A/N: Oh wow, I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get back here! RL got crazy for a while and then the next scene was taking a while anyway, to keep everything in character and moving along, so I apologize for the long delays. Only one more chapter left to go after this, though, so I hope to have it wrapped up next week! Thanks to everyone who's still with me!
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Chapter 4: Science And Magic (Part 2)
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Lois had been in binds before. She’d been tied up by every kind of thug on the planet, put into precarious positions by several different masterminds, manhandled by guards and soldiers and police officers of every sort, but she had never, during all those times of danger, felt as vulnerable and helpless as she did now.
Mr. Gold--Rumplestiltskin, if Clark was to be believed, and right now, Lois was having an incredibly hard time *not* believing in fairytales and magic--had simply waved his hand and Lois had gone spinning. She’d seen Superman perform extraordinary feats, including hurling criminals back a safe distance away with merely his super-breath, but this…this was something else. Gold had waved his hand, red smoke had blinded Lois, and then she found herself on the floor. And she couldn’t move.
There were no knots, no ties, no frayed edges of a rope. There weren’t any weak links or broken chains or rusted locks. There was just…smoke. Red smoke. Red smoke that changed to black and curled around Mr. Gold’s hands like a pet begging to be released.
Lois twisted and writhed on the wooden floor, her legs banging against glass counters filled to the brim with dusty junk, but the…smoke…didn’t give at all. Her arms were bound to her sides, her legs encased side by side, and she couldn’t maneuver her way to her feet no matter how hard she tried. She let out a low growl of frustration and squirmed again until she was facing Clark.
Only one problem--Mr. Gold stood between them. His back was to Lois, but there was nothing she could do to attack him or leap on him or distract him in any way. He didn’t spare her even a glance as he advanced, slowly, one halting step after another, on Clark. Lois didn’t need to see his eyes to know that he was furious and dangerous and intent only on Clark and the woman Clark held in his arms.
Not that Lois was jealous or anything, but Clark was holding Belle awfully tight, and she definitely lived up to her namesake--not that Lois really believed she was supposed to be the beauty from the fairytale, of course, because that would be ridiculous. But she was beautiful, and Clark was holding her pressed up against him, and Lois had seen him do worse with other women--Mayson came immediately to mind, no matter that the assistant DA had been dead for several months now--but she herself was flat on the floor, trussed up like a goose waiting for Christmas dinner, and--
Forcefully, Lois made herself stop and take a deep breath. It was one thing to babble aloud, quite another to do it in her own mind. She was a professional and she was sure she had been in worse situations than this, so she wouldn’t panic. She’d be calm and rational and she would find a way to escape this…this *smoke*…if it was the last thing she did!
“Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” Mr. Gold asked, stepping sideways so that Lois could just barely catch his expression, and something in his voice made a shiver run down Lois’s spine. Or maybe it was just the way the magical smoke was tightening around her wrists, her elbows, her legs, a glowing shimmer that was about as possible as a man who’d fallen from a sixty-story building showing up again to finish trying to ruin Lois’s life and her burgeoning relationship with Clark, or lights that could implant information in her brain when shone into her eyes, or a cyborg powered by Kryptonite, or a man who could fly.
Actually, Lois considered, this all wasn’t nearly as far-fetched as it probably should have been.
“I know enough to be wary of a man capable of reattaching a severed arm with only a wave of his hand, as if it means nothing,” Clark said. Lois could tell he was guessing, but Mr. Gold’s lips twitched, a minute expression that read like a smile on his sharp features.
“Oh, very good,” he said with a casual arch of his brows--completely belied by the sheer desperation broiling in his eyes when he looked at Belle. “You only got two details wrong--you’re mistaking a monster for a man, and no one ever gets anything for nothing.”
“Rumple,” Belle said, softly, almost reprovingly.
Clark’s hands flexed around Belle’s arms, holding her back-to-chest against him, but Lois knew him well enough to see the fear and the uncertainty lurking behind his glasses. And strangely--since none of these townsfolk seemed to know anything about Superman, and since she was apparently used to a cold-blooded player like Mr. Gold--Belle didn’t look afraid at all. Lois tried not to think about that maybe being because she had no doubt that Mr. Gold could save her.
“That sounds,” the man who might or might not be Rumplestiltskin said very slowly, “like you’re proposing a deal.”
“Yes,” Belle interjected, staring at Gold intently. “A deal--deals are good, right, Rumple?”
