#the solution my mom suggested for this? *travel to someplace with snow*

[a-treatise-on-velociraptors]

I want to move to as cold a place as possible. I will live in the arctic circle if it means I get consistent winter snow

[nothingeverlost]

Fic: Henry Gold (5/?)

Summary: Regina asked for Gold’s help in procuring a child, but when he held the wee boy in his arms he couldn’t give the child up.  Ten years later it’s Henry Gold who arrives in Boston, looking for Emma.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3/ Chapter 4

A/N: Very Henry-lite, but . Emma meets Mary Margaret, a pregnant girl, and applies first aid.  More show dialog than past chapters.

II

"You had us all worried, Henry."  At Henry's request Emma walked him to school the next morning.  They were greeted in the playground by a woman with short hair who looked strangely familiar, though Emma knew that they'd never met.  "I'm glad you're safe."

"Thanks Miss Blanchard.  I have to go talk to Paige.  Bye Emma, thanks for walking me."  Henry was off before Emma had a chance to respond.  Ever since the call had come from Franklin's that it would be at least a week before her car could be repaired, thanks to a part that needed to be ordered, Henry had been much more relaxed. 

"So you're Henry's teacher."  Who happened to be the woman that Henry thought was her mother.  The mother who was, from the looks of her, the same age as Emma herself.  "I'm Emma.  I'm, uh…"

"His biological mother.  You're also the one that got him and Archie out of the mine."  Miss Blanchard shrugged.  "It's a small town, and there's not a lot to talk about.  News travels fast.  Also he apparently used my credit card to find you, or at least I assume that’s why a site called www.whoseyourmama showed up on my bill."

“I don’t have much experience with small towns.”  She wasn’t used to people knowing much about her, either. She was more used to stolen credit cards, but hadn’t realized that Henry had inherited that talent.  Was stealing hereditary?  If so he came by it honestly.

“Sometimes if can be really wonderful, having so many people know you.  Sometimes it can feel lonely, when it feels like nothing ever changes.”  She shrugged.  “I’m afraid I have to take some of the blame for yesterday, and for you being here.”

“Because of the credit card?”  Emma wondered if Henry would have still run for the mines if she had never been in the town.  If he had would he have found a way out?

“Because of the book.”  Mary Margaret looked to the corner of the playground where Henry was sitting and talking to a little blond girl.  It was the first time Emma had seen him with a kid his own age.

“You’re the one that gave it to him?”  That was weird.  Or maybe it made sense. She gave him the book so maybe seeing her as one of the characters was logical, for a ten year old.  And if his teacher was a character in the book then he’d just started naming other people too. “Why?”

“Henry is a very special boy, so smart and creative.  But he’s also very lonely.  Perhaps because of who his father is, or because he’s so clever he’s never been very good at making friends.  I thought the book could help.”

“How does a book make him less lonely?”  For a moment she was back on the bed in one of her group homes, walkman playing music through her headphones and a book in front of her.  She knew what lonely felt like, but her books and music had been a shield, not a solution.

“What do you think stories are for? These stories are classics. There’s a reason we all know them. They’re a way for us to deal with our world. A world that doesn’t always make sense to adults, let alone ten year old boys.”  Mary Margaret sighed.  “What’s the first fairytale you remember someone reading to you?”

“I didn’t get a lot of storytime.”  There had been a family once, that had almost kept her, but then they’d had a child of their own.  She’d tried to forget most of that home; it made the rest of them harder.  “I remember sneaking into a theatre to see Hunchback of Notre Dame once.” 

Mary Margaret bit her lip, looking a little like she wanted to cry.  People raised in happy homes with parents usually assumed that everyone else had the same.  “I gave the book to him because I wanted Henry to have the most important thing anyone can have. Hope. Believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing.”

Emma was grateful when the bell rang and kids started running for the building.  She didn’t want to know what Mary Margaret’s next question might be.  

