Mature content...you've been warned.

Loss is a constant.

An expectation, and a perception Gold holds. He'd seen the outcome, over and over, one way or another. Inevitable, the variables had been fixed, beyond even his cunning calculations and wretched attempts at altering it

And pain is interminable.

It was the crux of his prolonged existence; ruthlessly persistent and perpetually felt. One that comes and it goes in spades; sometimes bad, other times unbearable so. He's learned to live with it, to an extent.

But love was sporadic.

Easily avoidable and immaterial if the necessary precautions were made and factored in. It needn't have been a concern. Not anymore. Its appearance and integration was solely the byproduct of a systematic and inherent default; his deep longing for it, essentially.

Making him weak and erratic—and kept doing so—causing hasty errors and irreversible miscalculations.

In summation: it was never supposed to be part of the plan.

It just always seemed to happen anyways. Becoming the spark—the instigator—for the continuous and burning cycle of tragedy that seems to have defined and plagued Gold his whole life.

To love is to lose, with loss comes the pain, and that pain yearns for love.

In-between is the darkness, the rage, and all those destructive machinations.

And on and on it went; looping around incessantly like the spinning turns of his cursed wheel. He needed it to stop, but it appeared it never would. For it seemed Gold could not refrain himself from eventually seeking it out.

He'd had very specific designs for Emma Swan.

The whole of her existence was born solely from his necessity of it; the sum total of a very long and complicated equation. Nothing personal, or warranting any consideration. So admittedly, an elicited romance had not been a factor he'd bothered equating into their future rapport and relationship.

Then he'd met her, and now he's begun to.

But during those initial stages of their little dalliance Gold had intended never to apply that word or the concept—of love—so openly in regards to her. For time and experience had taught him to be particularly cautious and fearful of it, and of that.

Or maybe he'd just hoped not to truly feel it. Only mindlessly entertain the false notion of it until the breaking point was successfully achieved. He really had no desire to once again endure the recurring sequence of loss that would inevitably follow its prospect and attempted incorporation.

He would lose Emma in due course. As he has everything, and everyone, that has ever fallen victim to him and his attentions; with his inflexible foresight and perilous passions.

It should not have even happened this time. He'd held dominion over her name and had simply wanted to make use of its power and persuasion; to test it, really. The seductive pull of what little magic he held in this world.

That was all, Gold tells himself still.

And yet, it's there. He's sure it's there—that feeling—harder and more brutal than it needs to be because he was, and would always be, deep down inside, a hopeless romantic at heart.

It's because of this particular disposition of his that Gold nearly says it to her once, and only once.

In the wake of one of their more heated encounters.

Emma comes to him that evening quite suddenly in a charged and wild state.

Though she tries stubbornly not to dwell on the reasoning behind it he has his suspicions and insights and knew the likely source of her erratic behavior. Yet Gold doesn't bother pushing an admission from her; only because the threat of her fleeing was of too great a risk. And one needed to remain mindful when choosing their battles; gauge their victories, and make due with their losses.

Besides, he'd already deciphered her intentions for coming here; Emma was seeking him out strictly for the purpose of offering her a momentary escape from her troubles. So really, no advantage would be gained by exposing the known truths behind her abrupt arrival.

But then, maybe, he's just become too aware of her absence as of late to allow her to up and leave him as swiftly as she'd come.

Ether way, Gold sees exactly what she wants from him. And he wagers that she knows he's figured it out. It's why she doesn't hesitate despite circumstances surrounding them. Circling around it was unnecessary at this point, and she was a creature of action first and foremost.

He's learned that already.

So he'll give Emma what she wants. At what cost, he's not yet decided.

She comes towards him both rashly and desperately, and he welcomes the role of victim to her destructive and drowning desires. Her kiss is smoldering and harsh. He returns it in kind.

It's become easy enough.

Possibly not the healthiest nor fairest thing for him to do—indulging her whims like this—but he does so for himself mostly; she'd grown distant and scarce since that night by the inn and he's come to miss her in his own selfish little ways

Brazen kisses mixed with tugging caresses rapidly become more frantic and heated. They can barely make it to the bedroom in their clumsy haste, and the sting in his leg is almost unbearable when they finally do.

A sign, perhaps.

Yet it neither deters nor dissuades Gold from following through. Emma is everything that matters to him right now—to have her, all he wants is to have her again—regardless of the damage and fallout that would likely arise once it was over and done with.

To be with her like this, in the flesh and so completely, is nearly excruciating in growing necessity. Its dangerous how much he's come to need this from her. More so than she does, he'd realized after their last encounter, and even more then she would ever choose to understand.

