#me saying this when she literally fights an evil fairy queen with a cloak of human skin but like WHATever. avg rcu shit honestly

[mecharose]

tbh after the COSMIC HORROR CAPITALISM NIGHTMARE!!! that is the rest of the rando cinematic universe writing the maya dnd story is so cozy :3

[kelyon]

Golden Rings 11: A Doctor

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Mrs. Gold seeks some medical advice

Read on AO3 

Her horse thunders down the mountaintop. Cloak streaming behind her, her loose hair tangles in the wind. The leather satchel, in which she carries her most treasured possessions, bounces on her back. She kicks at her horse to make him go faster. Though unused to such urgency, the farm horse neighs and doubles his efforts. They go at a full gallop, bolting away from the castle, their home.

She has to look like she is afraid.

On the road in the forest, she comes upon a prince and his knights. They are travelling up the mountain she is coming down. She has seen this prince before, though he doesn’t know her. Her husband says she can trust the prince and his true love to always do what they think is good. This band of soldiers is armed to the teeth, but they are no threat to her. 

Not if she does this right.

“Oh thank the gods!” she cries when she sees them. Her voice is pitched with fear and relief. “You found me!”

The prince slows his horse to stop and talk to her. “Who are you?” he asks. “Did you come from the castle on top of the mountain?”

“I did!” Tears choke her voice, but her eyes are dry. “I used to live there. The Dark One, he--”

“The Dark One can’t hurt you anymore,” the prince says. He is kinder than most men in his position. “That monster has been defeated. He will never hurt anyone again.”

Behind the prince, the knights nod and laugh in agreement.

Now tears fill her eyes. “Is he dead?”

“He’s captured.” The man who speaks is dressed as a knight, but he has the stature and features of a dwarf. Atop a horse, he is at the prince’s right hand. He seems to speak with authority. “Not even his magic can get him out.”

She shudders. Hopefully, these men will think that she is overcome with terror at what the Dark One has done, and not at what might be done to him. 

“He kept me a prisoner.” She does not lie. “He did things to me, unspeakable things.”

Certainly unspeakable in polite company.

“Then don’t speak of it.” Again, the prince is kind. He could so easily dismiss her, be rude and condescending. But instead he is gentle, considerate. It is easy for a man to show compassion when a pretty girl presents herself as a victim. “You are safe now.”

“Are you going to the castle?” she asks.

“We are.” The prince straightens in his saddle. “We need to find out what other evils the Dark One might have brewing in his fortress.”

“You can’t!” This is far from the most crucial step of the plan, but it is the part she cares about the most. She does not want these men poking about in her husband’s things. “You will take your lives into your hands if you try to invade that place.”

 “We have protections against dark magic,” the dwarf-knight says. “The Blue Fairy herself enchanted our weapons and armor.”

“Is she here with you?” She looks over the knights, wide-eyed in her show of innocence. “Surely such a powerful force for good would want to oversee this victory herself. And of course it would be as safe for her as it is for all of you!”

The prince gives her a careful look and does not answer her question. “How did you escape?”

“Once the Dark One left the castle, nothing stopped me from sneaking out through the stables.” Nothing would have stopped her from leaving the castle even when he was in residence. It was her home and he never forced her to do anything. “But it is much more dangerous to get in than to get out. There are traps and wards and all kinds of dangers to those he doesn’t want to be there.”

The prince furrows his brow. “I’ve come to that castle univintied before.”

“He wanted you there,” she answers grimly. “They say he knows everything, that nothing happens that he hasn’t already foreseen.”

“He didn’t see our trap coming,” the dwarf says.

She covers her mouth so the men can’t see her stern face falter. Her husband saw through their plan to capture him from the very beginning. He practically put the idea into their heads. 

“You have no idea what he is capable of.” She says when she trusts herself to speak without smirking. “Please stay away from that place, for the sake of your own lives.” She looks at the prince. “I am already severed from my husband because of the Dark One’s devious machinations. I would not have any other bride lose the man she loves.”

