Scar Tissue: Chapter 4
Rumplestiltskin/Mr. Gold x Fem!Reader
Synopsis: Twenty-eight years after the dark curse is cast Rumplestiltskin wakes up to find himself in an idyllic small town in Maine, where he has all of the wealth and power Regina had promised him. Of course, he expected Regina to throw in some loophole, something small enough to make him quietly miserable without breaking their deal, but what he didn’t expect was to wake up to a woman bearing his last name and a town that only tolerates him because they care for her. Now he must tip-toe the line between his identities, silently guiding Emma to fulfill her destiny as the savior while never breaking their illusion that he is a happily married human man.
Or: Regina decides to punish Rumple by forcing him to be emotionally available (eg. married) to a woman he’s never met before. He wakes up long before she does. Chaos ensues.
Warnings: mentions of a coma patient/hospital settings, not proofread, tbh I think that’s it
Word Count: 4.3k
A/N: okay guys buckle up this is a long one! This chapter contains both flashbacks to reader in the enchanted forest and also current happenings in Storybrooke. I think that from this point forward that will be how all of the chapters are structured, because I have a pretty cool idea I’d like to explore in an enchanted forest plot line. Also, despite what the beginning of this chapter may lead you to believe Graham and reader are platonic with a capital P and always have been! Also also! Due to this fic being written in the same episodic format as the show, there will be certain chapters that focus more on readers dynamic with the rest of the characters than with Gold, and this is one of them! Next chapter coming (hopefully) soon, let me know what you guys think!
The crisp, cool air of early spring wrapped around you, sunlight dappling across the dirt path that you followed. Your boots crunched against the ground, old things in need of repair, and your eyes squinted against the light, always slightly too bright this time of year. You sighed through your nose, silently contemplating the forest around you before veering off of the path, the foliage tugging against your skirts and at the cloak wrapped loosely around your shoulders, as if in an effort to pull you back.
“Graham?”
Your voice rang out between the trees, though no answer called back to you. Your jaw clicked in irritation as you stumbled farther into the forest, your eyes scanning pointlessly for the huntsman in question. You called his name again, and, met once again with no answer, found a log and sat, resting your chin in one hand as you tried in vain to dust your skirts off with the other.
The forest was always beautiful, but this time of year saw an abundance of growth and life that you’d always been fond of. You didn’t think it would be so terrible a fate, to sit and watch the dappled sunlight move between the branches while waiting for your huntsman who’d wandered too far into the woods to return. You closed your eyes, listening to the sound of birdsong and the rustling of leaves, the soft breeze weaving its way through your hair. You could almost get lost in it, you thought, the sounds of the nature around you lulling you into a peaceful sleep.
“There was no need to shout”
You jumped, eyes flying open at the sudden sound behind you. You whipped around, stumbling a bit as you came face to face with your huntsman, his face adorned with a proud grin at having startled you. Beside him, his dear wolf-dog looked up at you, its tail happily wagging. You pressed a hand to your heart, struggling to catch your breath as your body slowly came to terms with the fact that it wasn’t in danger.
“If you had responded the first time, I wouldn’t have needed to shout at all.”
You frowned at him, but there was no real bite in your words. If anything, a smile began to tug on your lips as you crossed your arms over your chest, hip popping to one side. He chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped over the log which separated you, pulling you into his embrace. Your nose wrinkled at the stench of him, the furs he wore like a furnace as your arms were caught between your bodies. He rocked you both side to side, placing a quick kiss to the crown of your head, before you loosened yourself enough from his grip to push him away.
“You stink. I told you that you shouldn’t stay out here for days at a time.”
He barked a laugh at your words, his wolf-dog weaving its way between you, looking up at you expectantly for pets. You obliged it with scratches behind the ear.
“Well, never one to sugarcoat anything, are you?” Graham laughed, sitting on the log and taking a swig from his flask, “Unfortunately, I sold the stag that I caught.”
Your eyebrows furrowed at that, confusion washing over you. Graham was a compassionate man, he never hunted without reason, and he cried over every fallen animal that sacrificed itself for him. He had never sold an animal before, the notion was bizarre to you.
He must have read the confusion on your face, because his smile only widened as he reached into his satchel, pulling out what appeared to be a wad of fabric.
“I caught you eyeing this in the market and I assumed you would never get it for yourself, so consider this a gift.”