Roughly, he pressed Emma down into the mattress. She willingly yields to him and then swiftly urges Gold over her.

Nothing that happens between them then is remotely gentle; it's viciously raw, and suffocating, overwhelmingly so, and unrestrained in a way he's never expressed or known before. And yet there's a sort of comfort to be found in this; the pain ignited and felt between them. Both were trying so aching hard to feel something from the other, be it physical or emotional or something else entirely.

But that fine line had long since become distorted and blurred by the fervor of their increasingly reckless choices and passions.

He could no longer recognized what he actually wanted from her, or from this, and he suspected that she too was becoming lost in the fray of defining whatever this was growing between them. But, and in spite of this developed dependency, they still had their roles to play for a story that needed to be told. One that was too long in the making to be forgotten or left unwritten.

And yet, he wants to; some of the time. Rarely, but there are those occasions he considers the possibility. They've had moments with each other, secret and kept guarded deep inside, that make him entertain the notion of an alternative.

Just for an instant.

And then, as quickly as the thought comes, Gold must remind himself that he is very much the villain in this tale, and Emma would always be its destined hero. Despite everything, that was who they were. And what they were only ever meant to be to one another.

Love; it did not, nor could not, matter in the grand scheme of things. But still, he wonders; only in those times without her close.

It's during these periods that he thinks that maybe this was what love was in this dreary and hollow little world. Without the element of magic yet still powerfully present; as crushing and great in strength as it was back in the enchanted realm.

He can't say it's what he feels for sure, but he feels something akin to it nonetheless. But then there are those crueler thoughts that come as well, where he finds himself absolutely certain that he hates her instead.

So round and round it went and goes; emotional conflict at its finest and most brutally consistent.

Gold's easily provoked by the abrupt curl of her fingers twisting through his hair. So he digs his own into her tender thighs in childish retaliation. Emma gasps, and his breathe quickens.

He doesn't want it like this. He can't bear it for much longer.

But he won't let it stop.

Each touch they give one another is more hurried then the last, and yet there's no rush to reach their peak too quickly. Coarsely, he drags his open palms over and around the curves of her flush body while she pushes him deeper and more fully against her with every stroke he forces into her.

Emma arches gracelessly, her pull insistent and fierce in its intensity that he's so nearly consumed by it. But then he catches a fleeting glimpse of her eyes and sees their lack of glow as she anxiously draws him nearer to her.

Gold purposefully tries to ignore it, too engrossed in thoroughly taking her to distract himself with such an insightful little detail.

It was easier, to dismiss these sorts of things. The image he creates of her is all he would allow himself to look at anymore. He's clung on to it since that night, with the two of them, and its foolish little kiss.

And he wants to believe that he can, strives to focus on it often. Even Emma seems partial in allowing him these false assessments. Still, he can't help but find it rather disconcerting that she's never seemed more at ease in his embrace then she has right now.

He thinks there is something frightening and darkly revealing in this. But Gold warns himself to remain indifferent to its meaning and not to question its rooted source. It was just another disturbing truth she's slipped and laid bare that he'll need to avoid as he pursued this sense of obliviousness towards her real character.

But he looks into her eyes again anyways.

Because it's grown increasingly difficult to do that—to do nothing—as his feeling for her continue to evolve and alter and become skewed beyond the bounds of his restrained control.

Gold can barely stifle the groan that tears through his throat then as the storm of release bores down on him viciously. He soon hears Emma and the low hum of her own washing over her.

He's finally swayed by its broken sound.

Pragmatism and cold calculations fade from Gold's mind as his body slackens and settles in close. His touch lingers over her, becoming softer and more soothing in intent and purpose as he gently leans in and begins whispering words in her ear in an effort to ease away what remains of her tensions.

He tells Emma that he knows what's wrong, and asks what can be done to make it better, if it's only for a little while.

He implores her to let him do this for her.

And for once she seems receptive towards his affection, maybe even eager for it. Which was a clear indication of the toll growing pressures have taken on her. So he brushes away the moist tendrils of hair from her brow and assures her firmly that it would be alright in time and that was all that mattered, nothing else. And Emma nods her head quietly against his warm touch.

So this was it.

The turning point.

And the eve of the end; that impending spin of the eternal cycle. The one moment that would soon break them apart, and when his loss of her would become a definitive and absolute certainty.

Following in their carnal aftermath, as they lay together in hushed and sated disarray, the unexpected and completely unintended almost occurs. When Emma's breathing has slowed and deepened, her heightened nerves having finally calmed. She's nearly fallen asleep in his arms as his lips trail carefully along the path of her bare shoulder.