He sits back at that. “You need to find your love?”

“I don’t know where he is!” Her voice breaks, and that is not a part of the act. “I would give anything to be with him again.”

“Do you know where he might be?”

Sitting on her horse, she is at eye level with the prince. Nevertheless, she makes an effort to look small and weak. Helpless. A damsel in need of rescuing. “He could be anywhere. He might be somewhere in the Queen’s kingdom. And the gods know what happens to people there.”

The prince’s mouth tightens into a hard line. “That woman is not a queen anymore,” he declares. “And that kingdom belongs to my wife.” He turns to his men. “Change of plans! We’re going to escort this young woman to safety. And then we’re going to remember who our real enemy is! We’ll redouble our efforts to take away the witch’s power so she can never hurt innocent people again!”

The knights cheer, all except for the gruff dwarf. “What about the Dark One’s castle? There could be some kind of weapon there that we could use to defeat her.”

“Yes, Grumpy, there might be,” the prince says. “But it could also blow up in our faces. Literally. I, for one, want to look upon my child before I die. We’re going back to Snow.”

On her farm horse, she rides along with the knights and the dwarf and the prince. Later, she is at a castle that is not her home. She is presented to the court. A pregnant woman  dressed in white sits on a throne. Her hair is as black as ebony and her lips are as red as blood. 

Her story is told, her plea for help heard. A talking cricket questions her. Nothing she tells him is a lie. Her husband is gone. She is afraid of the Evil Queen. The Dark One did things to her that none of them could ever imagine. She is good and she seeks a place in this haven they have created. 

A light shines over her. Floating, sparkling, blue light. It threatens to blind her if she looks at it too long or too closely. Through squinting eyes, she can see that the light is really a tiny person. 

No. Not a person. A fairy.

Her husband never had anything good to say about fairies.

The thing looks like a woman. It speaks with a woman’s voice. It flutters around her, examines her. It is trying to see into her soul, to judge whether she is worthy of kindness or trust. 

“You have been touched by dark magic,” the fairy says as it looks her over. “Penetrated by it. Deeply… over and over… everywhere…”

The stakes are too high for her to laugh at what the fairy says. She maintains a stone face.

“But your heart is full of love!” the fairy announces joyfully.  It addresses the crowd. “This is a pure soul, a good person. We must welcome her!”

The court claps and cheers. The woman in white stands to her feet. Holding her belly, she is assisted by the prince and a girl in a long red cloak.

She is embraced and greeted, welcomed to the fight against evil. Someone asks, “What is your name?” 

Before she can answer, everything fades away.

****

It was still dark when Mrs. Gold woke up. Her dream had been filled with light and color and noise. Waking up to blackness and near-silence was a shock.

More shocking, Mr. Gold was in bed with her. She felt the warmth and the weight of him on the mattress. Heard the gentle steadiness of his breathing. It must be early enough that he hadn’t woken up yet.

They had never been the sort of couple who copied each other’s nighttime routines. The trial of two people crowding around a tiny sink to brush their teeth at the same time had never come up in their marriage. Mr. Gold had always kept his own hours, and he allowed her to sleep whenever she wanted to. If her husband wanted her, he had no qualms about waking her up and putting her to work.

But lately, the differences in their schedules had become more pronounced. Sometimes Mr. Gold would stay in his study until she was already asleep. Or sometimes he would have the light turned off before she even came upstairs. No matter what time he went to bed, he always got up earlier than she did.

Almost every morning, she woke up to an empty bed. 

As her dream faded away, Mrs. Gold was left with a crucial memory: Her husband was gone from her. In the dream, the man she loved had been captured or kidnapped. Something terrible had happened to him. He was far away, but she would go to him and get him back. Now, in the real world, Mr. Gold was right next to her.

But she was running out of ways to reach him. 

