Nazis have had teams of archeologists digging all over the world for religious artifacts. Hitler’s nuts over it. Absolutely obsessed.” The man’s face was serious, but he rolled his eyes slightly before continuing. “And now, there’s a German archeological dig outside of Cairo.”

Booth had opened his briefcase while his colleague was talking, pulled out a sheet, and began reading.

“Tanis development proceeding. Acquire headpiece, Staff of Ra.” Killian’s eyes widened and he looked at Archie, whose face was just as astounded and excited as he was sure his was. “Cleo Fox, U.S.” Booth finished reading and looked at Killian expectantly.

“The Nazis have discovered Tanis,” Killian whispered, Archie nodding excitedly.

“What exactly does that mean to you?” Booth asked. “This Tanis?”

“Tanis is one of the possible resting places of the lost ark,” Archie explained.

“The lost ark?” Hatter asked, confusion furrowing his brow.

“The lost ark,��� Killian repeated, “you know, the Ark of the Covenant. The chest the Hebrews used to symbolize the presence of God with His people. They kept the Ten Commandments inside, the staff of Aaron that budded, and a jar of manna - the food God fed them when they wandered in the wilderness for forty years after the Exodus.”

Seeing their blank faces, Killian asked, “Didn’t you ever go to Sunday school?”

“The Ten Commandments?”  Hatter asked, incredulously, “Like, THE Ten Commandments?”

“Yes, the Ten Commandments,” Killian confirmed. “Have no other gods before Me, thou shalt not murder or steal. Ring a bell?” he asked. “Once the Hebrews were settled in Canaan, it was kept in the Tent of Meeting until King Solomon built his temple in Jerusalem about five hundred years later.” He looked between the two men who looked as stunned as he and Archie looked excited. “At some point - nobody knows exactly how or when - the Ark disappeared, and one of the legends that sprung up was that the Pharaoh Shishak took it back to his home in Egypt when he invaded Jerusalem about 926 BC.”

“The legend says that he took it back to Tanis and hid it in a secret chamber called the Well of Souls,” Archie picked up the narration. “But about a year after the Pharaoh returned to Egypt, the city was consumed by the desert in a sandstorm that lasted a whole year.” He paused and glanced at Killian. “Wiped clean off the map, by the wrath of God.”

The two men sat across from them, with their mouths hanging open for a moment before Booth spoke again.

“Obviously we’ve come to the right men. You seem to know all about this Tanis, then.”

“No, no, no,” Killian was quick to deny. “That was Cleo’s area of expertise. She was a pioneer, one of the first women in the field, and she was all about Biblical history. She’s the expert, not me. Almost to an obsessive degree. She even collected some of its relics. But never found the city itself.”

“We’re actually somewhat suspicious of Ms. Fox,” Hatter said. “An American mentioned so prominently in a high level Nazi communication?”

“Oh, nonsense,” Archie exclaimed. 

Killian chuckled. “Cleo is no Nazi.”

“Then what do you make of this?”

“Obviously, the Nazi’s are looking for this headpiece and they think that Cleo has it,” Killian explained matter-of-factly.

“What exactly is this headpiece?” Booth asked. “This Staff of Ra?”

“Well, the staff is just a stick,” he explained, holding out his hands, “About yea big. And the headpiece,” Killian moved over to the chalkboard and began drawing. “Is in the shape of the sun, with a crystal in the middle of it.” He turned back to the men and then continued with his explanation. “And what you did was you’d take the staff to this special room in Tanis, a map room with the entire city laid out in miniature on the floor. And if you placed the staff in a certain place at a certain time, the rays of the sun would shine through the crystal and show exactly where the Well of Souls was located.” 

“Where the Ark was kept?” Booth asked.

“Right,” Killian confirmed. “Which is exactly what the Nazis are looking for.”

“And what does this Ark look like?” Hatter asked.

Killian glanced at Archie before answering the man’s question. “It’s described in detail in the book of Exodus. In the Bible.” 

Archie’s expression turned serious as he interjected. “But this isn’t something that one should take lightly,” he said, “The Ark signified the very presence of God Himself. And there were very specific instructions for how to treat it, and those who didn’t follow those instructions paid dearly for it.”

“I can see why Hitler would be so interested in this thing,” Booth said. “The army that carried this before them, would be invincible.”

“Not necessarily,” Killian refuted. “The Old Testament tells of when the Philistines - ancient enemies of Israel - captured the Ark for a time. Each city they stored it in was plagued in some way, and when they placed it inside the temple of their god, Dagon, the next morning, Dagon’s statue was face down in front of the Ark. If you believe in that kind of thing.” He turned away for a moment and scrubbed his hand down his face before turning back to the other men. “If the Ark is really there, I can’t imagine the God of the Bible allowing it to fall into the hands of the Nazis.”

~*~*~

Later that night, Killian heard the bell and opened the door to Archie, whose dancing eyes and the way he nearly bounced on the balls of his feet told him more than words ever could.

“They want you to go after it!”

The jubilant sound that escaped him could be described as somewhere between an elated growl and a hiss, but he was too excited about the prospect before him to care. Archie clapped him on the back as they moved further into his house.

“They want you to get the ark before the Nazis do,” Archie continued, “and they are prepared to pay handsomely for it.”

“And the museum?” Killian asked, “The museum gets it after we’re finished?”

“Oh, yes! Of course!” Archie assured him. 

Killian led his boss into his study and poured them both a drink. Toasting his good fortune, they both drank, the rum burning on its way down. Setting down his glass, Killian opened the closet and pulled out his suitcase.

“The lost ark,” he said, awe coloring his words, as he started packing.

“An artifact like that is what made us go into archeology in the first place,” Archie agreed. “I have to say, I’m rather envious.”

Killian turned to his boss, chagrin coloring his features, but the pride in Archie’s eyes and smile belied his words. He stuck his hand out, and Killian clasped it before pulling his friend into a brief but warm embrace.

“I’ll have to find Cleo,” Killian said, turning back to his suitcase. “I think I know where to start.” He paused for a moment, the excited grin on his face disappearing. “Do you think she’s still with her?”

“Possibly,” Archie replied. “But Emma Swan is the least of your worries at the moment. You’re going after the lost Ark of the Covenant, Killian. You’ve never gone after something like this. You can’t afford to let yourself get distracted.”

“I won’t.” He moved over to his desk and pulled out his pistol. “I’m going after an artifact of incredible historical significance. I won’t forget that. Nor the fact that I’m not the only one searching for it.” 

Killian tossed the weapon in the suitcase and shut it before heading upstairs to finish his packing.

~*~*~

Thank you so much for reading and sharing! I'd love to hear what you think! Next chapter will be up on Friday and Emma Swan will finally make her appearance!!

[kelyon]

Twenty-One: A Golden Rings Story

In cursed Storybrooke, Mrs. Gold celebrates her birthday

Read on AO3

You are cordially invited to a party

Celebrating the birthday of 

Mrs. Gold

At the residence of Mr. Gold

On Saturday, the twenty-sixth of March,

At eight o’clock in the evening

Dress code formal

Guests who wish to play a special game with Mrs. Gold may signal their intentions by bringing a bottle of champagne.

Graham Humbert looked down at the invitation he held in one hand. Then he looked up at the glass door to the pink house in front of him. Then down again, to his other hand, which held a bottle of champagne. 

What the hell was he doing here?

Sheriff Graham was a man of the people. He didn’t go to private parties at Old Town mansions. He drank beer--or cheap whiskey on a bad day--not champagne. He wore a tie and waistcoat because that outfit was professional, but it wasn’t formal. From the cars parked around the block, all the other guests made somewhere between twice and ten times his salary. He didn’t belong here. None of this was his style. 

