I do not own Once Upon a Time.

This story is meant to take place after the Skin Deep episode. Bear with me on the first scene. I wanted it to be somewhat confusing like a dream. There are also some mature themes alluded to in this chapter as well as more mature content that will be in later chapters.

This is for everyone who no longer wish to wait another moment for these two to be together.

Second Chances

Part I: Sweet Dreams and Monsters

Just a dream, just a dream. She chanted to herself as her eyes traveled over the black dress she wore, a mourning dress laced in front by constricting cords. She was standing in what looked like a large hall of gray stone resembling that of a throne room or a church. Only there were no pews, no alter or throne, the room was completely bare. Gray stone surrounded her on all sides. High windows looked out to a cloudy night sky, the moon every once in a while piercing the darkness. She moved forward and felt something crunch beneath her feet. She looked down on the floor to see it covered with petals, but there was no color to them. No vibrant crimson, only gray, white and black; dead and lifeless. She felt her heart begin to pound, the unconscious part of her mind knowing what was about to happen.

She looked up. He was standing there, his face shadowed by the curled hair that fell over his eyes. He also wore black; leather vest over a black dress shirt. His green-golden skin only slightly luminescent from the struggling light of the moon.

This is not real. She told herself.

She turned around, knowing she had to get away. She only came face to face with a gold framed full length mirror. Her heart thudded. She could now see in the reflection that he stood behind her, his face still covered in shadow. He was angry, shouting. But his words were muffled as though she were hearing them from far away.

"You turned her against me!"

She saw in the reflection how he reached towards her. She turned back to him then, but she was pushed backwards by an invisible force. She felt the mirror give way behind her, glass shards cracking and splitting from the impact her body had on the fragile reflection.

She expected the shards to cut her, expected to land on their sharp edges when she finally landed. But that never happened. What she landed on was far worse, and she felt her stomach twist in terror when she felt the soft cushion of a bed beneath her back. Before she had any time to gather her senses, he was there, on her, over her. She tried to scream, to push him away.

No, this never happened! Her mind screamed.

"Shut up." He snarled, placing a hand over her mouth. Her throat began to burn, forcing her not to speak. Not to scream. She knew it wasn't real, she had had these dreams before. But they never felt real, the images were disjointed, scattered and coming into focus only to suddenly fade away. Sometimes she would be offered a blood red apple, the fruit being forced down her throat until the burning tore at her esophagus, other times they were pills, capsules of medication whose purpose she did not know.

She could feel his hands, clawing at the cords that held her bodice closed.

Her eyes shifted to the side. She saw him standing there, beside the bed, but he was different. His hair was straight, and he was wearing a dark jacket and pants, a black cane held in his hand. He stood as though he were made of stone. She couldn't understand what he was thinking, what he was feeling as her body was stripped bare by the beast that held her down. Her body felt nothing, everything was always dulled and numb. Only her mind could interpret what was happening and make no sense of it.

She no longer struggled against the hand that prevented her from speaking. With her mind barely grasping the images around her, she reached out to him. He stepped back from her reach, his face torn in agony and regret as he turned away from her. Fading into the darkness.

No. Her mind protested weakly, These are not mine. These are not my memories.

There was a sudden flash of blinding light from the darkness and she felt her body seize, struck. Along the right side of her back and thigh, pain sliced and snapped through her. Her skin burned as though it were being scorched with flame and ripped away. Finally, everything turned dark as he mind fell into a deeper slumber than dreams.

...

Henry stared at the pages set out in front of him. He didn't dare look at them at home. Regina could find them at any time. He had found a closet nook at the school where he used a flashlight to look at the papers. It had taken him months to get his hands on them. They had been securely locked away in a box hidden in a floor compartment by Regina's desk. The fact that she had taken extra care to hide them had only made him that much more determined to find out what they were. Henry grinned in satisfaction. It was amazing what kind of videos could be found on the internet, especially ones about picking locks.

He scanned the pages, seeing the faces of people he had never met, and yet they were labeled as citizens of Storybrook. His mind churned, noting that each person was labeled with what seemed to be multiple mental and social disorders. He knew he had to get these pages to Emma, but Regina had kept him under constant surveillance since Emma and Sydney had joined forces. He knew that there was only one person he could trust to get them to her. He gritted his teeth in frustration, hating the fact that he couldn't take part in the investigation. Hopefully soon, he'll have a chance to talk with her, and figure out another secret that Regina was keeping all of Storybrook from finding.