How long had it been? She didn’t like keeping track of the days. That would just make all the changes in her life more real, and she didn’t want them to be real. If she didn’t know how long it had been, it would be easier to convince herself that it hadn’t been that long. This was just a fluke, a dry spell. It wasn’t as bad as she thought.

She could convince herself of that, until she remembered that Rent Day was this Sunday. Then she knew exactly how long it had been since her husband had last touched her. 

A month.

It had been a month without sex. A month without him. A month without punishments, lessons, or orgasms. A month since the last time she had gotten on her knees and kissed his shoes. A month since Mr. Gold had called her a good girl in that breathless, exhausted way he did when he was really satisfied, when he really meant it. 

A month since he had last looked at her like she was beautiful--or pathetic. Something to be treasured and degraded all at once. Those were always the best times, when he gave her both. Pleasure and pain, affection and malice, hot lust and cold disdain all at once. Perfect whore, he would call her then. Filthy angel, delectable cockslut. 

Mrs. Gold let out the faintest of moans. His voice could always bring her off. Now just thinking of it was enough to make her wet. His voice and his words and the way his lips curled  back like a warning. It always made tension coil inside her, as she waited for those words to become actions.

Before she could do anything stupid, Mrs. Gold pulled her hands up from under the covers. She clasped them together over her stomach on top of the blanket. That was one of the biggest rules: She was not allowed to touch herself for her own pleasure. 

She could tease herself, when Mr. Gold ordered her to. But she was never allowed to have an orgasm without him. Early in their marriage, it had taken her a while to remember all of Mr. Gold’s rules, and even longer to get into the habit of obeying him without question. He had been patient with her about many things, but he had no tolerance for her being self-centered with the body he had bought. 

Even in the middle of this weird patch they were going through, she knew better than to disobey. It wasn’t that she was afraid that Mr. Gold would punish her--if anything, she was becoming afraid that he wouldn’t. But who you really are is who you are when no one else is looking. She wanted to be Mr. Gold’s good girl. 

So she would follow the rules. Even if he wasn’t going to enforce them. She would do it because she wanted to.

She would do it because she loved him.

In the darkness, Mrs. Gold shut her eyes against the tears. She rolled over to her side, so she was facing her husband’s back. She wanted to reach out to him, to touch the soft silk of his pajamas. She wanted to curl up around him, throw her arm over her chest and let their legs get tangled up in each other. She wanted to cling to him and cry.

But she didn’t.

Pain sat heavy in her chest. It made it difficult to breathe. Mr. Gold didn’t like to be touched. And he hated her touching him without permission. Almost every time they had sex, he would make sure her hands were out of the way. Tied together, handcuffed to the furniture, tucked away under her body, or held under his own strong grasp. He could only relax when he knew she was under control. 

Clenching her jaw, Mrs. Gold got on her back again. She wasn’t allowed to touch him any more than she could touch herself. She really should just try to sleep.

But all of her tossing and turning must have disturbed Mr. Gold. While she was on her back, he rolled over to his other side. Now he was facing her. 

He wrapped his arm around her waist, as natural as breathing. Still asleep, he snuggled up to her body. His face buried into the nape of her neck. She felt his lips move against her skin as he murmured, “Sweetheart.”

Mrs. Gold let out a breath. 

The sudden contact--more touch and more gently than she had gotten in ages--brought tears to her eyes. And the words! Had Mr. Gold ever called her sweetheart? Had he ever said anything so loving before? This was like a dream. But she knew she was awake.

She didn’t move. She didn’t dare. She didn’t know how long this embrace would last. She didn’t know how long it might be before her husband touched her again.

Staying as still as she could, Mrs. Gold kept awake until dawn, savoring every stolen moment of her husband’s love. 

****

When she woke again, he was gone. Breakfast was normal. Mr. Gold acted with as much polite distance as he had for the past month. He didn’t seem to remember what he had done in the night. Or if he did, he wasn’t going to talk about it.