It was here, in the heart of this careless indulgence, as Gold's clouded eyes catch a stray glimpse of entwined silver, that the words nearly slip loose.

He'd stumbled on them, and she in turn had stiffened against him. Those profound little words left teetering on the edge; ready to fall.

But only if he let them.

And it dawns on Gold quite suddenly and rather sharply that he wanted to say them, to tell her, in spite of the risk of their inevitable downfall. And he's glaringly impassioned and hopeful enough then to be expectant of her mutual reciprocation.

He thinks that she's capable of it; of truly loving him.

His stare falls once more upon the glimmer of Emma's wrist. But before Gold can declare a single syllable—possibly condemning them both—she turns her head towards him and he's gripped and rendered silent by the clarity of her deliberate stare.

It stopped him cold, and chilled his old bones.

For it seems she was apprehensive and far more perceptive to the threat he unwontedly imposed on her, on all those around her, then he'd ever dreamed she would be.

Emma slowly twists herself more fully against him, lifts her hand delicately to brush her fingers along his lips briefly before tactfully resting them there to ensure he remained stilled and quieted.

"It's not real," she compels him, "please don't tell me it's real."

There's another meaning there and it's that, combined with her innate ability to pacify him, which rouses Gold from his momentary bout of impulsiveness and irrational desire.

So he leaves the words unsaid, balanced unevenly between them, and she smiles softly for him yet her eyes remain surprisingly difficult to read.

But with the weight of his averted declaration now stirring just below the surface, along with everything else already breaking it down, this is when things finally start to unravel and crumple apart.

Emma moves away abruptly, dresses quickly, and soon leaves him there alone. And Gold doesn't even try to stop her. He's seething inside, and bitter enough to know that it was better to simply let her go.

Left with nothing else he collapses into a restless slumber and is plagued by nightmares of what has passed and what will soon come to pass; of the pain to be inflicted, and the loss to endure because of it.

Days later Emma breaks the curse.

And Gold brings the full force of magic to this world.

Deception and hurt falls in the middle. As does a beautiful girl once thought forever lost. The cycle of tragedy is fractured; altered in an unforeseen manner. And suddenly nothing is, or can be, the way it was.

Or so he thinks. Perhaps this was hope. He'd never imagined the possibility of a second chance.

For true love.

The prospect is overwhelming, and startlingly problematic.

But, as always, the constant and interminable are ever existent and therefore they ultimately correlate themselves with the turning of events. And because it was a proven fact; he had, and would always, time and time again, destroy the things he loved most. Fatalities; it was in his nature to weave them with his affections.

So as one love appears to him out of the blue the other is ceremoniously lost as a consequence of his vindictiveness. Emma's gone, along with her mother. There's nothing to be done.

Knowing that is the price.

He's left momentarily crippled with emotion because of it; distraught and devastated yet again. Once more Gold finds himself utterly heartbroken. And by his own actions, as was per usual.

Another turn.

And he tries to tells himself over and over that this was his own fault—his suffering and disillusions, for he'd intentionally let things get too far with her—but he'll soon come to blame Emma for it. It's what he does, and what he's always done. Assign away the blame.

This was her fault.

So that evening, hidden under the sullen embrace of sorrow and candlelight, all he's capable of feeling is that pain of his loss and the fury that comes with it. And as a result Gold steadily and systematically burns every little thing that reminds him of her; ridding himself of Emma's memory and smashing to dust the pieces of his everlastingly longing heart.

This time he leaves no memento.

The next morning Gold awoke and rose anew; turned around and determined to reclaim his old and only love once more.

And so the cycle continues.

Author Notes:

Yay...another chapter done. Bit of a struggle that it was but it's finished now and turned out much better then the original draft. I do have some bad news though; I'm leaving in a few weeks for Europe. So that will pretty much shut down production for my writing for the next little while. It's why I was so determined to get this completed and posted; at least give my readers a little something before I go. And again its a longer chapter (I've been aiming for 1000 - 1500 word chapters but clearly, so far, that hasn't been working out like that at all) so that's an extra good thing.

This is definitely a big dividing point for the story. The curse is broken now but there's still a lot to be explored and developed for the Gold-Emma relationship in both the pre and post curse timelines so diffidently expect some back and forth in future chapters. It'll be interesting to continue building them up to the emotional points their each at here while also breaking them down in the aftermath of it all.

Fun times ahead...

Anyways, thoughts and reviews are appreciated and always welcome.

xoxo

Random side note: Anyone here a fan of The Borgias? I'm devastated by its cancellation, and just needed to tell people that.