You quietly gasped, turning the bundle over in your hands as you inspected the fabric. It was rich, velvet dyed your favorite color, the small reflective flecks in it catching the light as you moved. You looked up at him, eyes wide with a mix of appreciation and wonder.
“We could never- I could never afford this. How did you manage this? This is so extravagant, I couldn’t even- what could I possibly even do with this?”
He laughed, the sound warm against the chill in the air, eyes alight with something you couldn’t quite describe.
“Well, it’s yours, so whatever your heart desires.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You stood in your kitchen, barefoot against the tile flooring, the chill sending a shiver up your spine. One of the many problems, you thought, with owning a historic home was that the walls were simply not built for the chill that permeated every sector of your life from October to April. It may be nice somewhere warmer, you thought, but in Maine it sent your teeth chattering if you were clad in anything less than three layers of clothing. As it stood, you were clad only in your pajamas, idly stirring a pot of soup which you hoped would warm both you and the room. You could faintly hear the fire crackling from its place in the living room, which was undoubtedly much warmer than the kitchen, and you turned to speak to your husband about that very thing when the words died on your tongue. He was sat at the counter, shifting through papers, you assumed legal documents, but his gaze pointedly avoided yours. You sighed, glancing between him and the old analog clock he insisted on keeping, your voice breaking the silence.
“It’s late, are you sure you don’t want some of this soup? I’d hate for you to go to bed hungry just because you’re caught up in your work.”
“I’m fine, dearie.”
His words were sharp and clipped, something that you weren’t used to hearing from him. You also weren’t sure where he’d picked up this new nickname for you, though he had been calling you it incessantly over the past few days. You almost asked about it before something in you decided that it wasn’t worth it, turning around to once again pay attention to your soup.
After what felt like an eternity of sitting in silence with the man you could usually never stay silent around, your phone, sitting on the counter beside the stove, began to buzz. You turned, grateful for the distraction, and your face lit up when you saw Mary Margaret’s name flash across the screen. She had told you all about her upcoming date with Dr. Whale, and you hoped only good things had come from it.
You grabbed your phone, pressing the green answer key before pressing the phone between your shoulder and ear as you began to pour yourself a bowl of your soup.
“Mary Margaret! Hi! How was your date? Tell me all about it.”
“Oh it was awful,” Her voice, slightly staticky from the other line, answered you, “He didn’t ask me a single question about myself, and then when I did talk he looked so disinterested! Turns out he had been staring at Ruby the entire dinner!”
You frowned, clearly hearing the hurt in your friend's words. You sighed, taking a bite of your soup before turning so that your back rested against the countertop, your body angled toward your husband.
“Well, sweetheart, he is a womanizer. He’s not exactly known for committed relationships, more so for flowers in the morning.”
You shot Gold your best innocent ‘what?’ glance as he looked up at you incredulously, you assumed equal parts annoyed and intrigued by your conversation. Your husband always was nosey, and it’s not like he’d ever shied away from gossiping with you before.
“I know, I know,” Mary Margaret’s voice cut off your train of thought, her tone veering back to somewhere between disappointment and worry, “So I asked Ruby for the check. I mean, I wasn’t going to sit there while he ogled another woman right in front of me! And then, on my walk home, guess who I found living out of their car? Emma Swan!”
“What?”
You immediately shot upright from your leaning position against the counter, your spine bolt straight as you set down your bowl to get a proper grip on your phone.
“Yes! Apparently Regina essentially told Granny to kick her out of the inn. I offered her the spare bed at my apartment, but she didn’t take it.”
You sighed through your nose, eyes darting over to your husband as you spoke.
“Well, let her know the next time you see her that she is always more than welcome at my home. We have more bedrooms than we know what to do with, after all.”
Gold’s brows furrowed in clear annoyed shock at your words, and you moved the phone away from your face, your own expression mirroring his.
“Robert,” You hissed the words from between your teeth, feeling for all the world like a scolding schoolteacher, “Regina is terrorizing the poor girl, the least we could do is offer her a warm place to stay.”
You didn’t give him a chance to respond, turning your attention back to the woman on the other line.
She, probably having heard your tone as you rounded on your husband, mumbled something about an early morning before hanging up, the line going dead. You sat your phone down, shooting Gold an unimpressed stare.
“You shouldn’t be inviting strangers into my home.”
“Our home,” You corrected him, crossing your arms over your chest, “And she’s not a stranger. She’s my friend…I think.”