...

Emma and Mary looked over the pages that Henry had given to Mary to deliver. Both of them sat at Mary's dining room table with the pages spread out in front of them; Mary a bit more hesitant about looking at the papers of personal information than Emma was.

"This makes no sense," Emma said, "Why would it be important for Regina to hide these in her home."

"Maybe there's someone that she's trying to protect, keep from the public." Mary offered.

"That wouldn't surprise me, she certainly has a knack for keeping secrets."

Mary grinned as she glanced at another page and frowned, "I remember some of these people. I know that they were undergoing special treatment, but I had no idea that they were being kept here in Storybrook."

"These records belong in the hospital," Emma said, her suspicions on high alert for anything that stood out. The only thing that seemed to stand out the most were the dates. Some of the labeling was either blackened out or obscured and then changed, which made it nearly impossible to pinpoint when certain individuals had actually been committed to the ward. For all she knew they were all patients who had either been released or moved to another facility. Her eyes traveled over a name and she did a double take.

"Look at this," Emma said and Mary leaned over, "Look at the last name."

"French." Mary said in astonishment.

"Moe French. This must be his daughter." Emma remembered the man and his floral business. Emma frowned, thinking back.

"I remember her." Mary whispered, slouching back in her chair.

"You do?" Emma asked.

Mary shook her head a little, "Ya, just now it popped into my head. She was such a nice girl. Loved to read."

"What happened?" Emma asked.

Mary sighed, "She went missing for a while. When she was found she was completely different." She frowned, perplexed.

"Was that why she was committed?"

"It was awful." Mary said, "She tried to take her own life several times. Her fiancé left her. She went out into the middle of the road one night and was hit by a car. I heard that she had stopped speaking after it happened. After that, she was never seen again."

Mary shifted in her seat and stood, somewhat upset, "I really shouldn't be looking at these."

Emma nodded in understanding, "No, of course. I'll have them stored at the station."

Emma put the papers back into the folder. She hesitated on the daughter of Moe French. Emma looked at the image of the girl in the photo. Again, she thought about that night when Mr. Gold had kidnapped Moe.

"It was your fault, you shut her out!"

Emma knew she could get into a heap of trouble for this, but something about this didn't settle well with her. If she wanted to find answers without Regina knowing, she was going to have to go to the one person who could give them to her. Someone who was no more scared of Regina than she was.

...

The bell over his shop door jingled, and he sensed who it was before he even turned around.

"Come to buy yourself a trinket Miss Swan?"

"Not exactly," She answered. He turned to find her holding a folder in her hand.

"In that case, what can I do for you?"

"What do you know about the psychiatric ward beneath the hospital?"

He frowned, "Can't say I know much about it? Not very good with hospitals, not my style."

"But you knew Moe French's daughter."

His eyes turned stony, "Miss Swan, what is it you want?"

She clutched the folder close to her chest, steeling her nerves, "Mr. Gold, Moe French's daughter was committed to the ward over several years ago."

She could feel the change more than see it. The air practically crackled with the sudden tension in the room. His hand slightly tensed; knuckles turning white over the handle of his cane. "What?"

Emma sighed, "Don't ask me how I got this?" She placed the folder on the counter and flipped it open. She turned it around for him to see, the photo was small, paper clipped to the corner of a small stack of papers. He didn't look at the rest of the content. He might as well have been blind to them; he only saw the photo. He reached out an unsteady hand and plucked the photo from the folder, holding it in his hand.

"You didn't know?" Emma asked.

Her words seemed to snap him out of whatever reverie he was going through. "You need to leave."

Emma was caught off guard by the sudden dismissal, "But I thought..."

"Leave, Emma." He said, his voice low and deadly.

Something pulled at Emma, a sudden compulsion to get away from him. Slowly, she closed the folder, and walked to the exit. Before she left, she turned back to look at him, "I just thought that you might care to know."