“It was nice meeting you, Emma.”  Mary Margaret offered her hand, but before Emma could shake a bird landed on her finger.

“Yeah.”  Maybe Henry’s stories were getting to her too, because for just a second she could understand how Henry could look at his teacher and see Snow White.  “I’ll see you around.”

II

“Are you okay?”  All she’d wanted was a cup of coffee, but she’d barely managed a sip before spilling it on her shirt.  The diner’s owner had directed her to the laundry room of the bed and breakfast next door to clean up.  Now she was faced with a very pregnant and very unhappy pregnant teen that reminded her way too much of herself.  Well, except for the lack of a prison jumper.  

“Last night, I felt contractions and the doctor said that the baby could come any day now.”  She rubbed her belly, one hand resting on it even when she poured bleach into the washing machine.  Apparently the sheets weren’t supposed to be pink.  Emma remembered waking to find her hand on her belly, feeling the movement inside and forcing herself to move her hand, wrapping it around the metal frame of her cell bed.

“Ah.”  What could she say?  Labor was scary and painful, but being that pregnant wasn’t comfortable.

“It’s just that, um, when the… When the baby comes, no one thinks that I can do this. No one thinks I can do anything.”  She looked down at her belly.  “Maybe they’re right.”

“Forget what they think, what do you think?”  She didn’t let herself think about what it what it would have been like to keep her kid.  It hadn’t been possible and it wouldn’t have been Henry’s best life.  She’d made her only possible choice, but that was her.  “What do you want for you and what do you want for this kid?”

“I’m nineteen.”

“A year older than I was.”  And from the looks of her not living on the street at least.

“When you had a kid?”  The girl frowned, as if it had never occurred to her that someone else might have been in the same boat. 

“Yeah. Everyone loves to tell you what you can and can’t do, especially with a kid. For me the right choice was adoption but I was the only person that could make that choice.  You’re the only one that can decide for you.”  Hopefully the mayor wasn’t still looking for a kid.  The idea that she could have been Henry’s mom was still unsettling.

“You don’t understand.  Sean’s father…”

“Doesn’t get to make decisions for you.”  She didn’t wonder where this ‘Sean’ was.  Clearly he wasn’t interested, nor was his father grandparent material.  “You just got to punch back and say, ‘no, this is who I am.’ You want people to look at you differently? Make them. If you want to change things, you’re going to have to go out there and change them yourself, because there are no fairy godmothers in this world.

II

“Gold?”  Emma was restlessly wandering the kitchen, trying to decide if she wanted hot chocolate or a drink from Gold’s decanter when she heard him come down the stairs.

“The alarm from my shop is going off.”  He wore an overcoat and a scarf.  She’d taken the trash out earlier and it had been see-your-breath kind of cold.  That was more than an hour ago.

“Did you want me to come with you?”  Apparently small towns didn’t have security patrols that answered alarms.  So far as she could tell they had one sheriff, and that was about it.

“No, it���s probably just a stray cat trying to get someplace warm.  I won’t be gone fifteen minutes.  Henry’s asleep, I turned off his lamp before I came down.”  He glanced up the stairs.

“Don’t forget gloves,” she suggested before going back into the kitchen to make hot chocolate with cinnamon.  Just thinking about being outside made her cold.  She drank her chocolate while wandering the rooms, looking at the photos on the walls and the odd trinkets.  There was one display case that held nothing but a teacup with a chipped rim; she wondered if the chip made it more or less valuable.  There were pictures of Henry all over the place, one tops of tables and hanging on the walls.  She lost count of how many bookcases there were; Henry’s room had a couple as well.  Gold probably did too, though she hadn’t seen his bedroom.

Emma was washing out her mug when she glanced at the clock and realized it had been more than half an hour since Gold had left, twice the time he’d expected to be gone.  If it was a false attempt to enter the shop he’d be back already; they were only five minutes away.  She slipped her phone out of her pocket and dialed his number.  It rang five times before going to voicemail.