Mrs. Gold read the paper aloud, as always. There was a good write-up about the earthquake in the abandoned mines that had happened recently. The mayor’s kid had gotten stuck in a mine shaft and that blonde lady--she was Sheriff Graham’s deputy now--had gone in to rescue him. 

In other news Marco the handyman had fallen off a ladder in front of the hardware store while he was replacing a burnt out lightbulb. He had broken a bone and sought treatment at Storybrooke General Hospital.

“Huh,” Mrs. Gold said after finishing that article. “I never thought of that.”

“What’s that?” Mr. Gold took up the last bite of his eggs and toast. As usual, he wasn’t really looking at her. 

“Oh, it’s nothing important.” Nonchalance was as close to lying to him as she would ever dare. “I just… remembered that doctors exist.” She giggled. “It’s amazing the things you don’t think about. Or at least the things I don’t think about!” 

Normally--or what she used to think of as normally--Mr. Gold would have ordered her to stop playing dumb and tell him what was going on. He would remind her that he knew exactly how stupid she was. She couldn’t fool him by putting on the bimbo act she did for other people.

But today he just made a noncommittal sound and stood up to clear the breakfast dishes. Mrs. Gold stayed seated and let him move around her. She bit her lip and twisted her wedding ring over her finger.

It had been a month. She couldn’t pretend any longer. Something was wrong with her husband. And she had to find out what. 

 ****

The next day, she dressed to impress. Black silk thigh-highs with a line down the back, like old-time Hollywood bombshell. Shiny red heels that would match her red sunglasses. She even got out the black latex bra and garter belt she liked to wear on special occasions. With a tight black dress, cherry red lipstick, and a diamond bracelet, she was ready to go. 

All she needed was a wide-brimmed hat and a cigarette and she’d look like a goddamned femme fatale.

Mr. Gold blinked when she came down for breakfast, but he didn’t mention her outfit. That only strengthened her resolve. She had to get answers, and soon. 

They went their separate ways. Mr. Gold had taken some leftovers for his lunch at the shop. He gave her money and she assured him that she would go to Granny’s if she got hungry.

Her first stop was the drugstore to pick up her birth control. Not that she needed it, but you never knew when things could change. Unlike every other month for as long as she could remember, Mr. Gold hadn’t called in her prescription. When Tom Clark, the pharmacist, realized that she was going to wait in the store until he filled her prescription, he sneezed so hard he nearly blew his nose off. What a stupid little man.     

She killed time until lunch was well under way at the diner. It was a cold day, so she had to spend more time in stores than out on the streets. Even if she didn’t have Mr. Gold’s attention, she could still get a thrill out of the stir she could cause just by walking around in a getup like this. The sunglasses helped disguise the fact that she was watching people stare at her. 

The patio outside Granny’s was empty except for two pre-teen girls drinking hot chocolate. They were huddled up together, playing some sort of hand-held video game. 

“How are we supposed to prove that this is the real sacred urn of Kurain? You know the prosecution is going to want evidence.”

“It’s gotta be fingerprints.”

“But whose?”

She stopped and cocked her head at them. What kind of video game required evidence for the prosecution? Mrs. Gold had an easier time recognizing the girls than she did understanding their game. 

The blonde girl in the lime green puffy coat was Paige Lewis. She was the one holding the device that sounded out a stream of tension-filled music. Her parents owned a large house in New Town. Tim Lewis was an insurance salesman who had a debt with Mr. Gold that he paid extra to keep his wife from knowing about. Of course Paige didn’t have a clue about that. She was a kid, and rich enough to be carefree and happy.     

The other girl was owl-eyed and sallow-skinned. Her brown hair was lank and lifeless. Instead of a real coat, she was wearing an oversized insulated hoodie--the kind a man would wear for hazardous outdoor work. Lexi. Wasn’t that her name? Lexi Paisan. Her father had died in an accident at the cannery a few years ago. The mother, Suzy Paisan, was a waitress and a housemaid here at Granny’s. The rent was never late from them, but Lexi never had new clothes. She always looked cold and hungry.

