The dark one as stepfather🍎

Jefferson🍎

Moira groans and moves her hip. She opens her eyes, surprised that she doesn't feel a rock-hard surface under her. She is overcome with a severe headache. She attempts to examine her surroundings, not knowing what transpired. The warm light of the corridor enters through the cracked door. It exposes the large bedroom she's in. The lavender scent pervades the comfortable bed beneath her. She frantically attempts to recall what occurred. Keith comes to mind, and... the man? The man did not come to her rescue at all! She can already understand the man's actual intentions because her wrists are tied with a rope and a rag is bound between her jaws! A familiar voice may be heard echoing down the corridor. Is that, Emma?"You have a tied-up woman in your bed" she says. "That's none of your business," answers the man. His accent is familiar to her. "I'm the deputy, so it's definitely my concern." Now, please let my friend go!" "Emma, Emma, I told you already. I'll let you and your friend go if you help me."Moira takes a quick peek around the room. What happened to her jacket? Did he took it? Why? She is startled by a loud thump. "Emma," she yells, but Emma can't hear her. "Where has he gone?" Mary Margareth inquires. "I don't know, come on!" "But..." "There's no time; we'll be late for your trial." "I'll call Graham and have him come get her," Emma adds. Moira panics and says, "No." Don't abandon me here! She struggles desperately to break free from the restraints. She rolls out of bed,with a thud. Fuck, she laments. She rolls onto her back with tremendous difficulty. She's looking for something sharp. She struggles to sit up, growling. 

"Well, if you aren't a little daredevil," someone says behind her. With a delighted smirk on his face, the man leans against the door frame.Moira locks her gaze on his dark brown eyes. When the man approaches, she panics and attempts to crawl back quickly. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you." Regardless of what I say. Probably," he scoffs, gently shaking his head. He laughs momentarily. "Calm down, Moira," he says as he helps her up. Every time he whispers her name, she gets chills. "You know, since we're going to spend some time together, maybe I'll explain something." Jefferson's is the name, and you, Moira... You're my salvation. Option A, sadly, does not include a dosage of collaboration. As a result, we only have choice B. So you," he replies as he smiles at her.Moira, desperate, struggles to break free from his grasp. But Jefferson is too powerful. When you look at his arms, it's no surprise. Moira shivers as he puts her down onto a white wood chair. "Shut up now," he commands, removing the handkerchief from her head. "What the hell do you want?" she questions, perplexed. "I don't require anything from you." I require something from your father." "My father!" she says, surprised. "But.." Oh, right, you have no father in your cursed mind. You have no clue how fortunate you are. There are no two stories in your brain. That, you know, is the true curse. Double the agony, double the isolation. I'm at a loss on what to do. I had tried your mother, but she refused to give me what I requested." "I realize you're in agony, Jefferson, but please. You've got the wrong one. I don't have a mother or a father." "Oh no? So, how did you come into this world? What, the coleslaw?" Moira chews her lower lip. She has no recollection of her parents. How is that possible?! Jefferson wipes a tear away from her face. "Just take my word for it; I'm not going to hurt you. "Well, if you cooperate," he says with a grin. "And if your father cooperates," he shrugs as he places a teacup to her lips. He carefully assists her in drinking. Jefferson brushes the backs of his fingers on her cheek. "Oh Moira, so many things I want and can do with you..." "Jefferson," she begs. "First and foremost, I must reclaim my Grace," he says quietly. "Your Grace?" "My daughter," he says defeatedly. His touch causes her entire body to shake. With each contact, a peculiar type of energy pours between their bodies. What exactly is it? "For twenty-eight years, I was alone in this house. Could you imagine? Emma then drove her yellow VW Beetle into this settlement. And then things began to shift. And now... I require my grace. More than ever before!"I'm sorry Jefferson but I.." "Of course, you don't know," he responds. "But that's no problem, Moira, he knows." "Who is he?" "Of course, your father!" Don't worry, I'll make sure you get to know each other," he says, dragging Moira up."No, let go of me," she pleads, trying to pry his hands away from her. He's far too powerful for her to even attempt. He wraps a rope around her teeth and drags her to his chariot. "Keep your head down," he warns, pushing her into the passenger seat."Aah," he says gently as he gets into the driver's seat. He buckles up his seatbelt and swaps gears. "Now we must be cautious because the sheriff may be looking for us." What is he taking her to? To a spot where she will be murdered and dumped? Graham, where are you when you need him?!She waits for the ultimate destination with a worried heart, hoping that someone would stop him.She raises her head in amazement. He led her into the center of the village. Mister Gold's shop, more particular. Why? Is he certain Mr. Gold is her father? Why does he believe that? Is it even possible? Certainly not! 