The only reason he had for being here was because Mayor Mills had heard about the party from one of her underlings who had also gotten an invitation. Once she’d sussed out that it was an exclusively male event, she had demanded Graham accept his invitation and tell her what the hell Gold was doing for his pretty young wife. And when Mayor Mills gave an order, everyone obeyed. Graham especially. 

She’d even insisted that he play whatever “special game” was going on. The thought of which brought Graham’s mind back to his fist clenched around the neck of the bottle.   

“It’s just a party,” he said to himself out loud. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

He’d barely had time to knock when the front door burst open and Mrs. Gold burst out. She was a very pretty girl, wearing a pale pink outfit that seemed a little chilly for this time of year. The halter-top dress was layers of gauze, almost see-through, that fell like flower petals from her chest to her knees. Her brown hair was done up in a loose bun and her smile filled her whole face.

“Welcome!” she squealed. “We’re so happy to have you!”

She opened her bare arms for a hug and Graham complied, while racking his brain for a lost memory. Why was Mrs. Gold so happy to see him? Had he ever spoken to her before? All his conversations with Mr. Gold were either about police business or Graham’s apartment. He had been to their wedding, but everyone had been to that wedding. Mrs. Gold had danced with every man in Storybrooke--including him. 

Maybe that explained it. Maybe that was why she was hanging onto him like he was some long-lost older brother. Just because they had shared a dance at her wedding. Yeah, that could be it. 

“I, uh, brought you this?” He offered the champagne as a way of breaking the hug. 

Mrs. Gold’s eyes sparkled as she took the bottle. “Oh, I’m so glad!” she cried. “Mr. Gold and I were hoping you would want to play!”

She handed him a plastic token with the number 18 printed on it.

“That’s for later,” she grinned.

They were in the house now. Sedate music played over the sound of conversations in other rooms. Mrs. Gold took his coat.

“What kind of game is it, anyway?” he called after her.

The words “You’ll see!” floated down the hallway like a trail of bubbles. 

****

Dr. Archie Hopper stood in a corner of Mr. Gold’s living room and tried to pretend he was anywhere else. He didn’t normally suffer from social anxiety--but then again, he didn’t normally go to parties like this. The living room was dark, everyone seemed to be smoking cigars and swirling glasses of brandy. The other men wore black suits, which made Archie’s tweed look ridiculous in comparison. He’d thought he looked sharp when he’d left home, and Mrs. Gold had certainly seemed to like the way he was dressed when she’d greeted him at the door. But the longer the night wore on, the clearer it was that he didn’t belong in this company.

Shuffling off to find either of the Golds and make his good-byes, Archie heard a whispered conversation between two shadowy figures.

“No, man, I swear, she did it right in the bathroom.”

“That is such bullshit. Gold is right here.”

“She got down on her knees like it was fucking porno. Practically begged me to take it out.”

“Yeah right.”

“Ask her! Knowing her, she’ll probably admit it.”

“I’m not gonna ask Gold’s wife if she gave you a blowie in the bathroom at her own birthday party.”

“What?” Archie blurted out. The word was loud enough that all the conversation in the room stopped. 

One of the young men stood up. Archie couldn’t tell if it was the alleged receiver of oral sex or the skeptic. 

“Private conversation, Doc. Why don’t you get going?”

It wasn’t a suggestion, and Archie wasn’t about to argue. Out in the hall, he saw Dr. Whale, the local surgeon, making conversation with Dr. Atwell, the local vet. Finally, some people he knew! Stopping to say hello to his colleagues, Archie caught the tail end of their conversation.

“…right in the coat closet!” Atwell said in a too-loud whisper.

“Closet makes sense, you’re short enough,” Whale said with his normal dry humor. “She’s pretty short too. Did that help, or…?”

“Is this about Mrs. Gold?” Archie broke in. “Did she… do something inappropriate?”

“I’ll say!” Atwell raised his eyebrows over his spectacles. He was an older man, with flat gray hair. A friendly guy, but never a hit with the ladies even in his youth. Had Mrs. Gold really gone into a closet with him? And done what?

“You sound like you’ve heard this story before,” Whale said to Archie. “Can you offer any insight, Doctor?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “If it’s what I think it is, it’s hard to believe. Either way, I need a drink.”

****

The kitchen was quiet and cool. Archie didn’t want to rummage around Mr. Gold’s cupboards looking for a glass, but he was able to splash his face with some water from the sink. Anything to cool his head. 

“How did I know I would find you in the kitchen, Dr. Hopper?”

Mrs. Gold stood in the doorway, rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed. Casually, she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a green glass bottle. It was the same champagne Archie had brought to the party.

“M-Mrs. Gold,” he stammered. “I was trying to find you so I could--”

“Oh that’s great.” Her usual bright manner had dimmed a little over the course of the evening. Now she seemed to shimmer more than sparkle. “I’ve been looking for you too.” 

Coming closer to him, she snuck her hand into his pants pocket. Before he could say a word, she pulled out a plastic token. She had given it to him when he had given her the bottle of champagne. 

“Lucky number seven.” She held it up so he could see the number. “Do you feel lucky, Dr. Hopper?”

He didn’t know how to answer. His mouth was suddenly too dry to say anything. Her blue eyes--heavy-lidded but still dazzling--looked him up and down. 

“Have a drink with me.” It wasn’t a request. She had already taken the foil off the top of the bottle and was working at the cork cage.

“W--” Archie said lamely, “where are the glasses?”

“We don’t need any,” Mrs. Gold said. 

The cork popped out in a cascade of foam. Instead of shying away from the bubbling mess, Mrs. Gold dove into it. She stuck her tongue out to catch the spray, slurping up foam as it ran down the side of the bottle. Then she tilted her head back and let the champagne pour into her mouth. The muscles in her throat worked as she swallowed. She guzzled down as much as she could, then finally pulled herself back, giggling.

She held the bottle out to him. Her smile was loose and easy. “Would you like some?” 

Archie took the bottle without knowing what he was doing. He put his lips to the top, where her mouth had just been, and tipped the bottle up to drink.

“Cheers.” He took a short sip. “Happy birthday.”

Mrs. Gold laughed. “It’s been a very happy birthday so far. Mr. Gold arranged this wonderful party for me. I’m getting to know so many people. I’m having so much fun!”

“I’m… glad.” Archie looked for a place where he could set down the bottle. 

“Are you having fun, Dr. Hopper?”   

“Of course,” he lied.

Somehow, she had gotten very close to him. Her next sentence was practically a whisper, but it thundered in his ears.

“Would you like to have more fun?”

He gulped. “I’m not sure what you--”  

Before he could finish the sentence, her hand was on his belt buckle. Slowly, she stroked down the front of his pants. When she felt his erection, she grinned.

“I told you you were lucky, Dr. Hopper.”

He tried to push her away, but wasn’t sure where to touch her. “This isn’t right. You’re married. I don’t even know you. I--”

“Mr. Gold wants me to have fun on my birthday.” She didn’t move her hand. God, when was the last time someone had put their hand on his pants? “You were at my wedding, remember? So I want to get to know you better.” Her grip tightened, just a little. “Much better.” 

Archie’s conscience told him to get out, to get away from this girl no matter how impolite he had to be. But when the hell had his conscience done him any good? Mrs. Gold was an adult, she could do what she wanted with her body. And in that moment she could do whatever she wanted with his.

Before he could say another word, Mrs. Gold had dropped to her knees--just like a porno--she undid his belt and his fly and then his penis was in her hands.

“Oh that’s impressive!” she said in a voice that added another inch to his length.

“You--” Archie tried to breathe. “You don’t have to--”

“I want to, you silly man,” she smiled. “And more importantly, Mr. Gold wants me to.”

His head cleared for a split second. “Wait, what?”

But then Mrs. Gold’s mouth was on him and the time for talking was over.