Today was no exception.

Both girls noticed her looking at them. Paige turned off the game, and Lexi’s mouth dropped open. 

“Damn!” she said, with more energy than her sullen demeanor would have indicated possible. “You look like a million bucks!”

Mrs. Gold snorted and walked over to them. “Not that much, not in this outfit.”

Paige spoke next, “Wait, do you literally have a dress that costs a million dollars?”

“Not one dress, no. But I bet if you added up all my clothes and shoes and bags and jewelry together it would come pretty close.”

“That’s crazy.” Paige spoke like she was the complete authority on the subject.

She looks just like her mother.

Mrs. Gold blinked. Why had she thought that? Paige’s mother, Mia Lewis, was a thin, auburn-haired Realtor with hazel eyes. Paige had a mop of curly blonde hair, beautifully plump cheeks, and dark eyes that sparkled with a specific type of knowing mischief. She was a pretty girl, but she didn’t take after her mother at all. 

Weird. 

Lexi was still staring at Mrs. Gold. “How do you walk in shoes that tall?”

Smirking, she lifted one foot off the ground to give the girls a better look at her heels. “Practice. And your feet get numb after a while.”

“Is that healthy?” Paige asked.

“Nope.”

Lexi nodded her approval. “Badass.” 

Mrs. Gold snorted again. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but never that.”

“How much did those shoes cost?” Lexi asked. 

She didn’t answer. This pair of designer heels had been a gift from Mr. Gold. She had seen an ad for them in one of her magazines and pointed them out to him. He said that he would buy them for her, if she let him make her thighs as shiny and cherry-red as the shoes themselves. When she agreed, he took off his belt and had her lift up her skirt right then and there. Her legs were still bright red when he had finished fucking her, and the bruises had lasted for weeks. 

That was how much these shoes had cost.

Instead of saying any of that, Mrs. Gold put on her widest smile. “Shouldn’t you guys be in school?”

Paige furrows her eyebrows. “It’s Thanksgiving break. We’re off until Monday.”

“Oh.” 

Weird that the major holiday at the end of November could completely pass her by. But it checked out. Thanksgiving was tomorrow. And Rent Day was this Sunday. And it had been a month since Mr. Gold had fucked her. 

“Well,” she kept smiling. “I guess that’s what happens when you don’t go to school anymore! I’ll let you girls get back to your game.” 

****

Inside the diner, every table was full. Mrs. Gold took a moment to survey the scene. Leroy Miner and a few other rough-and-tumble working men lined the bar stools. Ruby Lucas was on the phone with orders for take out. Suzy Paisan walked past with a tray on each arm. And in a booth by the window, Doctors Hopper, Atwell, and Whale were lunching together and arguing.

Perfect. 

Without missing a beat, Mrs. Gold walked up to the table with the best view of the booths. There was already a customer at the table. Keith Sherwood, who never had his rent in on time. He was a younger man, scruffy and unkempt--like almost every man in Storybrooke. He had oddly pursed lips and a chin that looked like a butt. She’d always hated him.

“I want to sit here,” she announced coldly. “Alone.”

And that was all she needed to say. Bug-eyed, Keith swallowed the bite he had been chewing. He nodded vigorously and stood up.

“Yes, Mrs. Gold.”

He held out the chair he had been sitting in, but she walked around to the other side of the table and took her place. Delicately, she pushed away the plate where he still had half a tuna melt and a few scattered fries. 

“Let me clear that for you, Mrs. Gold.” Keith picked up his dishes and silverware and looked around frantically for a place to put them.

“Aren’t you going to tip your waitress?” She examined her fingernails, only slightly disappointed that she was missing the show of Keith trying to grab his wallet while still holding on to his garbage.

Somehow he managed. When she looked up, there were a few crumpled ones on the empty table and Keith was out of sight. 