“She’s also an adult who, need I remind you, seems quite capable of handling herself.”
You scoffed, pushing yourself off of the counter, making it all of six steps to the threshold of the kitchen before you rounded on him, days worth of confusion bubbling up underneath your skin.
“I don’t understand what’s happening with you recently, but whatever’s bothering you, don’t take it out on me. You’ve been acting so odd lately, and you won’t tell me why.”
He sighed, running a hand over his face before turning to you, his face pinched up in some emotion you couldn’t quite pinpoint.
“I apologize if I have seemed…distracted. There are many things occurring in this town, and I cannot divide my attention evenly between them all.”
You frowned, moving to stand behind him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“That’s why I’m here. Just…talk to me, that’s all I’m asking.”
He tensed under your touch, nodding at your words before not-so-subtly brushing you off. You turned away from him, calling over your shoulder that you were going to bed before making your way across your home, not sparing him another glance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It had been nearly a year since that fateful day which had separated you and Graham. Truthfully, you didn’t like to think about it, not when it left a heavy weight in your chest and a melancholy hanging over your head. No, instead you liked to think of the future, of helping this young princess you’d been tasked with keeping safe get somewhere far away, presumably across the sea where no queen could ever find her.
You had both decided ages ago to make camp somewhere deep in the forest, where your chances of being caught by the Queen’s men were at their lowest. Unfortunately, that also meant that any trek for supplies could be up to a day’s walk, and you both had been running dangerously low. Though the few allies you had acquired thus far had been helpful where they could be, you still found yourself almost always resorting to bartering for scraps. Snow, however, always had some form of treasure on her person, which was why you thought it odd that she sent you out instead of herself.
You didn’t have to wonder for too long, however, for when you returned to your camp (a cave lined with furs and lanterns), you find both Snow and several of your shared belongings gone.
Panic briefly seized you, some deep, instinctual fear that the girl had been found and taken to the Queen from right under your nose. However, the more you allowed yourself to look the more you found that that theory held no substance. There were no signs of a struggle, only a cut net and faint footprints in the dirt a few yards away.
You sighed, setting down your haul of supplies before grabbing your cloak and a lantern, accepting that this would be a long day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Only two days had passed, and yet you already found yourself back with Emma Swan, having met her once again as you arrived at Granny’s for breakfast. You’d nearly collided with her in the hallway leading to the bathroom, both of you stumbling to veer out of each other’s way. You had turned to look back at her, eyebrows raised to reach your hairline.
“Is that Regina’s shirt?”
“Henry gave it to me.”
“So Regina’s shirt.”
She chuckled, nodding out to the dining area with a grin on her face.
“I’ll buy you breakfast if you promise not to tell.”
“Deal.”
Your own grin matched hers as you followed her out to her booth, unsurprised to see Henry already sitting with his hot cocoa.
“Thanks for the shirt, kid.” She slid into the seat across from him, and you quickly followed suit, “Hey, is this your mother’s?”
You ignored the pointed look that she shot you as she asked the question, and you struggled to hide your chuckle with a cough.
“She’ll never notice.”
Suddenly, his gaze snapped over to yours, as if he just then noticed your presence.
“Hi Mrs. Gold, what are you doing here?”
“Emma offered to buy me breakfast, and I couldn’t possibly decline.”
“Did she tell you about our plan?”
Henry’s eyes lit up as he asked the question, and you suddenly felt very lost.
“What plan?”
Emma sighed, her smile faltering just slightly.
“There’s a John Doe in the hospital, he’s a coma patient. Henry thinks that Mary Margaret is Snow White, and that John Doe is Prince Charming. So, I asked her to read their story to him, to see if it wakes him up.”
You, of course, knew about Henry’s fairytale theory, as did everyone else in Storybrooke, but to hear that Emma had been playing along took you off guard. You had expected her to write it off as an active imagination, not as something possible. Though, at the pleading look she sent you, eyes wide and lips pressed together in a thin line, you assumed that this was part of a larger scheme you weren’t part of. You turned to Henry, your voice light with faux excitement.
“Well, isn’t that exciting? I hope that your plan goes well.”
As soon as the words left your mouth, the bell above the door rang, signifying someone’s entrance. The three of you turned in unison, Henry’s voice bright with unrestrained glee at the sight of his teacher.
“It’s Miss Blanchard!”