****

Whale had started keeping track of his hostess’ comings and goings. When Hopper had gone to the kitchen and then come out twenty minutes later red-faced and sweating, that had given credence to Atwell’s ridiculous story about being randomly accosted by Mrs. Gold.

But it wasn’t random, was it? He watched her now, as she climbed into the lap of Sidney Glass. She whispered in the reporter’s ear, giggling as always. She showed him the bottle of champagne she’d been carrying and he pulled something out of his pants pocket. Mrs. Gold took the thing and held it up to look at it--a plastic coin. Then she hopped off Glass and said something else to him. He stood up, straightening his pants very carefully, and the two of them went somewhere together. Probably somewhere private.

That would certainly make a good article for the Storybrooke Daily Mirror.

Now that she was gone, Whale looked at his watch. Given the state of Glass’ pants, it probably wouldn’t take a full twenty minutes for them to finish up. Call it fifteen, or even ten. He hadn’t read the number on that little token, but he had been able to see that it was a double digit. Since Whale was the proud owner of coin number 12, his time was definitely coming. He just had to wait a little longer.

The lights were off in Gold’s study, but the door was open. Whale pushed a button and a soft yellow light welcomed him into a world of bound books and leather furniture. 

It wasn’t entirely his style. Whale liked the modern and scientific--clean lines and minimal decoration--but he could respect what the oak desk and crystal tumblers meant: Money. Power. And when Mrs. Gold came into this room, it would mean sex too.

God, she was a hot little piece of ass. Gold was lucky to have pinned her down. Not that luck had anything to do with it. You didn’t get a girl like that with luck. You got it by having a room like this.

The desk was clear of any documents. Whale turned on the green banker’s lamp and sat down in Gold’s leather swivel chair. What was it like to have this kind of power? Was it better than saving lives? In the operating room, Whale liked to think he was playing God, but maybe the Devil was the one with the real power. At least in this town. From this desk, Gold decided the fate of every man, woman and child in Storybrooke.

He was turned away from the door when he heard the voice: “That’s where Mr. Gold sits.”

He spun around slowly, to get the full effect. You could feel like a movie villain in this chair! He smiled at Mrs. Gold and patted his knee. 

“Do you get to sit here too?”

Her head swayed back and forth. In one hand, she held the bottle of bubbly he had given her earlier that night. “Just him.”

His smile turned into a cheeky grin. “So am I breaking a rule by sitting here?”

Another slow shake. “You don’t have rules.”

“So, Gold won’t mind if I sit in his study and talk to his pretty wife?”

“He wants you to. He wants everything that is happening tonight.”  

Whale leaned forward. “What is going to happen tonight?

Mrs. Gold’s zonked-out expression cracked into a drunken smile. “We’re going to have a drink! Would you like to see how I serve Mr. Gold his whisky?”

“Uh, sure. Sure, I wanna see whatever you wanna show me.”

Stumbling a little on glittery high heels, she walked over to a bar hidden in the bookshelves. She opened the champagne carefully so the foam didn’t spray out on the Oriental rug. Then she took a tumbler and poured out three fingers. Whale didn’t mind the lack of a champagne glass, not when Mrs. Gold walked over and bent at the waist to serve him.

He whistled softly and took the glass.

“So.” He leaned back in the chair. “To what do I owe all these pleasures?”

“Well it’s my birthday,” she giggled slowly. “And Mr. Gold wants me to have a good time.”

“And are you?”

She perched herself on his thigh and Whale discovered that he had no more self-control than Sidney Glass. He was a rocket about to take off. Mrs. Gold wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear: 

“It could be better.”

“Yeah?” Whale could hardly breathe. “How so?”

Graceful as a diving bird, Mrs. Gold slid off his thigh. She landed on her knees, her pretty pink dress pooling around her.

“Do you want to have a good time, Dr. Whale?”

Barely bothering to nod, Whale unzipped his pants and took his prick out.

Mrs. Gold smiled. “Oh that’s a friendly little fella, isn’t he?”

“He wants to be your best friend, baby.”

Her mouth was hot as a burning windmill. Lust coursed through Whale’s veins like fire, like lightning, with enough force to raise the dead. She did things with her tongue no woman had ever tried on him before. Whale had received his fair share of BJs, but this! This was something else.

She wasn’t afraid to use her hands. She stroked his balls or held him up in front of her mouth. She twisted and cradled and pulled him back between those cherry-red lips.

“Fuck,” he whispered. Fuck, did Gold get sex like this all the time? How could he possibly be so grumpy if he had access to the best cocksucker in the world?     

   Gold’s wife licked and slobbered and sucked him hard down her throat. She never gagged, just bobbed her head deeper and deeper over him until he couldn’t last another second.

Then she swallowed.

Maybe he should have been ashamed to come so quickly. But when a girl is sex personified, any man would succumb to her demands.

“Happy birthday to me,” she whispered as she sat back on her heels.

“Yeah,” Whale breathed. “Yeah, I mean, uh, thank you? This was…unexpected.”

“I know.” As smoothly as she had fallen, Mrs. Gold rose up again. Without a second look at Whale, she left the study. Doubtless on the prowl for number 13. 

****

Graham was in the garden, looking at his watch. He could probably leave by now, right? Other guests had left already. He could just grab his coat and--damn. 

He had no idea where Mrs. Gold had put his coat. To find it, he would have to find her, and right now that was the last thing he wanted. 

He couldn’t put his finger on why Mrs. Gold made him uncomfortable tonight. To all appearances, she was just a lively girl having a good time. She was the life of this party. Everybody--every man--was pleased to see her. But something niggled at the back of his head when he looked at her. He had some idle, insubstantial thought that she shouldn’t be doing this. 

For some reason, Mrs. Gold made him think about Mayor Mills. Not that they had anything in common. But something about the way Mrs. Gold acted… Graham had the oddest feeling that Regina was the reason for it.

“There you are!” A girl’s voice slurred behind him. Mrs. Gold wobbled on the garden flagstones. 

Graham rushed over to steady her. 

“My hero!” she beamed up at him.

“Just doing my job,” he muttered. Then he looked her over. “Are you alright, Mrs. Gold? How much have you had to drink?”

“Not enough!” She held up the bottle he’d brought to the party. “You’re number 18 aren’t you?”

“Am I?”

She shoved her free hand into his pants pocket and fished around in his change. Graham was too concerned about keeping her upright to try to stop her.

“Ah-ha!” she crowed. She held up the plastic coin she’d given him a few hours ago. It was indeed printed with the number 18.

“So this is the special game we get to play with you?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded. “You get to give me a drink, for my birthday.”

“So you’ve already had seventeen servings of champagne?”

“And more!” She giggled to herself. “Much more.”

“How are you still standing?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be.” Handing him the bottle, she pulled up her dress a little and got down on her knees.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Can you open it? It’s getting too hard for me.” For some reason, that made her laugh even more. At least she was a happy drunk. 

“I think you’ve had enough, Mrs. Gold.”

“But Mr. Gold doesn’t think so!” She put her hand on his arm, wherever she could reach from the ground. “He wants me to finish the game.”

“Can’t you just tell him you did?”

She fell back on her heels, genuinely shocked. “I could never lie to Mr. Gold! He’s my husband. You know what that’s like.”

Graham’s blood went cold. How did she know that? Of course he wasn’t married, but there were other bonds in this world. There was a person he couldn’t lie to and had to keep happy. Was Mrs. Gold’s situation really that similar to his?

“Okay,” he said, thinking quickly. He gave the bottle some vigorous shakes and started the process of uncorking. “Sláinte.”  

Shaking the bottle all the while, Graham popped the cork. Foam arced up into the air. He tried to keep it away from him and Mrs. Gold. He kept shaking the bottle, kept his thumb on the mouth, kept the spray going for as long as he could. Mrs. Gold laughed and tried to catch some foam in her mouth. When the spray was done, Graham took a mighty swig of the champagne. He glugged down as much as he could stand and only when the bottle was almost empty did he pass it to Mrs. Gold. 