With that, she left. Mr. Gold felt relieved at finally being alone. He felt drained, weak. He looked at the photo as he sank into one of the simple wooden chairs he kept in the back of his shop. His hand gripping the image so tightly that little creases bent the photo. His hand shook, boiling rage burning through him. The heat traveled up his throat, scorched his lungs. There were too many emotions churning inside of him. Fury, relief, pain, emptiness, his first impulse being to get her out and damning the cost, but he knew if he did that, it would cost him the game. He would have played all of his best pieces with nothing left to fight with. He took a deep breath, reigning in his temper. He had to think. Staring forward, he could feel his mind begin to work. Regina was playing a very dangerous game this time, one that he would win no matter what. Even if he had to set the entire chess board on fire.

...

Emma leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping coffee while she heard Mary bustling to get the laundry done. It had been several days since she had told Mr. Gold about the ward. She hadn't heard anything back from him, and no fires had been set recently. She wasn't sure if she should be nervous about that or not. Mary was carrying out a basket of clothes when there was a knock on the door. Shifting her load, Mary opened the door and both women looked up.

"Mr. Gold." Mary said. Emma noticed the packet of papers he had in his left hand. "Miss Blanchard," He nodded before his gaze went to Emma, "Miss Swan. I would like to speak with you."

"Oh, I'll leave you two alone," Mary started to say.

"No, this concerns you as much as it does the sheriff." Mr. Gold said as he came in and shut the door behind him. Both women exchanged a curious look before joining Mr. Gold at the dining room table. Mary put down her load of laundry and grabbed her cup of coffee she had sitting on the kitchen counter.

Mr. Gold sat across from them, leaning his cane against the little table and folding his hands in front of him.

"I fear that I must ask something of you Miss Swan."

Emma smiled, "Does this mean your calling in on your favor?"

"No, this concerns the girl whom you have discovered in the...psychiatric ward beneath the hospital."

"Alright," Emma said, instantly wary. It seemed that none of them, Mr. Gold included, felt comfortable referring to the ward as a place for psychiatric treatment.

"Regina must never know that I made this request of you. I have already spoken to the girls father."

Emma raised her eyebrows in surprise. Moe French had been released from the hospital a week ago. He was making a good recovery, but still had to wear a neck brace from the beating he had taken from Gold. Both men were still paying for their crimes of theft, assault and kidnapping. She could imagine that the sudden meeting must not have been easy for either of them. "How did that go?"

Mr. Gold smirked. "I find I can be very persuasive when I want to be, he sees the benefits to the plan as well as I do and we have met a mutual understanding, despite our confrontations. I'll take care of the details." He brought out the packet of papers and slid them across the table. Emma started flipping through them, frowning when she read what the contract entailed. Even the proper legal documents were included in the packet for the possibility that the patient had been involuntary committed to the ward.

"Why are you doing this?"

Mr. Gold straightened his tie, "The girl was an acquaintance of mine long ago. I know that Regina keeps her locked away under false pretense."

"Why would she do that?" Mary asked, cradling her cup of coffee between her hands.

Mr. Gold looked at her, his eyes intense. "Take a guess."

Emma felt it then, a deeper feeling he didn't want anyone else to see. Somehow, by Regina keeping the girl locked away, she was hurting him. Emma didn't know how. By him coming here and not taking a direct involvement, he was protecting himself from Regina knowing that he had any interest in the matter. Emma closed the packet, "I'll do whatever I can."

He gave her a bitter smile, "Glad we understand each other." He got up to leave and turned when he reached the door, "I have an account available to you should you need any type of reimbursement for your troubles."

Emma had seen the account number and withdrawal information so that the funds were in the name of Moe French. She knew instinctively who the money was for, but she didn't say anything more as he left their home.

...

"Miss Swan, might I ask what you think you are doing?"

Emma turned to see Regina walking towards her as one of the hospital personnel opened the door that led to the underground levels.

"There was a request from the father of one of the patients. Seeing as how her levels of aggression have decreased he's hoping that a change of environment might help her to recover fully." Emma answered without missing a beat.

"I'll be the judge of that Miss Swan. Which patient are you referring to?"

Emma handed the mayor the folder she had acquired, watching Regina's reaction as she opened it. There was barely any change to the mayor's features as she looked upon the contents, but her eyes turned fierce, cold. Even her hands began to tremble in frustration as she snapped the folder shut. If she recognized the files as being similar to the ones that she had been keeping in her home, she gave no further indication of recognition, which gave Emma the answer she needed. Regina was never meant to have the files in the first place, and to admit as such would only cause her trouble.