She barely had time to pull out her purse before Ruby came running out from behind the counter with a pad and pen at the ready.

“Hello, Mrs. Gold! What can I do for you today?”

God, was it only a month ago that she had been shaking down little Ruby for her grandmother’s rent? A lot had changed since then. 

Mrs. Gold did not smile at Ruby. Instead, she placed one fifty dollar bill on the table. “I want a pumpkin spice latte, skim milk.” She set down another fifty. “Burgers and fries for those little girls on the patio.” Another bill. “And when Dr. Whale is done with his ‘meeting of the minds,’ you’ll let him know that his check has been taken care of.” Setting down the last fifty, Mrs. Gold looked up at the waitress’ bulging eyes. “And you will keep this all to yourself. Won’t you, Ruby?”

The cash was in Ruby’s apron pocket so fast it might have never been on the table at all. “Absolutely, Mrs. Gold.”

She rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses. 

**** 

As she sipped her too-sweet latte, Mrs. Gold observed the doctors in the booth on the other side of the restaurant. Every Wednesday, the shining stars of the Storybrooke health community met for lunch. Lunch and a ritual re-hashing of the exact same argument every week.

Dr. Atwell was the shortest and oldest of the three men, with gray hair and reading glasses. He had a high-pitched, piercing voice that carried over the bustle of the diner.

“You can’t deny the truth, Archie, and this is the oldest saying in the book: You’re not a real doctor if you haven’t delivered a baby!”

Dr. Hopper shook his head and chuckled good-naturedly. “If that’s the case, then you’re more a doctor than Victor.”

Dr. Whale made a face like he was wounded. “Well, Roy has an unfair advantage! Puppies come out seven at a time!”

All three men laughed. It was eventually agreed, as it was every Wednesday, that they would invite Phillipa Sherman to start coming to these lunches. Then the vet, the shrink, and the medical practitioner could all band together and taunt her for being a lowly dentist.

Shockingly, Dr. Sherman never made an appearance. 

Eventually, they gathered their coats, and Dr. Hopper’s umbrella, and went to the cash register to pay. Dr. Whale was last in line. After a moment of murmured conversation with Ruby, the good doctor looked over at Mrs. Gold.

He began to walk toward her, but before he got to her table she was already on her feet and out the door. 

On the patio, Paige and Lexi were hunched over their game again. The plates on the table in front of them were empty except for smears of ketchup and honey mustard.

Without looking behind her, Mrs. Gold strutted around the corner to the alleyway between Granny’s Diner and the Atlantic Twine and Net store. She leaned against the brick wall across from the dumpster with one foot propped back at an angle behind her. Perfectly casual.

Dr. Whale didn’t keep her waiting long. He followed her into the alley, his usually purposeful stride fumbling a little in this new circumstance. 

“Mrs. Gold.” He kept his hands in his coat pockets, maintained as respectful a distance as the cramped alley would allow. “I understand I owe you lunch.”

She lowered her sunglasses to meet his eyes. He wasn’t bad-looking, if you liked cocky young blondes. Evidence suggested that quite a few ladies around Storybrooke did. 

“You’re doing me a favor just by talking to me, Doctor.” She tossed her hair to expose her neck, watched his genial smile falter into something more serious. How much did he like what he saw?

He cleared his throat. “Is there… something I can do for you?”

 Mrs. Gold pushed off the wall and sauntered closer to him. She made her hips sway as she moved and watched his eyes follow the motion. Slowly, she brought her hand to her mouth, rubbed her thumb over her lower lip. Thank God this lipstick was smear-proof.

“There is something I want to ask you.” She kept her voice breathy, soft. Whale had to lean in to hear her. “But it’s… kind of naughty.”

The noise Whale made in the back of his throat sent a bolt of lightning through her. Not to her libido, but to her ego. Sex appeal was the only power she had, and it had been a solid month since she’d gotten a chance to really use it. 