“Since I’m down here, you should give it to me.” Some of the foam had landed on her. White flecks slowly dissolved in her tousled brown hair. 

“What, pour it down your throat?”

“Yeah,” she said. “It’ll be good practice.” 

Practice for what he didn’t bother asking. 

Mrs. Gold opened her mouth wide in a needful, pleading gesture. On her knees, she kept her hands clasped behind her back. Her blue eyes begged Graham for the champagne, begged him for so much more. 

Her pink lips wrapped around the mouth of the bottle. She drank the dregs to the last drop. She sucked at the rim, like she was trying to swallow the whole thing. Gently, he pulled it away from her. She released the bottle with a pop.

Then she fell forward, onto his crotch. He dug his heels into the ground to make sure they didn’t both tumble, while Mrs. Gold attached herself to his pants. Through the cloth, she sucked him like she had sucked at the bottle--and fuck it felt good.

“Mrs. Gold--” He held onto her by the shoulders. He tried to push her away. But her skin was so soft under his hands. 

He couldn’t let go, no matter how much he wanted to.

She rubbed and licked him through the fabric of his trousers, until he couldn’t stand it any longer. He unzipped his fly and let himself out. 

Mrs. Gold sucked down his cock like she was dying for it. Fuck, when was the last time he had been on the receiving end of oral sex? When was the last time someone had wanted him--wanted to enjoy him? When was the last time anything had felt this good?

Slowly, Graham worked his hand into her hair. It was so thick, so curly. He pulled her back, gently, so he could look at her. 

“Do you really want this?” he asked her.

Her eyes were clear and steady when she answered, “Yes.”

And he was done for.

****

Albert Spencer was not a man used to being kept waiting. He was the District Attorney, goddammit. Other people waited for him. And he was absolutely not in the habit of waiting around for a drunken floozy to finish up whatever shenanigans she’d been doing with other men all night.

He was the last man left at Gold’s house, except for Gold himself and some tall fellow who was cleaning up. Spencer and Gold waited in the front hall. He would have left hours ago if it weren’t for the cheap party favor in his hand that read 21. 

“Is that little hussy of yours going to come back?” Spencer tried to keep a civil tongue in his head, no matter how difficult it was getting. 

“She will.” Gold didn’t seem perturbed at all. He shut his pocket watch and put it back in his vest. “I imagine Mr. Andersen needed some convincing before playing the game.”

“If you don’t have a problem with her behavior tonight, I don’t see why he should.”

“Some men quibble in the face of temptation,” Gold mused. “They resist for a while, before inevitably giving in.”

“Temptation,” Spencer spat the word. “That wife of yours is pretty enough, but calling her temptation is a stretch.” 

Gold said nothing, but grinned like he knew something no one else did. Spencer didn’t care to dig deeper. No one got a straight answer out of Gold. Bastard was more twisted than a corkscrew. This whole party was proof of that.

He turned to Gold again. “Isn’t the point of having a trophy wife that you get what no one else can have? Why put her up for grabs to anyone who wants her?”

“Not just anyone,” Gold said. “Twenty-one of the most important and influential men in Storybrooke.”

Spencer huffed. As he’d thought, there was no getting an answer out of that man. 

Eventually, the girl staggered into the front hall. There was no sign of Andersen, though there was a white smear on Mrs. Gold’s cheek that might have been from him. Or it might have been from any other man she’d sucked off over the course of the evening. She certainly looked like she’d been run through the ringer. Her eyes were as red as her cheeks, her hair was a rat’s nest. It looked like she could barely stand.

Degraded. That was the word for how Gold’s wife looked. Like she’d been plucked right out of the gutter. 

“Are we doing this?” Spencer asked.

Shakily, Mrs. Gold nodded. “Do you wanna go--”

“Here’s fine.” He addressed Gold. “Unless you have a problem with that?”

“Not at all,” Gold said. He went over to the girl and guided her towards Spencer. “What is mine is yours.”

Mrs. Gold fell to the floor, then slowly staggered up to her knees. Pathetic. He’d have to get this over with quickly, before the little lush threw up on his shoes.

He unzipped his fly, but Mrs. Gold stopped him. “A drink,” she muttered. “I need a drink. For m’birthday.”

Of course. The bizarre little ritual. Spencer grabbed his bottle of champagne, twisted off the top, and poured the contents down her well-worn throat. Mrs. Gold coughed and sputtered and turned her head. A good deal of liquid splashed onto her face and dress--not the first liquids to spill on her tonight. That dress was so wet it was almost transparent.

“Is that enough?” he growled. 

When she nodded, he took his dick out and grabbed her by the hair. He shoved himself inside her mouth just as brusquely as he’d poured in the champagne. This time, she didn’t resist. She didn’t gag or choke. The girl took him perfectly, as hot and wet a thing as anyone could ask for.

He used her roughly, but she didn’t complain. She seemed too out of it to know what was happening to her. Well, that was all for the better wasn’t it? Maybe in the morning she wouldn’t remember anything she had done tonight. 

Gold stayed all the while. Spencer didn’t look at him, didn’t think about what it meant to have another man watch him get head from his wife. What this meant for Gold and the girl was their affair. Spencer had an opportunity, and by God was he seizing it. 

He pulled out just before he came. Pumping himself, he held her head back and sprayed all over her. Streaks of white on her rosy cheeks, in her messy hair, all over her thin, pink dress. 

At the height of his climax, Spencer heard a click. It didn’t register until he looked at Gold again, and saw that he was holding a small silver rectangle.

“What?” He turned away from the girl, and she slumped against the stairs. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s a Minox subminiature camera,” Gold said coolly. “One of several in my possession.” 

“What?”  Hurriedly, Spencer zipped up his fly. “What the hell are you doing with a spy camera?”

“Taking pictures of my wife.”

The pieces fell into place. “All night you’ve been doing this? With everyone?”

“Most of the cameras can be controlled remotely.”

That was as close to a confession as he would get from Gold, but he seemed to have missed a crucial part of this plan. Spencer barked a laugh. “You’re a lawyer, Gold, you should know better. Photos taken without consent and without a warrant aren’t admissible evidence in court.”

Gold looked honestly taken aback. “Court? Who said anything about using these photographs in a court of law?”

“Then what’s the point?”

“Really, Mr. Spencer? You can’t think of any other way these pictures might be useful? I know you’re not a family man so I can’t send this to your wife. But you wouldn’t want to see this image on the front page of the paper, would you?”

“Sidney Glass is a friend of mine. He wouldn’t--”

“He would if he knew I had a similar picture of him. One letter to Mayor Mills might ruin his credibility with her--and nobody wants to be on her bad side.”

“You cold-blooded bastard. You can’t do this to people.”

“I can and I have,” Gold said simply. He walked to the front door and opened it. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think Mrs. Gold needs to be put to bed.”

Bristling with anger, but defeated on all fronts, Albert Spencer left Gold’s house.

****

Dove carried Mrs. Gold up the stairs to the bedroom. She wasn’t unconscious, but was far too tipsy to walk under her own power. Mr. Gold walked beside him, leaning on his cane. 

“You can leave after this,” Mr. Gold said. “Lock up downstairs, and you can finish cleaning in the morning.”

“Yes, Mr. Gold.”

“Good man.” 

After a pause, Mr. Gold said: “You know, you were more than welcome to bring a bottle of champagne as well. You could have played the game with Mrs. Gold like any of the guests.”

Dove gave a nod of understanding. “I thank you for the offer, Mr. Gold, but I find it best not to mix business and pleasure.”

Mr. Gold gave a quiet snort. “You don’t shit where you eat, is what you mean. A wise policy.”