"I can assure you Miss Swan, this patient will be much safer and taken care of in the environment she is currently in."

"Reports have shown that she has no history of being violent towards others, but she has been here several years now and hasn't spoken a word since the accident. The father believes that it would be best for her to be around people she's familiar with, people that she can talk to and people who can help her."

"I'll speak with the father myself." Regina said as she handed the folder to Emma, instantly dismissing the matter. "This facility has the best specialists working around the clock helping her to recover."

"Everything has already been signed." Emma said as she pulled out a copy of the packet Mr. Gold had given her. She had a feeling that Regina had spoken with the father before; had been responsible for the girl being committed to the ward in the first place.

Regina took the papers, flipping through them with a critical eye. "Where are the original papers?"

"Everything has been stored at the station."

A look of pure aggravation, and even a glimmer of panic, flickered in Regina's dark eyes before her features were once again set into lines of complete indifference. Regina closed the folder and sighed, "Miss Swan, let me advise you, I look out for the best interest of my community. I will not have that jeopardized because you suddenly think yourself eligible for taking care of a mentally unstable young girl."

"This is a personal family matter Madam Mayor. I'm not in any way trying to undermine your authority, otherwise I would have brought this matter to you if I had thought it relevant, but this is purely the request of a father concerned for his only child. Everything will be covered, he just wants to make sure that we give this a chance. If it doesn't work, then I'll concede that this is the best place for her."

"You don't concede to anything Miss Swan. I know I'm right about this." Regina paused for a moment, "If anything should go wrong, I'm holding you responsible."

"Yes, Madam Mayor."

Emma held her breath as Regina started to turn away, but then the mayor turned back, "One last thing." Regina's dark eyes fastened on Emma, "Whatever you do, keep her away from Mr. Gold."

Emma frowned, feigning confusion, "Why do you say that?"

"Oh, I thought you knew." Regina said, a look of satisfaction crossing her features, "Before the patient came here, she was missing for a time. When we found her a few months later, she was struck with depression. She tried to take her own life several times. She was always an unstable girl, but something had happened to make her like this."

"You think Mr. Gold had something to do with it?" Emma asked, not knowing what to believe.

"I'm not saying that he did, I know he did. It's why I keep her here, where he can never find her. I'm trying to protect her from lapsing into the same state she was in when we first found her all those years ago. Heed my advice Miss Swan, if you want what's best for the girl, you'll keep her away from him."

...

Emma sat across from the girl at the dining table. They had found her some clothes and instead of the regular scrub outfit, she was now wearing a loose white t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. She didn't seem to be mentally deficient in any way from what Emma could see, she had told the girl the situation and the patient had seemed to understand what was going on. Emma had been sure to leave out the part where Mr. Gold had had any involvement in her release. The patients blue-gray eyes were sharp, taking in everything around her as though it were the first time she was seeing it. Her hair was a bit mussed, the ends split from not being under the care of proper conditioning for a long while. Emma had had to consult with the nurse about the medication that would need to be administered, but Emma had taken one look at the list of medication and had cut the list to less than half the products. Most of what they had given her were to help her sleep. Emma figured that the dosage could always change should there be a problem.

They still had to have certified medical personnel check in every once in a while, but at least the first step of getting her out of the ward had worked. Mary was able to get some time off of work enough so that both of them could schedule time to keep an eye on the patient for a while until they were sure she was comfortable with staying with them. The girl was currently looking at the scars on her wrist, tracing them and frowning as though the fact that they were there upset and perplexed her. She had other jagged scars on her back and thigh; a result of the car that had hit her on the road.

"So, your name is..." Emma jumped in her seat when the girls hand slapped over the name she was about to read.

Emma looked up. The girl shook her head firmly, an angry frown marring her features.

"Okay, what name would you like to be called?" Emma asked calmly.

For a moment, the girl looked lost, she looked around the room as though wishing to simply pluck a name from thin air. Her gaze focused on Mary, who was snipping a batch of roses to place into a vase. Emma followed her gaze, seeing Mary smell one of the roses before placing it within the glass vase.

Emma looked over to the girl whose features now looked melancholy, "Rose?"

She looked at her, her eyes looking both lighted from within and yet guarded.

"Would you like to be called Rose?"