When Whale was able to speak, his voice was thick and heavy. “I can be naughty.”

Mrs. Gold giggled and reached out to finger the lapel of his coat. It wasn’t bad, a navy blue wool blend. Not as high quality as any of Mr. Gold’s coats, but respectable. And it fit him, which was half the work of looking good in clothes.  

“See,” she said as she closed in the space between their bodies. “The thing I want…”

“Yeah?” They were too close for her to focus on all of Whale’s face, but she could see that his lips were twitching. He was getting excited, but he kept his hands in his pockets like a good boy.  

“I want…” She ran her hand up his collar and stretched out her finger to brush against his ear lobe. “Mr. Gold’s medical records.”

“What?” Dr. Whale straightened up and jerked away. “You--you want what?”

She stood her ground, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re his doctor. He’s my husband. I believe I have a right to know if there’s something wrong.”

Whale ran his fingers through his hair and blew out a long breath. “Oh, that was more effective than a cold shower,” he muttered. Then he looked at Mrs. Gold. “Was that what this was about the whole time?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “Depends on how well it worked.”

“Yeah, but just to be clear,” he said. “This is not a quid pro quo situation, is it? You were never going to deliver on any of that enticing body language.”

“Not unless Mr. Gold wanted me to.”

“And he doesn’t, does he?” Whale looked her over. For the first time since he entered the alley, he appeared to be using his brain. “He doesn’t know you’re talking to me.”

Mrs. Gold swallowed. Then she put on a smile. “It would be very nice of you not to mention it. I’d hate to give Mr. Gold a reason not to trust you!”

Whale opened his mouth, then closed it. He nodded, understanding the way she had set it up. The moment he had walked into an alley with another man’s wife, he had lost any moral high ground he might have ever had. 

“So,” he said slowly. “Whatever happens here… it stays between us. Does that work out for you, Mrs. Gold?”

She stuck out her hand and he shook it. “Deal,” she said brightly. 

Sighing, Whale stuck his hands back in his coat pockets. “I hope you know I can’t just pass out copies of my patient’s medical history.”

“That’s fine,” she said. “I don’t need a paper trail or anything. I just…” she trailed off. She had put so much effort into getting some answers, and now that she had the chance she didn’t even want to ask the questions. 

She took a breath and dug her fingernails into her palms. She had to do this. Her marriage was in trouble and she had to know why.

“I just need to know if Mr. Gold is sick.” When Whale didn’t say anything, she kept going until everything came bubbling out. “I don’t know if it might be heart disease, or somehow his leg got worse or if it’s like a hormone problem or ca--” She choked over the last word, the greatest fear, the enemy that could never be defeated, the war that would never be won or even survived. “Or something worse. And he won’t talk to me about anything and he’s acting strange and we haven’t…” Again she stopped, this time in embarrassment instead of fear. She took off her sunglasses and looked up at Dr. Whale. For the first time in a while, she said something truly honest. “It’s just been really hard for us lately. And I want to know if there’s a medical reason for it.” 

With a deep breath and a small nod, Dr. Whale seemed to come to a decision. He stepped a little closer to Mrs. Gold. Not as close as they had been, but a professional distance. Neutral--not attracted, not repulsed.  

“Mrs. Gold, I need you to understand something,” he began. “The breach of doctor-patient confidentiality is a death sentence for my profession. I could lose my licence to practice and I’d never be able to work again. And I need to work.” His chuckle was tinged with bitterness. “I’ve been a doctor for as long as I can remember and I still haven’t paid off my student loans.”

“How terribly sad for you,” Mrs. Gold said through gritted teeth. She tried not to think about how lucky he was to have student loans. To have even gotten a chance at higher education. Some people’s life savings, including their kid’s college funds, got swallowed up in medical bills. “Are you going to help me or not?”

“That’s what I’m saying, I can’t,” he said. “I can’t tell you about anything that was mentioned in any appointment with your husband. Not without his permission.”