“Henry, don’t get your hopes up,” Emma leaned in towards him, voice suddenly deadly serious, “This is just the beginning, okay? It’s alright if nothing happened.”
Mary Margaret suddenly slid into the seat beside Henry, eyes bright, a wide smile across her face.
“He woke up.”
“What?”
You and Emma said the word in unison, Henry’s face lighting up with a proud ‘I told you so!’.
Emma leaned across the table towards Mary Margaret, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“What do you mean?”
“He grabbed my hand!” Mary Margaret’s voice trailed off, clearly in disbelief at the situation, “I was reading to him, and then he grabbed my hand. Dr. Whale said that his vitals were stable and that maybe I dreamed it, but I know that it happened.”
You were pretty sure your jaw was on the floor. You knew vaguely of John Doe, you had heard your husband make an off handed comment about him once or twice, but for as long as you could remember he had never shown signs of waking. It was quietly understood within the community that he probably never would, so the fact that Henry’s theory had worked…you took in a few deep breaths, attempting to not allow yourself to spiral.
“He’s remembering!” Henry’s voice cut through your thoughts, yours and Emma’s dumbstruck faces finding his, “He’s waking up, you have to read to him again!”
Mary Margaret nodded once, a quiet ‘okay’ leaving her lips before both she and Henry were out of the booth, rushing towards the door. You and Emma stumbled after them, though you didn’t wait to hear Emma and Mary Margaret’s conversation, instead racing after Henry towards the hospital.
By the time the four of you arrived at the ward where John Doe was kept, it was crowded with nurses and doctors alike, though your hopeful curiosity died as your eyes landed on Graham, standing with a grim expression on his face. He quickly blocked Henry from racing into the room where Joe Doe had been stationed, Emma and Mary Margaret coming to a sharp halt behind you.
“What’s going on, did he wake up?”
Graham sighed at Mary Margaret’s hopeful words, slowly shaking his head.
“He’s missing.”
It felt as though all of the energy had been sucked out of the room, everyone around you coming to a standstill. The questions came rapidly.
“Was he taken?”
“What happened?”
“Can you find him?”
Graham shook his head, obviously overwhelmed by everything happening around him. Before he could respond Regina emerged from the small hospital room, heels clicking against the tile.
“Miss Blanchard, Miss Swan, Mrs. Gold, what are you all doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question, why is the mayor here?” Emma retorted, arms crossed against her chest.
“I’m his emergency contact, considering I’m the one who found him all those years ago, unconscious on the side of the road.”
“It’s true, Mayor Mills saved his life,” Dr. Whale followed in behind her, disheveled after what you could only assume had been hours of panicked searching and report filing, “We called her as soon as we realized what had happened.”
“Why is no one looking?”
You shot a confused glance to Graham, whose answer was cut off by Regina.
“I think the better question would be why are you here, instead of going off somewhere to play house?”
“With all due respect, Regina,” you gave her your best faux smile, teeth clenching in annoyance, “I’m here to support my friend, who was just told that she was crazy for thinking that John Doe was waking up.”
Regina scoffed, grabbing Henry by the arm before storming off, but not before pausing to hiss a seething ‘stay out of this’ to Emma. You sighed, turning to Graham.
“What can I do to help?”
“Honestly?” Graham ran a hand over his face, suddenly looking like a man who hadn’t slept for 48 hours, “Go home.”
“What?”
Your brows furrowed in confusion, taken off guard by his complete dismissal.
“Miss Swan has a history of tracking people, Miss Blanchard is a witness, but you will only slow us down if you tag along.” You frowned, which only seemed to solidify his decision, “Go home, get some rest, I’ll call you if any new development occurs, alright?”
Mary Margaret sent you a reassuring glance while Emma was already halfway out of the door, her bright red jacket slung over the back of one of the visitor chairs.
You sighed through your nose before turning on your heel, stalking out of the hospital and towards your home. Your feet ached horribly by the time you managed to get through your front door, though your mood lifted almost instantly as you heard the sound of your husband in the kitchen. You immediately raced through your home, shoes and jacket discarded somewhere along the way, skidding to a halt at the threshold of the room.
“Do you remember John Doe, the coma patient? He’s awake! Mary Margaret woke him up, maybe? We actually don’t know what happened, but now he’s missing! He just disappeared in the middle of the night!”