“Crap.”  The way she figured it she only had one choice.  She called the sheriff to ask for a ride.

“Gold?”  She didn’t have a gun with her but she was fast and she was sneaky.  She had the door to the shop open before Graham caught up to her.

“Potential crime scenes are in my job description, not yours. You should let me go first,” Graham suggested.

“Habit,” she said with a shrug, scanning the room.  “This is not that different from what I do.”

“Professional thief?”  There was a hint of humor in his voice that was probably inappropriate but almost made her grin despite her worry.  If anything happened to Gold Henry would be inconsolable.

“Sort of the opposite.  I’m a bail bonds person.”  At least that was part of her job.  She did some bounty hunting as well but that was a little less official and she was talking to the local law.

“Not something we’ve ever had much use of around here.”  There was no one in the main room of the shop so together they moved through the curtain to the back.  Gold was on the floor and he didn’t look like he was moving.

“Shit, shit, shit.”  She turned on the switch, flooding the room with light.  Gold’s chest rose and fell so that was something, at least, but he didn’t flinch at the light.

“I’m going to check out back.”  Graham headed for the door.  Emma knelt next to Gold and looked for injuries.  When she rolled him to his back his hair fell to one side and revealed a bloody gash near his temple.  She didn’t know if the fancy squares in his pocket were supposed to serve any purpose but they were the first thing she grabbed to staunch the blood.

“I hope 911 works in this place.”  She’d never lived in a town small enough to wonder before.

“Don’t bother on my account.”  Gold struggled to sit up but Emma’s light hold on his chest was enough to stop him.  She didn’t realize at first glance how bloodshot his eyes were.

“Slow down there, champ.  Bleeding out on your own office floor is going to make for a pretty embarrassing story.”  Emma frowned.  She should probably ask him some questions or something, but the whole ‘do you know who the president is’ thing never made much sense to her.

“Bleeding?”  His hand went up to his head, fingertips coming away sticky and red.  “I must have hit the corner of the desk when I fell.”

“You fell?”  Graham closed the door when he came back in, and the lack of a draft made the place feel warmer.

“Must have been an uneven patch on the floor.  I should have turned the light on.”  This time he did sit up, wincing a little as he did so.  

“There wasn’t anyone else in here?”  Graham looked skeptical, which was fair because Emma knew that Gold was lying through his teeth.  It was the first lie she’d caught him in.

“No one but me and my shadow.”  He grasped for his cane but didn’t try to stand.  “Thank you for your service, sheriff, but it was a false alarm.  I’m sure Ms. Swan won’t mind driving my car home and you probably should get back to a warm bed somewhere.”

“I could follow you home just to be sure,” Graham offered.  He seemed to be reluctant to leave.

“We’ll call if we need you.”  Gold sat perfectly still until Graham was gone and the sound of the front door closing meant he’d left the building.

“Are you going to tell me now why you were lying?”  Emma stood and held out her hand.  After a moment Gold held on firmly and let her help him to stand.  She didn’t comment on the fact he’d needed help, or that he leaned on the cane more heavily than usual.

“I’d rather wait until we’re home, if you don’t mind.  I don’t like leaving Henry alone in the house.  If you wouldn’t mind locking the back door, please.”  He limped towards the front without waiting for her reply.  She made note of the fact that the lock was pretty crappy and there was a pane of broken glass that she would bet anything wasn’t broken an hour ago.  Calling it locked was a joke, really. The front door at least had a bolt.

“So are you going to tell me now?” she asked when they were back at the house and she’d run upstairs to check on Henry.  He was still sleeping.  Gold was patting his face dry with a towel, his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up.  “Do you need a bandaid?”

“It’s fine,” he said dismissively with a wave of his hand.  “I’m having a drink, would you like one?”

“I’d like the truth.”  She took the drink, though, when he led her out of the kitchen and into the library.

“There was someone in my shop tonight.  A young woman that clearly needed help; she was quite wound up, not acting like herself at all.”