Mrs. Gold felt the pumpkin spice latte curdle in her stomach. “You mothe--”

“But!” Dr. Whale cut her off. “I can tell you if certain subjects were not mentioned. Do you get what I mean?”

“Think about who I’m married to before you ask me again if I understand loopholes.” Instead of any relief or gratitude, all Mrs. Gold could feel was irritation boiling into anger. 

“Right.” He smiled, trying to diffuse the situation. Pathetic. “That being understood, I’m very happy to tell you that I have never spoken to Mr. Gold about heart disease. We’ve never had a reason to discuss hormone imbalances, urological problems, erectile dysfunction--”

“I never said that!”

“Neither did I,” he said with the calm of an ER surgeon. “This whole conversation is about conversations that didn’t happen.” He put one hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eye. “And I’ve never spoken to Mr. Gold about cancer.”

She tried to keep her face frozen. But that was hard to do when her legs were shaking. Mrs. Gold closed her eyes and let herself fall back against the bricks. 

She breathed, for what felt like the first time in days. 

He was safe. He wasn’t sick. She wasn’t going to lose him. Not like that, at least. 

“Thanks,” she said softly. “I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that.”

Dr. Whale grinned. “Best part of being a doctor is making people feel better. That and getting to play God.”

He laughed at his own joke, but Mrs. Gold didn’t react. She was still waiting for her heart rate to return to normal. 

“Listen,” Whale said. “You mentioned that Mr. Gold wasn’t talking to you about things and you were worried. Now, I know we give Archie hell about not being a real doctor, but talking to him does help people.”

Mrs. Gold glared up at Dr. Whale. “I’m not crazy,” she said with determination.

“No, I don’t think you are,” he answered. “But you don’t have to be mentally ill to have problems in your marriage.”

She pushed off from the wall and rounded on him, brandishing her sunglasses under his chin like a switchblade. “Who said anything about problems with my marriage?”

Whale backed out of the alley. “N-no one, Mrs. Gold. But--But it is my job to offer you the best advice I can based on the information I’m presented with.”

“Well you did your job then. Good for you. Do you want a fucking lollipop?”

Before Whale could say anything more, Mayor Mills walked into the mouth of the alley. “What is going on here?” she demanded of them both. “Dr. Whale, did you forget that you have an appointment with my son today?”

Thrown from one infuriated woman to another, Whale had to think for a moment before he recovered himself. “Ye-yes of course, Madam Mayor. Henry’s appointment is at two.”

“And it’s almost one-thirty now.” The mayor had a fascinating way of speaking that turned facts into accusations. “I imagine you want to head back to the hospital so you can review his file before you examine him.”

“Uh, yes. Yes of course,” Whale shook his head. “I definitely don’t want to be here.” He nodded to Mrs. Gold before scurrying around the mayor and all but sprinting down the street. 

“And you.” 

Mayor Mills was the sort of person who was always in charge because it was just so obvious that she should be. She could pin someone to the wall just by using the right tone of voice or raising an eyebrow or putting her hands on her hips. Mrs. Gold knew she wasn’t exempt from that power.

But, when the mayor spoke again, her voice was gentler, almost sweet. It was like she cared. Mrs. Gold suddenly got the notion that the mayor had just as many carrots as she had sticks and that she knew very well how to use both.

“Are you alright, Mrs. Gold? You seem upset.” The furrow of her brow was practically sympathetic. “I hope there isn’t any trouble at home.”

She wanted to say something. Maybe Whale was right, maybe she needed to talk to someone about what was going on with Mr. Gold. And if you couldn’t trust the mayor, who could you trust? But in the back of her head, some voice insisted: No. Not Regina! 

So she didn’t break. She didn’t say anything. Mrs. Gold put on her sunglasses, and for a hot second she felt the way Lexi Paisan had described her earlier. She felt badass.

“Nope,” she lied to Mayor Mills. “Everything’s fine.”