The words tumbled out of you so quickly you weren’t even sure they made sense at all, only stopping to rake in a gasping breath. Gold turned from where he had been cooking something or other on the stove, face pinched in confusion.
“He what?”
“I know! And when I volunteered to help with the investigation, Graham told me to go home! Which is completely unfair, considering both Emma and Mary Margaret got to aid in the search.”
You frowned, irritation returning at the situation as you plopped down in a seat at the counter, crossing your arms over your chest. You now had your husband’s full attention, his body turned towards your own as you continued to rant.
“And, I would suggest saying something to the lovely Mayor Mills the next time you two meet, considering she insinuated that I’m a glorified housewife ‘playing house’.”
You put air quotes over the words, voice dripping with a mix of anger and hurt.
“Well, you don’t have a job.”
“Not the point,” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, “Would it kill you to be on my side, like ever?”
“I’m not any happier about the mayor’s words than you are dearie,” He turned his attention back away from you to whatever was on the stove, “But you should know that that’s all she has against you, words. After all, everyone in this town fears me more than Regina, including Regina herself.”
“Not something to be proud of.”
“I didn’t say it was, only that it’s true.”
“Well, if that’s all you have to say, I’m going to bed,” You sighed, standing from your seat at the countertop, “I’m exhausted after everything that’s happened today.”
“Wait-“
His voice stopped you in your tracks, your gaze snapping over to meet his own.
“John Doe, you said that Mary Margaret Blanchard woke him? As in the school teacher?”
You nodded, surprised he even remembered her. You never had the time to go out with her, and you’d only mentioned her in passing a time or two.
“Yes, why?”
“Just curious, I suppose. It’s not every day something like this happens here.”
You nodded at his words, exhaustion creeping behind your eyelids as you stifled a yawn.
“So weird, how many things have been changing recently.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was late at night when you finally found Snow White, the both of you lit by lantern-light on some small dirt path deep in the forest. Despite the obvious dirt and grime from a long journey, she looked no worse for wear than she had the last time you’d seen her. Your instant relief was quickly overshadowed by anger for worrying you so deeply, and you were sure that if you looked into a mirror you would see that at least half of your hair had gone white.
To her credit, she looked somewhat sheepish to have found you under the circumstances in which she did, her voice dropping to a murmur as she extinguished her lantern. She spent the entire return trek telling of her adventures, of how she ambushed a royal carriage, got caught by a prince who blackmailed her into helping him retrieve his stolen jewels (which she had sold to trolls, because of course she had), and of how she had used all of the magical dust she had bartered for to save that prince’s life. You were thoroughly impressed with her sheer luck when it came to circumstances such as those, though you would never tell her that. Instead you sighed, shaking your head like a disappointed mother.
“You should have been much more careful, and you should have told me of your plans.”
“You are not my mother,” she scoffed, though she absentmindedly drifted closer to you for the light from your lantern, “We are the same age.”
“Be that as it may, I was still tasked with watching out for you, because like it or not you were raised a princess and we could not leave you to figure out how to survive on your own.”
She chuckled under her breath, bumping her shoulder with yours in a silent show of appreciation. Despite your irritation, a grin tugged at your lips, glad to see your dear friend safe.
Though, you thought to yourself, If this is how she plans on spending the rest of her days, it will be a long life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You awoke the next morning to a plethora of text messages, most of which were barely coherent, from both Mary Margaret and Emma. Squinting against the morning light, you scrolled through the different threads, both carrying the same message.
‘We found John Doe. He’s okay. He has a wife, Regina found her.’
You quickly padded into the living room, sleep still clinging to your eyes as you regarded your husband. You had always been amazed that he could be a functional person so early in the day, but now you hoped that you could use it to your favor.
“Do you know a Kathryn Nolan?”
He paused, briefly, before answering you, “I can’t say that I do.”
“Apparently she’s John Doe’s wife, the man’s real name is David Nolan. Regina found her around the same time Mary Margaret, Emma, and Graham found him.”
“Did she now?” He paused, seeming to briefly consider your words, “What a strange coincidence.”
You nodded, plopping down onto the couch beside him. He regarded you coolly, as if you were just a fact of life he had accepted. So much for romance.
“It must be so difficult for that poor man, don’t you think? Having to relearn who you are from scratch, not having any of your foundational memories?”
“Yes,” A small smile tugged at your husband’s lips, as if you had just said something ironic, “imagine that.”