“As you say, Mr. Gold.”

They were upstairs now. Mr. Gold opened the door to his bedroom and flicked on the lights. 

“You can deposit her in the bathtub,” he said. “I’ll take her from here.”

****

With his wife in the claw-foot bathtub, Gold plugged up the drain and let the water run warm. It should be enough to wake her up.

She was still fully clothed--or as fully clothed as she ever was. As the water level rose, the thin layers of fabric began to float out away from her body. She was a pretty flower, though her petals were crumpled from a night of rough handling.

Groaning, she brought her hands up to her face. Spencer’s semen was still wet on her chin. Everything else had dried. Gold handed her a washcloth and she scrubbed her face with soap.

“I’ve brought you some water as well,” he said, offering her a blue glass bottle. 

“Thank you, Mr. Gold,” she breathed. 

It was a credit to her training that she remembered her manners even under these circumstances. Gold rewarded her with a fond, “Good girl.”

She gave him a bleary-eyed smile, then dunked her head into the water. Gold offered her the hair products she used to wash that unruly mess. 

It wasn’t his habit to fetch things for his wife, but she was currently so inebriated that asking her to care for herself would be cruel. And Gold wasn’t feeling cruel tonight. 

“The party was a success,” he told her. “Everyone we invited came.”

Mrs. Gold let out a small chuckle. “They sure did.”

Gold grinned at her. “And you took them all, as I knew you would. The most able slut in Storybrooke had her greatest triumph yet.”

Eyes closed, she ran her fingers through her lathered hair. “When can I fuck you, Mr. Gold? Tonight?”

“Yes, I’ll fuck you tonight when you’re done with your bath. Then tomorrow I’ll see what pains I can add to your hangover.”

She let out a sound, both fearful and desirous. The perfect combination that always drove both of them mad.

Gold licked his lips. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll push you to the edge, then make sure you get everything you want. You were a very good girl tonight.”  

“Thank you, Mr. Gold.” She dunked her head into the bath again for a final rinse. 

“Perhaps tomorrow we can develop the pictures as well.” There was a dark room in the basement, created when Gold realized the sorts of photographs he wanted to take couldn’t be trusted to Storybrooke One-Hour Photo. “That way you can see just how good of a girl you were.”

Mrs. Gold lay back in the tub. “Twenty-one,” said. “I sucked twenty-one cocks in one night.”

“Just like I wanted you to. Happy birthday, Mrs. Gold.”

A grin played on her face. “What will we do for next year?”

Gold leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

[nightwhispcrs]

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ — here's my post-hiatus/new season starter call for my muses that could use more threads! at least some of these will have a fall/autumn theme and for my sanity many of them will probably be set at my muses' place of work.

adam newman, 33, senator & coffee shop owner — ( 1/3 ) drusilla

arnold novak, 28, socially awkward landscaper — ( 1/3 ) helaena targaryen

craig manning, 23, musician & photographer — ( 2/3 ) emily junk, nettles

gael martinez, 29, artist — (2/2 ) nie huaisang, kauul hilo

irina denali, 28, vampire esthetician law school student — ( 2/3 ) nettles, lucy westenra

dr. jack shephard, 35, spinal surgeon — ( 2/3 ) carlisle, pildo

jim hopper, 45, private investigator — ( 2/3 ) jihyo, joel miller

lenny pierce, appears 25, twilight oc hybrid — ( 1/2 ) astrid hofferson

michael guerin, appears 31, space alien cowboy — ( 2/3 ) jake wheeler, martin blackwood

monica geller — ( 1/1 ) dain aetos

naomi pierce, 34, luxuy smuggler socialite — ( 1/2 ) kenna

ramona flowers, 25, vintage store manager — ( 2/3 ) helaena targaryen, evie grimhilde

dr. reid oliver, 37, asshole neurosurgeon — ( 0/3 )

roman roy, 36, bar owner — ( 0/2 )

sarah walker, 29, cia agent — ( 3/3 ) mia winters, dale cooper, will graham

sue storm, 31, meterologist — (2/3 ) kate carter, yoon jisoo

violet baudelaire, 24, mechanical engineer — ( 1/3 ) archie kennedy

zoe rivas, 24, actress & wine bar host — ( 2/2 ) gina porter, jeremiah fisher

[anewkindofme]

can you classify dr. hopper/jiminy cricket?

I feel Archie is an obvious caregiver. He’s a therapist who would be amazing to a Little. He’d implement play therapy, sensory activities and read lots of books

Send me a character from fandoms on this list and I’ll classify them!

[a-happy-beginning]

Let me do it the way my conscience tells me to.

—Dr. Archie Hopper, Once Upon a Time, “That Still Small Voice”

[amirajones]

The Princess and the runaway Princess pt. 13

I couldn't say how long I slept but it was the best sleep I ever had. Knowing I was in the one place no one would really catch me. Killian held me close which only added to my comfort as I slept. So waking to his devilishly handsome face only brought a smile.

"morning luv." Killian said

"morning." Amira said

Being with him was always good but I was being selfish with him. I knew where he was, where the ship was and the men were kept away for now. So when he kept on the ship I didn't really argue as I looked at my phone seeing two voicemails and nine missed calls from Regina. I put my phone to my ear listening to the voicemails.

"I don't know who you think you are now not showing up but trust me princess you better come in." Regina said on the first one which I deleted

"Ami where are you? Went by your apartment and the pier but I didn't see the ship. Call me as soon as you can sis." Snow said on the 2nd voicemail.

I didn't worry about Regina anymore and put the phone away. Killian came through the door placing a bag by me and I looked at him curiously.

"I talked to one of the men. They went and got you this under my orders so you dont starve. After all you have to eat considering things have changed." Killian said

I smiled knowing that was how things were as I looked in the bag. "You must of talked to Smee, he knows Ruby knows all my favorites." Amira said

"yes well Mr. Smee mentioned you took charge in my absence" Killian said

I merely shrugged as I ate. Truth I couldn't tell you how long I stayed there. I know sometimes I snuck off the ship to check out apartments and well to charge my phone.

After two months going on three and needing new clothes to plan my sister agreed to take me shopping for clothes that would fit. The outside world of Storybrooke suddenly didn't seem an issue to me. Once I had it I returned to the ship as I heard muffling cries and after changing I checked it out seeing Dr. Hopper.

"Archie?" Amira said knowing she just heard Snow say something about him being dead.

I carefully climbed down remembering my extra weight as I removed his gag. He seemed surprised to see me at first and well showing now but it took him time. I had a cup of water I reached for and offered it to him which he took a drink from it.

"Selena what are you doing here?" Archie asked

"I'm a pirate and my boyfriend is the Captain." Amira said "why are you here?"

"Cora, she kidnapped me so your boyfriend could interrogate me." Archie said

"Right the dark one. He's kept me out of the loop of it all." Amira said

I didn't get much time to talk to Archie as I was magically pulled out of there and Archie was gagged again. I looked just as Killian pulled me to him seeing Cora.

"Captain you need to keep this one on a leash." Cora said

"I'm nobody's pet Cora." Amira said

"why were you down there?" Killian asked

"I was offering him some water after all he can't tell you anything if he's dehydrated and starving!" Amira said and I walked away to his Cabin where he insisted I stayed.

Cora watched me walk away seeing the mood swings were setting in. She must of noticed I was at the three month mark maybe a little longer but I didn't care at all what she thought.

"are you making her see a doctor?" Cora asked Killian

"according to Selena the only doctor is Whales and she refuses to go see him. Says he creeps her out." Killian said

I assume in Killian's eyes he was getting everything he wanted. Working on his revenge, watching over me as our child was growing waiting for the day he or she would be here. The only down side was having Cora around.

Another few weeks passed each day Killian bringing in food one of the men bought from the diner. When Killian left me alone with Dr. Hopper I'd share some of it with him so he wasn't starved.