Again, she looked saddened, but she smiled and nodded.

...

For the first week, Emma could see why there had been such concern about the transition. Rose would mostly stay in her room, she wouldn't speak, and even when they brought her food she would barely touch it. It was like she was hollow inside. It seemed like there was nothing there, but she would sometimes look around her, seeming lost and alone. Like she didn't know where she was. But she never became violent or frustrated and she never tried to hurt herself. She did as she was told, she would sometimes sit with them, but her eyes were vacant. Both Emma and Mary felt discouraged, trying their best to have the girl come out of her shell. But nothing seemed to work. Rose seemed to also have a great deal of trouble sleeping. Emma could sometimes hear her at night wake up, gasping for breath. When they would check on her, she always looked upset and afraid to fall back asleep. Most days she had dark circles under her eyes and a slight redness to them as though she had spent the night crying. Emma was at a loss, she didn't know what to do and she had no idea what Mr. Gold had expected. That Rose would get better? That she would make a hasty recovery? That didn't' seem to be the case.

During one afternoon, Emma went into Rose's room; a spare room that Mary had used as an office before she cleaned it out and turned it into a bedroom with a little portable bed that she had been able to borrow from Granny's Inn. Seeing the girl curled up on the bed buried under the covers facing away from the door, Emma knocked, "May I come in?"

Slowly, Rose nodded, still not turning around to look at her. Emma walked in and went over to the bed, awkwardly sitting down next to her. Emma sat there for a moment, looking at the exposed stone walls of the room and the furniture that had been moved to the edges of the space.

"Look, I get why you would be unhappy here. I don't blame you." Emma looked over to Rose, but she still didn't move from her curled position, "I think it would be pretty difficult to be happy in a place where Regina Mills is the mayor."

Rose flinched.

Emma sighed, "Despite what you've gone through, or what you think, you have friends here. People who want to help you. We all have things in our pasts that we regret, or don't want to remember." Emma paused, "Henry is my biological son, but I gave him up for adoption."

Rose shifted then, looking over to her. "Henry now belongs to Regina. I can't tell you how much I regret what I did, because I know he's not happy. Mary is in love with someone whose married." Emma smiled, "Henry seems to think that they're meant for each other though. He thinks that everyone here is trapped, that everyone is a character from a story." Rose shifted so that she was once again turned away.

"We all try to deal with life the best way that we can, but this isn't how you do it." Emma said, "You can't just shut life out and expect it to just change and get better, if you want things to change, you need to make it happen." Emma got up to leave, hoping that she didn't sound too harsh, but knowing that it was necessary. Something needed to happen for Rose to snap out of this state. She was depressed, but there was still life inside of her, Emma could sense it, and she just hoped that something of what she said would get through to her.

...

The next day, Mary and Emma were sitting at the dining table when they heard the door to Rose's room open. Neither of them said anything as she went to the kitchen where breakfast was prepared. She fixed herself a plate and sat across from them. She had changed from her pajamas into a light pink peasant skirt and a brown long sleeved top. Her hair was partially pulled back, revealing her features that she usually would keep hidden with the thick strands. She looked over to them and gave them a small smile. Picking up her fork, she started to eat a healthy portion of food.

As the days went by, Rose would watch them intently as though learning everything for the first time. She developed a taste for coffee in the morning, and even became addicted to vacuuming the house. She seemed fascinated with the refrigerator and soon became a heavy user of the television and the internet. She researched news articles of Storybrook, anything that she could find, almost as though she were trying to make up for an entire lifetime of memories. The atmosphere in the home had finally turned, Mary and Emma looking at one another in relief when they would catch Rose smiling about something she saw on the television or the internet. She loved watching musicals; music quickly became one of her passions and she would more often than not be seen with an mp3 player and a pair of ear phones on. She still had trouble sleeping, but Mary had been correct about another thing, the woman loved to read. She went through entire novels in one day and would stay up most nights reading them. She loved the Jane Austen series and any other book they had in the home. Emma and Mary so desperately wanted to give her a chance to go outside, but after discussing the possibilities of Regina's accusations, the chance of Rose meeting Mr. Gold was too great of a risk. Especially since she seemed to be well on her way to a full recovery. They tried to bring her more books from the library, and tried to coax her into speaking, but no matter how hard they tried in that area, she still would not, and could not speak a word.