I still haven't don't own Once Upon A Time. Wish I did.

This is the third in my "Lucy" series of stories. Lucy is an OC, but she is NOT a Mary Sue.

This story has not been beta-read. Is anyone out there interested in the job? Please read and enjoy. AND please review!

Lucy's Turn

Chapter 1

"Sheriff Swan," Ruby blurted out, "you'd better get down here right away."

Emma rubbed the sleep from her eyes, as she answered the phone. "Wha's goin' on, Ruby?" A yawn garbled her speech.

"Emma!" Ruby yelled. "Wake up! Gold's girlfriend is drunk as a skunk, and she won't leave." Belligerent voices were heard arguing in the background. The louder, insistent voice was clearly Granny's. The other voice, slurred and arrogant, must belonged to Gold's mysterious girlfriend.

The very thought that the creepy old man was a two-timing player burst through her drowsy mind like a grenade. Emma sat bolt upright in bed. "Gold has a girlfriend?" she shouted into the phone, waking her bed partner. "You mean he's two-timing Belle?"

Ruby growled with frustration. "Just get over here now, Emma! And, you'd better bring help! Granny's gone to get her crossbow!"

The clattering, ringing sounds of broken glass and shouting voices nearly deafened Sheriff Emma Swan. Even Killian, still half-asleep, heard the noise over the phone line. He leapt from the bed and was half-dressed before Emma.

"Ok, on my way," Emma stated as professionally as she could manage. "Killian," she asked, "what time is it anyway?"

"Quarter to three, love," he answered softly.

Quickly, she hurried into her clothes, holstered her gun, and pulled her hair into a messy ponytail. When she finished, Killian was already at the door waiting for her.

"Ready?" he asked.

Emma inhaled deeply, quirking an eyebrow. "I hope so."

"I dare ya, ya ol' cow!" The cantankerous drunken voice could be heard in the street.

Sheriff Swan, followed closely by Killian, entered Granny's dinner to find the owner threatening Storybrooke's defense attorney with her crossbow.

The proprietor's sea green eyes were rock steady as she glared at the younger woman, and her finger held firmly on the trigger of her weapon. By contrast, the youthful attorney was wobbling on unsteady legs. Her once crisp navy blue business suit was crumpled and stained.

"Put that down, Mrs. Lucas," Sheriff Emma Swan ordered the older woman.

The widow Lucas remained stock still, not giving an inch. Her cool-as-a-cucumber façade was marred only by tiny beads of perspiration dotting her brow. "I will when she hands over that dagger," Granny retorted calmly.

" 'shnot gonna happ'n," the public defender replied in a smug sing-song voice. She jerked her head back and forth. "Nup, nup, nup." Her usually neat bun had come loose, and her hair was stringing about her face. She looked like a broken bobble head doll. With drunken elegance, Lucy twisted the navy blue belt back around to the front so she could grasp the handle of the Kris dagger. "Do ya know whut thish ish?" she demanded imperiously. "Thish ish Rumbleshitskin's dagger," Lucy Farmer explained carefully.

Killian snorted and broke out in loud and delighted guffaws of laughter.

Lucy wheeled around and turned her flashing blue eyes on the ex-pirate. "Jush wha da hell ya laffin at, Barnacle Boy?" Frowning slightly, she staggered back around to face Granny. She held one hand on the dagger like a gunslinger while she pointed a finger at the older woman. "No, shee here, you bedder put tha thang down cuz thash a dangeroush weapon an Rubblespitskin ish my - " Lucy broke off abruptly. She squeezed her eyes shut for a long moment while she wobbled in place.

"Ms. Farmer," Emma held out her arms and took a small step forward, "why don't you just settle down, and we - "

Lucy opened her eyes, squinting back and forth between Emma and Granny, and tried again. "No! No! Shee, Ruppleshiltspin ish my - " Lucy stumbled slightly to the left and nodded vigorously at Ruby. "Hey, whaeverdahell hish name ish, well, hesh my - " Again, she stopped in mid-sentence, but this time she swallowed hard. Her face was as white as a sheet.

Seizing the moment, Sheriff Swan gently took the attorney by the arm. She pitched her voice low and soft. "Ms. Farmer, just let me help you, okay?"

Slowly, then, the town's defense attorney turned to face the Sheriff. "Sheriff Shwan? I don' feel sho good." She promptly threw up over and over, splattering Emma's shoes.

With a disgusted sigh and snort, Granny lowered her crossbow and set it on the counter. Hands on her hips, she pointed to the disgusting mess on her floor, which was increasing with every heave. "And who's gonna clean that up?" she demanded.

Emma winced with every retch of the lawyer, but she held the petite woman compassionately by the shoulders. Repulsive though the whole situation was, she could remember quite vividly doing the same thing herself once or twice. "Well, I don't think Ms. Farmer is capable of cleaning it at the moment," she told Granny. "I'll get her home, and you can send her a bill for the cleaning in the morning, all right?"

Killian Jones covered his mouth with his fist and loudly cleared his throat. With a broad smirk, he winked at Granny. "I think, maybe, the lady should call 'Rumbleshitskin' to clean the mess," he suggested slyly. He pointed to the Kris dagger hanging around her waist like a dirty loin cloth. "She has his dagger and with it control of the dreaded Dark One."