"your boyfriend seems determined." Archie said

"well I wouldn't expect anything less of him. Honestly I can see past the act he puts up. He's hurting inside." Amira said

I put my hand on my stomach sometimes and imagine the gender of the baby. Boy or girl I'd love it either way but I wanted a girl someday. That was my secret though.

"you must be very happy to be this far." Archie said

"I wish it was that easy. My father wouldn't approve of any of it." Amira said as she ate and sighed "he'd disown me for being pregnant let alone in love."

"I see that's why you're here. Your not here against your will but because you love your Captain." Archie said

"he taught me everything I know about being a pirate." Amira said

Archie and I had casual conversations. As much as I wanted to free him my vow of loyalty kept me from untying him. When Killian came in I left the area not leaving a single clue to what was going on. My only request was he leave Archie alive. I knew my time staying on the ship was limited in fact my sister ended up finding me a new apartment that I could get near hers with room to consider for a baby and if Killian didn't want to stay on the ship. I smiled knowing luckily my cursed self saved quite a bit of money aside for a new apartment. So I left the ship going to meet my sister and getting things set up for getting the apartment. I walked with Snow checking it out first to see if I'd like it.

"it's big enough for three people. I know you've been living with him." Snow said

"I can't exactly say no. I'd have everything I would need right here sort of." Amira said

"have you been to whale to check and see if the baby is healthy? Do you know how far along you are?" Snow asked

I didn't answer her more because I wasn't in the mood to argue. Whales was creepy in his own way nothing could change my mind on that. Snow could probably read the answers.

"you need to go see him at least once. I can find you a midwife to help out." Snow said

"No. I refuse to go to him." Amira said

After finalizing the apartment, Snow practically forced me to go see Whales. Even with refusing I could tell I was probably farther along then I thought. Still when we got to the hospital she insisted I be seen for a check up. They took us back to a room and I was more willing to let the nurses do their job than whales. Seeing my discomfort he instructed one of the nurses what to do as they took a look.

"well Selena, seems you have about a little less than four or three months." Dr. Whales said as he was looking "do you want to know the gender?"

Deep down I did want to know but I shook my head. Killian and I discussed it and he didn't want to know till the day the child arrived. If I found out then I would want to tell him. Snow talked with Whales though as she planned to have a baby shower she called it for me so I'd have things ready. Now that we knew time was limited it was best to make arrangements. After leaving there I didn't say a word to her much except taking the pictures with me to look at.

"it's amazing, isn't it? New life being created by you." Snow said

"yeah it is something." Amira said

Killian didn't have a phone so I went by the Jolly Roger. He was waiting outside it and saw me as he went to me hugging me close. I kissed him as a simple greeting.

"luv what's gotten into you?" Killian asked

"my sister helped me get an apartment. A different one it's closer to her." Amira said but as I watched him I seen it seemed he didn't like the idea of Snow being so close.

"you have me." Killian said

"I know but I'm progressed in my pregnancy. I can't stay on the ship, we need this to stay together. I have just one thing to ask don't get yourself killed." Amira said

Luckily I got Killian to agree to moving in to the apartment. He kept me sheltered from the chaos he was causing in town. Still when we walked in the apartment he looked around clearly not used to such things but I walked him through everything that came with an apartment. He noticed my laptop on the bed which he went over picking it up.

"what is this?" Killian asked

I walked over taking it from him "it's a laptop. It connects to something called the internet." Amira said

I knew he was up to something when he smiled at me. He missed me as he made me look at him.

"stay here." Killian said

He left, if I knew he was up to no good I would of tried to stop him. He knew what he had was important but stopping him from going after The dark one was impossible. I sat there waiting and looked over names but I knew Archie needed freed so I left the apartment going against his words taking my chances with Cora as I went on the ship and went below deck. I opened the place using my sword to free Archie and let him climb up.

"Thank you Selena." Archie said and I smiled at him

"time for you to go home Archie." Amira said

"you set me free. Won't you get in trouble?" Archie asked

"well I need advice. I was going to look over names but there's one name for a boy I was considering. My Captain had a brother." Amira said

"you are considering naming your baby after the brother? It's very sentimental." Archie said

I heard footsteps on the deck knowing there was no way Killian was there. I hesitated going up thinking it could of been Cora but when they came below deck I saw Belle.

"Belle" Amira said

"Hello Amira." Belle said and seen Archie "Archie you're alive?"

"he's been here the whole time. Why what's going on in town?" Amira asked

"well there was a funeral service. No one knew where to find you or we'd of told you." Belle said

I had to think that was why he was tied up with Cora showing up. I recalled that day well as the day Killian held me close till Cora left.

"I'm setting Archie free but I needed his assistance." Amira said

Archie soon left leaving me and Belle below deck. I previously told her about my alliance with the pirates and I didn't regret it one bit. It wasn't long though more movement could be heard and soon we both saw Killian.

"luv, you're supposed to be at the apartment." Killian said

"I had to ask Archie something. He's good with advise and it wasn't like he could tell you anything." Amira said

Belle was looking for something clearly something that was brought here earlier. I saw the Shaw on Killian's hook.

"looking for something?" Killian asked her

"that doesn't belong to you." Belle said

"oh,it does now." Killian said

I seen Belle run for a close Gun I didn't realize Belle had. Killian grabbed it first with a laugh as he pointed it at her but I moved infront of her.

"luv move." Killian said

"she's my friend. No." Amira said "she's the only one I had at the time. The shawl why do you have it?"

"if you must know it belonged to the dark one. He was going to use it to leave town." Killian said

"you could of destroyed it. Why didn't you?" Amira asked

He didn't have an answer for me so I came up with my own.

I shook my head "Milah." Amira said and I took Belle with me leaving the under part of the ship. Killian ran up after us and I didn't look at him.

"luv please." Killian said

"I won't fight with a ghost." Amira said as I let Belle go going off the ship. Belle went to get the shawl leaving with it while he was distracted. I didn't go to my apartment, I went to my sister practically crying as she comforted me. I thought we were past this, but anything when it came to Milah could get under my skin the wrong way when Killian tells me he loves me.

[believingispowerfulmagic]

Reunited at Last

Summary: Regina Mills lives a very mediocre life in the small town of Storybrooke, Maine. An orphan, she has no family to speak of, hasn’t had a love life since her high school sweetheart dumped her and her landlord Mr. Gold won’t even let her have a pet. She works a menial job in the cannery though she dreams of owning a bakery. Her existence is a lonely and boring one…until a young girl knocks on her door and says she is Regina’s daughter.

Diana has a book of fairy tales that she claims are real and that everyone in the Storybrooke is cursed. Though she doesn’t believe her at first, Regina starts to read the book herself and finds herself slowly starting to believe. She enters a fight to get back her happiness, her friends and her family–even if it means taking on the powerful Mayor of Storybrooke.

Chapter 1: FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Chapter 14: Decisions and Gossip

FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Excerpt:

"Hello, Regina," Dr. Hopper said, ushering her into his office. "How are you?"

She scratched Pongo behind his ear, just where she learned he liked, before sitting down. "I'm good," she replied. "I've definitely been infected by the holiday spirit."

He chuckled. "You and most of the town."

"Christmas certainly has come to Storybrooke," she agreed, thinking of all the decorations that had gone up since her last session. Granny's Diner had covered its windows in fake snow as well as Christmas lights and decorations. And the town had hung its lights over Main Street already, though they weren't lit yet. That would happen during the upcoming weekend when Mayor Nolan would also light the town tree.

And even though Regina was still nervous around the town's mayor, she couldn't wait for the event. Especially since she was going with Rob and their friends.

"I believe you were decorating your house this weekend," Dr. Hopper said. "How did that go?"

