Warning: This story will eventually contain gratuitous amounts of Emma on Gold action. Also this story picks up after the episode "Hat Trick" but now exists in its own separate AU timeline and (probably) won't be affected by future OUAT television developments. This is my first fan fiction so be kind. Or be cruel. Or be cruel to be kind, it's really up to you.

Tender is the Night is dedicated to Rhinegold whose work Time Around inspired me to write this Emma/Gold story. I appreciate you Rhinegold. Also I've been stalking you on tumblr. I hope that you don't find that too off putting (but I'd totally understand if you did).

Tender is the Night by Cleopatricide

Emma grabbed the take out bag from Granny's diner, apprehensive to get back to the Sheriff's office where a lone Mary Margaret waited anxiously in her prison cell. The paper loudly crinkled in her arms and she could feel the heat from the fresh made food burn against her chest as she pressed the bag close to her body. This was the warmest she'd felt in days.

"Emma."

She turned around and saw the eager face of Archie briskly walking towards her. He smiled and graciously opened the door for her.

"Thanks, Archie. How are you?" She asked while bracing herself for the dreary Maine weather which gave no indication that it was aware of the changing seasons.

"Oh, I just finished having lunch with Marco. I actually have something I wanted to ask you." He paused as he struggled to open his umbrella while holding onto Pongo's leash. Emma waited patiently for Archie to continue, concealing the frustration she felt by shoving her face into the opening of the take out bag and inhaling the comforting scents of the diner. She simple wanted to get out of the rain, eat her lunch and sit in her warm sheriff's office. She liked her office. It was warm, safe, and offered a barrier between her and the loopy eccentrics this town tended to collect as if they were rare, mentally unstable butterflies.

"Sorry about that." He smiled at her sheepishly. Emma returned the smile, unable to stay frustrated at Archie because of the complete unaffected openness and kindness he consistently wore as if it were the tweed sports coat he was so fond of wearing. "Rough night?" he asked.

"You could say that." she said choosing her words carefully.

It had been more than a rough night. After safely depositing Mary Margaret back into her jail cell, Emma had returned to Jefferson's house in an attempt to locate his body. She had searched the forest in vain until she could no longer feel the tips of her fingers and her flash light had begun to flicker and fade. Emma then returned to her apartment feeling unsettled and anxious. She'd poured herself a shot of whiskey, justifying it by saying that after being kidnapped, drugged, and forced to engaging in millinery activity at gun point, she needed a drink to calm her nerves. That shot had led to a few fifths too many and she'd ended up on the sofa attempting to masturbate to a Betamax tape of Tootsie. Eventually she gave up. It was too difficult to try and fantasize about a dragged out Dustin Hoffman and Emma couldn't shake the feeling that at any moment Regina was going to arrive unannounced, opening their apartment door with one of her literal skeleton keys, and proceed to lecture Emma.

"How do you think Henry would react if he saw you drunk, splayed out on the sofa with your whore's panties around your knees, thrashing around like a fish out of water." Imaginary Regina said disapprovingly.

Emma had then passed out on Mary Margaret's bed, falling asleep with her face pressed into its the downy soft pillows as the gentle smell of Mary Margaret surrounding her like an extra security blanket.

"It's about cats." Archie said interrupting Emma's depressing recollection of last night.

"What?"

"Well, specifically my cat. It's Sergeant Tibbs. He's gone missing."

"Sergeant Tibbs, the cat, has gone missing. Is that correct?" she asked.

"He's been missing since Sunday night. And normally I'd chalk it up to cats just being independent but I'm also missing several tins of cat food." He said as he repositioned his umbrella so that Emma was protected from the fine drizzle that was beginning to fall.

"Did the thief steal anything else or was it just the cat food?"

"Well, Sergeant Tibbs."

"Other than the cat and the cat food was anything else taken?" she asked.

"That's the strangest thing, nothing else is missing." He tightened his grip on Pongo's leash.

"I'm sorry to hear that Archie." She paused for a moment wondering if she should pat him on the back to show he had her sympathy but her hands were full and she was terrible at emotional overtures, so she continued on hoping that her voice reflected empathy.

"I'll start looking into it as soon as possible. There might be a slight, delay, though. I mean with the whole Katherine Nolan trial…" she trailed off; she wasn't sure how to finish that sentence. Finishing that sentence meant drudging up all of the frustration, anger and shit that had surrounded this fucking three ring circus the past few days.

"I'm truly sorry to hear about what happened to Ms. Blanchard. I hope that the trial goes well for the both of you. But with Mr. Gold on the case, how can you lose?" He smiled at her.

"Mr. Gold certainly seems confident, but that seems to be his default setting." Emma grumbled. She thought back to her deal with Mr. Gold. She knew that by making that back room bargain she was, essentially, getting in bed with the devil. Well, she thought, Mr. Gold has already fucked me over before, at least I know what to expect.

"I don't know about that. He seems to have smug down pat too." He laughed before getting back to the matter at hand. "But back to Sergeant Tibbs my neighbor, Ms. Ginger, also told me that her cat is missing too." He said while tugging on Pongo's leash trying to dissuade his dog from leaping into some of the more sizeable mud puddles.

"I'll swing by your place this evening and take a look around, see if I can find any evidence that would point to our thief. And if anyone else mentions their cat is missing direct them to my office." She said while scooting closer to Archie so she was completely covered by the large black umbrella.