"Showtime," Jefferson says as he exits the automobile. Moira beeps suspiciously as "Jefferson" gets out. "Come on," he says, dragging her out of the car. Moira trembles in his hands, terrified. The sunshine aggravates her splitting headache. "No," she cries loudly enough for someone to hear her. "Come on, let's not play hard to get, Moira," he moans and pulls her forward. His powerful arm, wrapped in a cotton black shirt, snakes around her waist. As Jefferson shoves her into the store, the bell over their heads rings loudly. In anguish, she closes her eyes for a few seconds. Mr. Gold laughs as he glances up from his counter. "Jefferson," he scoffs, a cheeky grin on his face."You know, when they said you can come to me for all kinds of trafficking, they apparently forgot to say that human trafficking is just not one of them."Jefferson chuckles with delight. "Hello, dark one," he says. Gold, perplexed by the moniker, glances up at Jefferson. On the elderly man's face, a sinister smile curls. 

His clay-colored eyes sparkle with a golden gleam. He moves away from the glass counter, but comes to a halt when Jefferson puts his second arm around Moira's throat. "Ah-ah," Jefferson shouts, pressing the barrel of his gun on Moira's brow. Terrified, she tries to flee the weapon."Ssh," he softly whispers. He presses her onto his chest. A single tear drips from the corner of her eye. Gold snorts and chuckles. "What are you doing, Jefferson?" he scoffs calmly. "I know, dark one. " "I know you know," Gold answers quietly. "Would you like to explain?" "You're already aware of who we are. Who we truly are. What our roots are. That's correct, isn't it Rumpelstiltskin." Moira averts her gaze. Something has happened to Mr. Gold since Jefferson uttered his name. Something more sinister, something darker. Gold looks at them with amusement. "Well, then you should know it's incredibly stupid to show up at my doorstep with some girl, hoping to get coercion out of me." Jefferson laughs. "Not just any girl, dark one." She's your lady." Gold looks at the girl, puzzled. "From you, and from our majesty." His brilliant gaze is pierced by her fearful face. He keeps an eye on her. Because of this, he recognizes her. She appears to be a younger version of Regina. Jefferson was entirely accurate! Gold, on the other hand, cannot demonstrate this. He immediately looks up. "You don't have..." "Yes, dark one." You and the queen had a date.  Approximately eighteen years ago. "Well eighteen plus twenty-eight years ago?" Moira's cranium throbs strangely. What does he mean exactly? Was she really that old? They even didn't have a queen!"She never told you, what a shock," Jefferson cynically exclaims. Gold's lips curl into a sinister grin. "You're not going to hurt her in any way. If you wanted to, you could have done it, a long time ago." "Oh, but I haven't told you what I want yet," Jefferson grumbles. Rumple gives out a little laugh. "Oh?" he then asks. "For my grace, a memory potion. So we can finally spend time together. If you don't give that, I'll murder Moira in seven days," he jokes.

Moira is anxiously panicking. Jefferson grips her tightly. "As you can see, magic is a scarce commodity here." Otherwise, I would have squished you like an insect a long time ago." "Oh but I know you have some souvenirs dark one." "Do it or I'll kill your little girl." "And who says I don't murder your little girl first?" Rumple scoffs. "I don't think so," Jefferson says, sniffing. "And for the same reasons I'm still alive," Jefferson chuckles, dragging Moira back. "No," Moira begs. "Wait!" Rumple screams. "Ah-ah," Jefferson replies quickly, placing the rifle on Moira's brow. "I mean it," Jefferson adds. "You'll see her again in a week...once you've obtained the potion, of course." In the meanwhile..." Moira jerks under Jefferson's grasp. "I'm on my way to get you!" Don't be scared! Moira!" Rumple steps after them.

"Well," Jefferson replies, laughing, once they're back in the car. "I guess you're still stuck with me," he scoffs as he drives home. Moira leans back against the seat.