"It went very well," she replied, brightening as she thought of the fun night she spent with her friends. "My house looks lovely and I have a bunch of great memories now. And I feel very relaxed."

He chuckled. "I'm glad to hear that. But did you try any other methods of self-care?"

She nodded. "I took a nice long bath with a bath bomb and some scented candles. I then put on some soft music and used a face mask. It felt heavenly."

"Good," he replied. "I hope you make it a regular practice."

"I will," she said, already vowing to do it again later that month.

He nodded, writing something down. "Now, in our last session, we were discussing your romantic history. And I get the feeling you wanted to discuss it for a reason."

"Yes," she replied, feeling nervous again. "There's someone I'm interested in."

"I had a feeling that was the case," Archie said. "Is it Rob?"

Surprise filled her as she nodded. "How did you figure it out?"

He chuckled. "Well, you tend to smile when you say his name and your expression softens. And I notice that you tend to separate him from the rest of your friends when talking about them."

"Oh," she said, unaware she had done that. "But yes, I do have feelings that are stronger than friendship for Rob."

"And I'm guessing you want to pursue these feelings?" he asked.

She sighed as Pongo jumped onto the couch and curled up next to her. "Yes, but I'm afraid I can't."

"And why not?"

"It's…complicated," she said, deciding that was the best word. "And you have to promise not to think I'm crazy."

He tilted his head. "That word doesn't exist in this room."

"I know," she replied. "But I still worry that you're going to think it. So can you promise and put me at ease? Please?"

"Okay," he said. "I promise."

Relieved, she said: "It has to do with the storybook. I think Rob is really Robin Hood and Miriam is really Maid Marian. And if that's the case, then they are meant to be together - not him and me."

He paused, looking up at her. "So do you believe the storybook is real?"

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "Some days I do, some days I don't. But lately, the days I do are starting to outnumber the days I don't."

"Do you think Miriam has feelings for Rob?" Archie asked.

She shrugged. "Miriam says they are only friends and they don't seem to act like they have any feelings for each other."

He nodded. "And do you think Rob might return your feelings?"

"I don't know," she replied honestly again. "I don't know if what he's doing means he has feelings for me or if he's just being a good friend, you know? I just don't have enough experience with friendships or romances to know the difference."

"I think that's a very good observation," he replied. "Do you want to discuss it now?"

She took a deep breath. "I think so."

"Okay," he said. "Tell me more about your friendship with Robin."

"Well, he's always willing to help me out but he's like that with everyone else," she started.

Dr. Hopper held up his hand. "Let's not compare your relationship with him to his with anyone else. Let's just focus on yours."

She nodded. "Okay."

"Good," he replied, leaning back in his chair again. "I apologize for interrupting you. Please proceed."

"Thank you," she said, playing with Pongo's ear as he rested his head on her lap. "Well, as I said, he is always willing to help me. And he is a really good listener. He's the only other person I've told about my search for my possibly missing child."

Dr. Hopper paused his writing as he tilted his head. "That's a big deal."

"I know," Regina said. "But I just felt so comfortable talking with him about it and he's been so supportive. It felt really good."

"That's good," Dr. Hopper assured her. "Trust is important in any relationship, either platonic or romantic."

That gave Regina pause as she continued to pet Pongo, thinking through her interactions with Rob to see if he had confided anything to her in return. Unable to think of anything, she admitted: "I just don't know if Rob trusts me the same way I trust him."

"He may not," Dr. Hopper said. "We all build trust at different paces. It doesn't mean your friendship isn't strong."

"I guess," she replied, her heart sinking. "I just hope I'm not reading too much into Rob's actions."

Dr. Hopper nodded. "That's an understandable concern."

"Do you have any recommendations?" she asked him, hoping he would be able to help her with her conundrum.

"I do," he replied. "It's going to be simple but sound hard - you should talk to him."

Regina frowned, nodding. "You're right. That does sound hard. What if he doesn't like me that way? What if I scare him off and he decides he doesn't want to be my friend anymore?"

"That is a risk you're going to have to take," he replied. "And it's not one you have to take right away. You can continue to build a friendship with him so that when you do have the discussion about your feelings, you can be more confident that he isn't going to stop being your friend."

"I guess that makes sense," she said slowly. "And I can better sort out my feelings to make sure it isn't just infatuation because of the attention he's showing me."

He nodded. "I think that's a very wise thing to do to make sure you're not mistaking friendship for something more."

She chewed her lip before asking: "Do you think that's what I'm doing now?"

"No, I don't," he replied. "You're not claiming that Rob is in love with you. Rather, you are approaching this maturely with your head and heart in the right place."

"Thank you," she said, glancing at the clock. "How much time do we have left?"

Archie glanced at his watch. "We're about halfway through. Why?"

"Because you skipped over the other part I'm worried about," she said. "The part about the storybook depicting Rob and Miriam as Robin Hood and Maid Marian."

"I did," he agreed. "I didn't think it was as important."

She pressed her lips together, her stomach turning. "Because you thought it was crazy?"

He shook his head. "I told you that word doesn't exist here."

"Then let's talk about it," she pressed. "Let's talk about the fact that Robin Hood and Maid Marian look like Rob and Miriam."

"Okay," he said, nodding. "You're right. This clearly bothers you and I apologize for dismissing it. Let's talk about why it bothers you."

She bit her lip, glad he was finally discussing it with her. Regina considered her answer before responding. "Because the more I read the book, the more I find myself believing Diana's theory about the curse. So if I am the Queen in the book, then Robin Hood plays an important role in that story but I don't think he is the man I end up falling in love with."

Dr. Hopper took off his glasses, studying her without them. "Are you certain the book is real?"

"Not completely, if I'm honest," she replied. "It still seems too fantastical to be completely true. But there are just so many coincidences that I can't just disregard them anymore. I mean, Rob Locke? Sounds pretty similar to Robin of Locksley. And Miriam Woods? Miriam is similar to Marian and she did live in the forest. If you had to modernize those names and try to hide their true identity while still winking at them, those are good choices."

"That is one way to look at it," he agreed. "Or perhaps their names inspired the illustrator to choose them when designing Robin Hood and Maid Marian."

She sighed, nodding. "I thought of that too. That's why I feel so torn."

"I understand," he said, glancing at the clock with a sigh. "Unfortunately, our time is over. We can continue discussing this at your next session."

"Okay," she replied, starting to stand. "Thank you."

He stood as well. "If I can say one more thing before our time is truly up. Don't stress about whether or not you're meant to be with Rob. Just continue building the relationship and enjoy the holidays. Okay?"

"I think I can do that," she said, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "Thank you."

"Good," Archie said. "Now, I hope you don't mind that our next appointment won't be until the New Year, do you?"

She shook her head. "I'm honestly busy until New Year with orders so that works."

They reached his desk and he opened his calendar. "I like it when everything sorts itself out. How does January fifth sound?"

"It sounds good," she replied, pulling out her little calendar to add it. "Same time?"

He nodded, writing her into his calendar. Archie then looked up and held out his hand. "If I don't see you, have a happy holiday."

She shook his hand. "You too."

Pongo then pushed against her free hand and she chuckled, scratching behind his ear. "Happy holidays to you too, Pongo," she cooed.

"He's definitely going to have a happy holiday," Archie said. "I tend to spoil him."

"Good," she replied, straightening up again. "He deserves it."

Dr. Hopper laughed as he nodded. "Yes, he does."

She wished him a happy holiday again before leaving the office, heading down the stairs to the front door. Regina stepped out into the cold air, shivering as a few flakes of snow hit her coat. Wrapping her scarf tighter around her neck, she started to walk back home as she hoped it only flurried until she was safe inside. She was likely going to have to start driving even though the office was close to her house as the winter was only going to get worse. And she definitely didn't want to get caught in a storm.