“And she hit you?”  Who in the world broke into a pawn shop and stole things?

“No, no.  She used pepper spray on me, threw me off my balance.  I really did hit the desk.”  He touched his wound lightly with a couple of fingers and winced.  At least it wasn’t bleeding.  “I’ve never seen her like that before.”

“You know her?”

“She’s a client, of sorts.”  He paused for a moment to sit on the sofa, raising his leg to rest on the ottoman.  “You see, Emma, there’s no lawyer here in Storybrooke.  I’m rather good with contracts, and sometimes people come to me for help with deals.  Ashley Boyd sought me out a few months ago.  She’s a young girl, only a year out of high school, and there’s a babe on the way.  Neither her family, such as it is, or the father are helping her.  She wanted to discuss options.”

“You were brokering an adoption?”  She had a sinking suspicion that she knew exactly who he was talking about.  It couldn’t be a coincidence that she’d talked to a young pregnant girl hours ago about ‘punching back’ and a young pregnant girl had broken into the shop and assaulted Gold.  Great.

“I was.  There’s a couple here in town, actually, that has been trying for years to have a child.  They have a nursery ready and names picked out.  I have a keen interest in helping families find each other.”  He glanced towards the hall and the staircase going up to his son’s room.  “She never seemed happy but she was relieved that someone would love and raise her child.  Perhaps reality is setting in now that she’s so close to having the baby.  She was raving about changing her destiny, and something confusing about godmothers.”

“Where is she now?”  Shit, it was the same girl.  And a family that might not get a baby they’d been waiting for, but if Ashley wanted her baby she deserved that chance.  Either way someone was going to lose.

“I don’t know.  She lives at the bed and breakfast and doesn’t have a car.  Her parents are both dead but there’s a stepmother.  I didn’t want to send the sheriff after her, she doesn’t need a record for one confused moment, but we should find her.”

“In the morning.”  She frowned, and wondered again about his wound.  “Are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor?  How do you know it’s safe to go to bed?”

“I’m far too stubborn and thick-headed for a little bump to cause any problems.”  He downed most of his drink in a single gulp.  Maybe the drink helped, because he was more steady on his feet when he stood and left the room.  Emma was about to follow when her phone rang.  It was a Maine area code.

“Hello?”  She hadn’t given her number to anyone except Gold and the guy at the repair shop.  It was a weird time to be calling about her car.

“I just wanted to be sure you made it home safely.  No ill effects?”  The sheriff’s voice was easily identifiable.

“Are you really conscientious or really bored?”  She didn’t bother asking how he had her number.  She was curious why he’d gotten it.

“Actually I have an ulterior motive.  I have discretionary funds in my budget for a deputy, and since your job isn’t that different I thought you might be interested.”

“I’m only in town for a week.”  Less than that now, but she wasn’t counting the days.

“Are you sure?  I can offer you dental, as well as donuts.  The hours are flexible and the boss is easy to work for.”  He laughed, and Emma found herself smiling.  She couldn’t say yes, though.  She had a job and a life in Boston.  Well a job at least.

“Donuts, really?”  She couldn’t think of anything else to say.  

“Sometimes the cliches are true.  I know a place that makes really good donuts.  Maybe I can show you, even if you’re only staying a week.  And maybe you’ll change your mind about staying.”  He reminded her of Henry for a moment.  “Anyway the offer’s genuine if you change your mind.  Both the job and the donuts.”

“Thanks.”  She couldn’t accept the job offer, of course, and it probably was a bad idea to go out with Graham even if it was just donuts.  Donuts could easily mean coffee too, and then they were heading into dangerous pseudo date territory.  This time next week she’d be in Boston.  Leaving behind Henry would be hard enough without making friends with more people.

Emma drained her glass and carried it into the kitchen before heading up to bed.  She deliberately didn’t check in on Henry before closing her bedroom door.  She didn’t need it to become a habit.

[krystlelord811-blog]

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