"Oh, I'd love to see that," Granny asserted with a chuckle. She snatched a couple of napkins from a holder and wiped the sweat beads from her brow. "Watching Mr. Gold cleaning up puke from the floor of my dinner at three in the morning is just what I need." She arched a lone brow until it disappeared under a sweat dampened gray curl. "And," she offered, upping the ante, "I'll drop all charges against her if she can get him to clean it up." She gave a feral grin.

"And 'Rumbleshitskin' could take her home, too," Killian added cleverly. "No troubling paperwork." He grinned, his perfect teeth shining like pearls. "So, what do you say?" he addressed Storybrooke's defense attorney. "Will you summon the Dark One, Madam Solicitor?"

Lucy's blonde hair was sticking to her pallid face. Her bloodshot blue eyes were unnaturally bright with tears as she turned them up towards the tall pirate. "Whaddid ya call me?" she whispered through her whiskey haze. "Um na no husshy." She began to sob, and she clutched Emma's red jacket. "Make tha mean man take it back," she begged.

Emma frowned. Her good leather jacket was being ruined by tears, snot, and vomit. "Killian," she growled, "apologize to the lady."

"But I didn't say - " he sputtered. Emma gave him a wide-eyed, shut-up-and-do-as-I-say glare. He ducked his head. "Ms. Farmer," he said formally, "I sincerely regret that anything I have said may have caused you undue stress. I would not, for a kingdom's keep, willingly impinge the honor of a lady." He bowed gallantly towards all of the women present, including a hard-eyed Granny and a blushing Ruby. He concluded, "I can only profoundly beg for your gracious forgiveness."

Jones raised his eyebrows in a quick question, and Emma answered with a short nod. Ms. Farmer's reply was an inarticulate something, which everyone took as acceptance of his pseudo-apology. She suddenly plopped down unceremoniously on the floor, barely escaping the foul-smelling puddle. Pulling out the dagger, she held it to her breast and called for the Dark One.

"Pumppleshlitzfin, I command you to appear." When he didn't appear, a look of hurt passed swiftly across her face; it was followed immediately by one of anger. "Damnit," she mumbled to herself. A frown cut across her forehead, and she gripped the dagger with fervor. "Hey, Dark One!" she exclaimed. "Get yor shkinny ash here now!"

A profound, purple cloud of smoke pooled up from the puddle of puke. When it cleared, there stood a very bewildered Dark One dressed in dark blue silk pajamas with pale blue trim. "What the - " He didn't finish this thought because he suddenly noticed the disgusting half-digested, whiskey-sodden mass beneath his bare feet. He transferred his weight heavily onto his good left leg and gingerly lifted his right foot, inspecting with revulsion the detritus clinging between his toes.

Fear encircled the room as he deliberately settled his foot back into the mess and coolly surveyed each individual. His stormy brown eyes lingered a tad too long for comfort on each person in the diner. The corner of his upper lip trembled with the effort not to completely lose his composure, and his voice vibrated with near rage. "To whom do I owe the pleasure of requesting my presence?" Violent violet magical sparks flared randomly from his fingertips.

"Rubble!" Lucy cried with delight. Her attempt to scramble up from the floor ended in disaster as she slipped and fell at his feet. Dagger still firmly gripped in her right hand, Lucy managed to shift onto her hands and knees. Pure love shone in her eyes for all to see as she looked up at him. A brilliant smile softened her face. "Hey, Rupple," she hiccough the last syllable.

When the near homicidal anger had drained from his features, a collective sigh was released from those present. "Lucy," he sighed and heaved her upright. He held her against his good left side to keep her steady. "You're drunk," he stated the obvious. "And, filthy." He grimaced. Gently, he reached for her hand holding the dagger and guided it back into the sheath belted around her waist.

Gold turned towards Emma, pointedly ignoring the others. "Good morning, Sheriff Swan," he growled. "Perhaps you'd be so good as to explain."

"Yeah," she told him. "Your, ah, friend -" Emma pointed to Lucy, who was cuddling unashamedly against him. " - got plastered and damaged the place. She thought you might take care of the situation."

Gold grunted. "Mrs. Lucas, I'll cover any expenses you may have incurred. Good night." He raised his hand to whisk them away but was stopped by Emma.

"See, Mrs. Lucas agreed not to press any charges if you'd personally clean up the damages yourself," Emma added. She pointed towards the repugnant puddle of puke.

"She did?" Gold asked slowly. He turned a steely eyed face towards the proprietor. Granny, clearly refusing to be intimidated, held out a cleaning rag and a bucket and grinned at him.

Killian couldn't resist. "Oh, yes," he added, "Ms. Farmer clearly reassured us that her beloved 'Rumbleshitskin' would fix everything." He tilted his head, eyes sparkling, and smirked smugly at the older man.

Gold's eyes glittered with hatred at the pirate, but they softened when he heard Lucy. Arms wrapped about his waist, she told everyone, "Oh, he can! Rummel can fixsh everythin cuz hesh wonnerful." Her eyes sparkled with love.

Inhaling loudly and deeply, Gold asked, "And if I agree to clean up and repair the damages 'personally' tonight, may I take Ms. Farmer and leave this wretched establishment?"

A volley of agreement answered his question. A smile, which caused more than one of them to quiver in fear, spread across his features. "It's a deal," he ground out. With a magnificent sweep of his arm and a tremendous explosion of wine-colored smoke, Granny's dinner was swept clean. In fact, it was far cleaner than it had ever been. When the smoke cleared, Gold and Lucy were gone.