"Certainly. Well it looks like this is your stop. Emma, I know that the trial is just gearing up and well, with how close you are to Ms. Blanchard." He stumbled over his next words, unsure of how to continue. He blushed and adjusted his glassed while Emma patiently waited for him to continue. "What I'm trying to say is if you ever need anyone to talk to, well, my door is always open for you. Have a good day, Ms. Swan." He gave her a gentle pat on the back, the hand on her shoulder was firm and reassuring and it was the most human contact that she'd received in a long time. Emma was embarrassed by how much his touch comforted her.

"Thanks Archie, I really appreciate your support. I hope you have a good day too." She gave him a small wave as she unlocked the Sheriff's office and went inside.

"Mary Margaret I'm back and I see you have company." Emma struggled to stifle an exasperated sigh as she observed Mr. Gold conversing with Mary. He was sitting in a chair across from her roommate's cell, his cane laid across his lap. He smiled his usual tight thin smile and, ever the consummate gentlemen, he stood to greet her.

"Ah Sheriff, how are you today?" he asked.

"I think the better question would be how you did you get in here Gold?" she said as she walked towards Mary's cell.

"You left the door unlocked. You should be lucky that I'm the one in here and not Regina." He said.

Emma concentrated on his face, searching for any kind of tell or twitch that would indicate that he was being untruthful. As always, Mr. Gold's true intentions remained evasive, deeply hidden beneath his small smile and clipped tone.

"That's what you're going to go with, really." She rolled her eyes. "Here Mary Margaret I brought you lunch. If you would have called to let me know you were coming Gold, I would have picked some up for you as well."

She handed Mary her lunch, their fingers briefly touching through the bars. At that moment all Emma wanted to do was open the cell door and pull Mary into a tight embrace. Every night that she left the office and headed over to their apartment was another cruel reminder that so far Emma had failed to protect her friend.

"Actually, Ms. Swan, I'm still waiting for that ice cream cone." Mr. Gold said.

Emma stood there unable to process a response.

"That was a joke dear."

Mary laughed softly which caused her round cherubic face to light up with pleasure. It was a welcome sight. The past few days had left her looking pinched and wane. That brief flash of happiness transported Emma to a happier time when she and Mary used to sit at the kitchen island, drinking MacCutcheon whiskey and complaining about the dismal state of their love lives. How did, she wondered, everything become so decidedly fucked up?

"Funny." She responded as she sat down at her desk and unpacked her lunch. Mr. Gold sat back down and stared thoughtfully at Emma. She fought down a blush and focused her attention onto the Ruben that Ruby had prepared for her.

Fairytales, evil queens, magic hats and murder trials, her life was complicated enough; she didn't need to compound everything by nursing an odd fixation with the at worst evil at best morally ambiguous Mr. Gold. She bite into her sandwich, I need to get laid, she thought desperately.

The room was silent as Emma and Mary ate their lunch.

"Well I must depart. I have great confidence in your case Ms. Blanchard. I'm positive that you will not be residing in that jail cell for much longer." He reached his hand through the bars of the cell and took her hand in his. "Don't worry, Ms. Blanchard, I have complete control of the situation."

Mary shook his hand. Emma watched her plaster on a false smile that distended her cheeks but failed to reach her eyes.

"Good bye Ms. Blanchard, Ms. Swan." He fixed his gaze on Emma and smiled.

Not wanting to seem intimidated she met his gaze, staring into his eyes as if to say 'I may have just compromised my entire code of ethics by dealing with you but don't think that gives you a competitive advantage.' Or it might have just come off as 'My mouth is full of sauerkraut so I can't talk but I am going to chew loudly and stare at you because I'm a fucking incompetent.'

"It's raining." She said lamely.

"A little rain never hurt anyone." She watched him as he confidently strode out of her office and quickly made his way down Storybrooke's Main Street.

"If anyone can get me out of this it's him." Mary said, breaking the silence that had settled over the office.

Emma heard the unspoken question mark that lingered at the end of that sentence and responded, "Yep."

She stood in the middle of the damp garden, her bare feet sinking deep into the freshly tilled soil. She wiggled her toes.

She stopped.

She wiggled them again and let out a long and low giggle as the mud clung to spaces in between her toes.

"Squelch." She whispered. "Squelch." She repeated the word again; she liked how pronouncing it made her teeth click together. She wondered where her retainer was. It's probably in the phone book she thought. Under R for retainer. She laughed.

No.

She had intended to laugh but only managed to produce a choked and muffled sob. She desperately tried to stifle the noise but she could feel it clawing against her throat.

A wounded animal scrabbling to survive in a dark and unforgiving place.

She was having trouble breathing. She was always having trouble breathing.

Well not for much longer. Soon, things would change and this time they would change in her favor.

The night was dark.

Dark.

Darker than normal.

Or maybe the night was always this dark and she'd never noticed it before. Recently she'd been having trouble noticing things, the real things. The world around her seemed perpetually fuzzy and out of focus, like she was riding the tea cup ride at the Miner's Day Festival while simultaneously looking at the world through a camera lens smeared in Vaseline. It made her dizzy to think about, so she stopped.

Her calf itched.

She heard the grass rustle and prepared herself for disappoint. It's probably just another false alarm she thought. She crouched down, trying to make herself seem as small as possible; too small to be seen. It was a trick she had learned early on and even now it continued to be a valuable skill. She placed her palms on the wet soil. She could feel the dirt sinking in under her finger nails.

I hope I don't get worms, she thought.

A shape gradually made its way towards her. It was a fat tabby cat lumbering through the damp grass, unfazed by the crummy weather. Its bushy tale bounced back and forth as it wandered through its garden.

Finally, she thought, finally.

"Here kitty kitty kitty. Here precious kitty."