As she turned the corner onto her block, she thought of Archie's words to her. She decided not to worry about what the story in the book meant for her own life. For far too long, she had let outside forces control her life. But not this time. She was going to continue to be Rob's friend and see where their relationship went from there, no matter what the book said.

Nothing was going to control her and keep her from living her life ever again.

[rebelbyrdie]

2024 Ficlet Day

Ficlet 6 Part 3

This Isn't A Fairy Tale Pt 3

“So she was in deep?”

The Sheriff stated the obvious.  

Gold rolled his eyes.  How had Emma dealt with this man for five years?

“Obviously.  The Mills Family had never been infiltrated before, and Emma had to commit herself fully.”

David squinted at him, like he was trying to put together a puzzle.  

“How long was she under cover?”

The years since that operation melted away like they’d never happened at all.  Robert Gold had run a lot of ops, made a lot of deals, and had done things that could not be disclosed, ever.  All for Queen and Country, of course.  This one, though.  This mission would always haunt him.

“Almost two years.”

The Sheriff was an open book.  He had no poker face to speak of.  Gold could see it all.  Shock, disbelief, outrage, confusion.  He’d thought he knew Emma and was finding out that he definitely did not. 

“And what, exactly was her cover? What was she trying to find?  What did she do to get herself into witness protection?  What caused all this chaos?!”

Again, the Sheriff didn’t understand the gravity of his questions.  There was a reason that off-the-books operations existed.  People like David Nolan didn’t need to know (couldn’t handle knowing) what people like he and Emma did to keep the world from spinning out of control.

“Emma did her job.  She-”

The interrogation room’s door flew open.  Nolan jumped and twisted around, hand on his gun.  Gold didn’t move.  He was surprised it had taken this long.  

“That’s enough!”

A woman with short black hair, piercing eyes, and rage painted on her face like theater makeup, stood in the doorway.

Mary Margaret had always been a tad dramatic.  He’d used that to his advantage, once.  That had been a long time ago, though.  Things had changed since then.

“That.  All of that is classified.  You have no right-”

Gold waved her off.  

“I have every right, Snow.”

He called her by her code name because this was old business whether she liked it or not.

“That’s Supervisory Special Agent Blanchard to you, Gold.”

Mary Margaret, or MM as most of the team had called her, had left their world to work at the FBI.  Her highly-edited background with the State Department and Interpol had earned her a nice position in the BAU.  She probably thought she was making up for her sins.  As if catching a few serial killers would wash the blood from her hands.

“You’re late.”

He’d expected her days ago.  She’d probably had to wait for permission from her up-tight Beuaru superiors.  While they’d hemmed, hawed, and bickered, people had died.  Typical beurocratic nonsense.

“You’re lucky you’ve survived this long.  The Mills have people inside Quantico, you know that.”

The Mills had people everywhere.

There were two other agents in the doorway.  Snow had foolishly brought more lambs to the slaughter with her.  She was going to get her happy little FBI family killed.  He knew them, of course.  The same way he knew David.  He’d kept tabs on his team.

Dr. Archibald Hopper stood silently observing everyone. He was one of the world’s leading experts on psychopaths and madmen.  The true-crime-junkies called him a real life Jack Crawford. He’d written several books, been given countless honors, and he was holding onto his sanity by a thread.  His superiors were well aware how close to a fully breakdown he was, but they kept him in the field.  They always wanted to squeeze one last case, one last victory, out of him before he was completely broken.  

Gold estimated he had two more months in him, tops.  Perhaps less after this.  The FBI would toss him away when he was of no more use to them.  All he would have left was a pension and PTSD.  

The other agent was a young woman, and Archie’s protoge. She was barely old enough to rent a hotel room, but was a certified genius.  She was the Beurus most prolific and most accurate criminal profilers.   Aurora Weathersby was also a raging drug addict.  Nobody at the FBI suspected anything, yet.  Even geniuses eventually overdosed, though.  At the rate she was shooting heroin, he estimated it would be sooner rather than later.

Mary Margaret had always liked pretty broken things.  She liked to play the healer, the cheerleader, the plucky adventurer who gave hope speeches and saved the day.  Her ability to manipulate people had made her one of his top agents. She was an expert interogator and had helped create more double and triple agents than any other operator he knew in any agency legitimate or off the books.

“I’m-We are taking this over.”

Of course she was.  MM was one of the only people the US government had that was even remotely qualified to handle this situation.  They thought they could sweep it all under the rug and spirit Emma away from the bad guys once more.  If she thought that was going to work, Mary Margaret was delusional.

“I didn’t call you.” 

Nolan protested like it mattered somehow.  

“The FBI can’t shove their nose in my case, without an invitation. I didn’t invite you.”

Snow finally looked at Nolan.  She tilted her head, and looked him up and down.  She was sizing him up, puzzling him out, preparing her strategy.  She was intrigued. 

“Get out of my station.”

Snow was caught off guard by that.  Her tightly controlled demeanor slipped for a moment.  If her bravado and hard attitude didn’t get them, her delicate features and doe eyes did.  Men never told her anything resembling no.  She’d broken terrorists and enemy operatives with ease.  Now a simple backwoods sheriff was standing up to her.  If the circumstances weren’t so dire, it would be comical.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into!”  

Snow got into the man’s space, trying to use proximity and her beauty to unbalance the man.

“I know Emma better than anyone.  More that that, I know Regina Mills.  You don’t want to go down this rabbit hole, Sheriff.  It won’t lead to anything good for you or your town.  Let the Beuarua handle this, please.”

The please was a good touch.  She was trying to appeal to those farm-boy manners.  

Only she was lying.  The Beuaru wasn’t handling this, she was.  The FBI wasn’t here because of the warzone that Storybrooke had become. He bet Quantico didn’t even know they were here. This came from way above and beyond the FBI.

MM was here for the same reason he was. To save their friend and settle a vendetta.  They’d shed blood, sweat and tears.  They’d lost people.  They’d lost their very souls.  Mary Margaret could no more stop being Snow than he could leave being The Dark One behind. 

David Nolan, sheep farmer-turned-sheriff, was stuck in a bad action move.  The kind that kind-hearted sheriffs did not survive.

“No.  You used to know Emma.  She’s not that person anymore. She isn’t an agent of whatever and whoever.  She is a deputy in the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department.  My town.  My department.  My deputy.  My friend.  I’m not going to just throw my hands up and walk away.  That’s not how it works.  I want answers, now.  No more secrecy, or ABC jurisdictional crap.  We’re all here to help Emma.  So get to talking.”

Gold had to give credit where credit was due, the man was brave.  Foolish, but brave.  Unfortunately for David, that kind of bravery came in handy and Gold knew exactly how to use it.  Use him.  So did Snow.  So did Emma.  Worst of all, so did Regina Mills.

“Well bring your little friends in here, Snow.  Let’s all get comfortable.  I am only going to spin this little tale once.”

Robert Gold was many things.  An ex-husband, an estranged father, an avid football fan, a liar, a killer.  Some people called him a mastermind.  Others called him a puppet master.  They were all right and wrong.  He was everything and nothing.  He’d carved parts of himself away, little by little, until the only thing left was the Agent ominously code named The Dark One.  It was all he had left now.

Or so he’d though.  Gold chuckled darkly.  At himself, at the situation, at God.   Everything old was new again.  He’d lead this team, this operation, this disaster.  It was his greatest acomplishment and his greatest failure.  He’d spent what felt like centuries trying to bring Cora Mills to justice.  He’d sacraficed a wife, a son, a lifetime to it.  

Now he had to bare his black and bloodied sole to a handfull of people who thought they could help.

Maybe, just maybe, there was enough of the man he once was left in him to believe that was possible.

[hjbirthdaywishes]

February 12, 2024

Happy 60 Birthday to Raphael Sbarge.