Lois wanted to say something about the ridiculousness of Belle from Beauty and the Beast calling Rumplestiltskin by such an absurd nickname, but the situation seemed a bit too tense for humor to be appreciated, and anyway, she thought, with a name like Rumplestiltskin, there weren’t many *good* nicknames. So instead, she worked her way to a nearby counter and wedged herself up into a seated position, then tried very hard to wriggle out of magical smoke--which was about as impossible to do as it sounded.
“I don’t make deals with Belle’s life,” Gold said quietly, somberly. “Not anymore.”
Belle stared at Mr. Gold, mouth parted, eyes gleaming with silver light.
“What about Lois?” Clark demanded.
“Oh, she’s unharmed. For now.” Gold darted a glance to her, a cold smile reshaping his mouth.
“Then let her go,” Clark said, or rather, *Superman* said, his voice hard and grim. Lois stared at him, standing there in his suit and tie, his glasses dulling the color, the spark, of his eyes ever so slightly, changing the shape of his face, aided by the lock of dark hair falling over his brow. Clark Kent, the one person who’d befriended her no matter how she pushed him away. The partner who’d been there for her every time she needed him. The ordinary man she’d fallen in love with and chosen over her beloved superhero. But right now, he was more hero than man, his jaw set, his eyes fixed, his muscles rigid as he formulated a threat he might actually be able to carry through.
Superman, even while he was Clark.
She still wasn’t used to them being one and the same, but looking at him now, she thought, suddenly, that it wasn’t that hard to get used to, after all.
“Let Lois go,” he ordered, “or I’ll take Belle somewhere you can’t find her. Somewhere you can’t reach her.”
“Will you?” Mr. Gold hissed, and he let out a laugh without smiling, a laugh caught between scoffing and irony. “What a twist--turns out the evil Queen and the superhero have the same methods.”
“Hey!” Lois began to protest, hotly, when their time abruptly ran out.
“I’m done with this,” Mr. Gold decided. And he reached out a hand and made a quick, graceful flourish in the air.
Lois let out a garbled, frantic exclamation, trying and failing to leap to her feet.
There was a surge of violet and crimson, dancing outward from long fingers. Clark tensed--Lois thought he was caught between standing as he was, or moving to protect Belle with his own body--and then Lois blinked and Clark was standing behind her, near the rear of the shop, shimmering magic binding him still, and Belle was staggering forward and Gold was gathering her into his shaking arms.
It was scary and unexpected and disorienting, but Lois had followed and reported on Superman for two years, written more articles on him than even Clark had--and fast as that magical smoke had been, Superman was faster. Lois had no doubt that he could have avoided it, could have gotten out of the way--whether he could have done so safely with *Belle* was another question--but for whatever reason, Clark was letting Mr. Gold think he had the upper hand.
Maybe he thought he could lure the sorcerer into a false sense of complacency, or maybe he’d wanted to try to get closer to Lois. But Lois had a bad feeling about this. Superman was invulnerable, yes, but he was susceptible at least to hypnosis, and obviously--judging from the fact that Mr. Gold had been able to move and capture him--he was also vulnerable to some forms of magic. So maybe it’d been a bad idea to give up their bargaining chip.
But then Lois looked back to Belle, clinging to Mr. Gold, and Mr. Gold’s eyes falling shut as he dropped a kiss into the girl’s hair, and she remembered Belle’s kindness, her admission that she loved Mr. Gold, the way she’d tensed as if expecting to be criticized for that love, and Lois realized that Clark had made the right choice. He’d made the only choice that Superman could without becoming someone as bad as whoever the evil Queen was.
More than that, he’d made the only choice that Clark Kent--farmboy from Smallville, naïve world traveler, devoted son, steadfast friend, and good man--could ever make. He wasn’t a killer and even trying to use Belle as a bargaining chip had probably made him uncomfortable.
So they would confront this problem as they always did--together, side by side, and improvising every step of the way.
“Let me up,” Lois demanded. As much as she wanted to rant and rave, to threaten and pace, she spoke quietly, calmly; she thought that Mr. Gold didn’t react well except to an argument given rationally and clearly. Or maybe he just liked toying with his prey. Either way, she wanted to face it on her feet.
“It’s all right,” Belle murmured as Mr. Gold studied Lois, making her feel like a subject under a microscope.
“Very well.” The slight man gave a negligible wave and Lois was suddenly standing on her feet. Her arms were still trapped at her sides, her legs still bound together, but at least she wasn’t helpless on the floor.
“You make deals,” Clark said, drawing the attention his way. Lois wondered if he’d been able to test the strength of their magical bonds while she’d been distracting the other two. “I think we can make a deal here.”
“Oh, do you?” Mr. Gold sneered. He was fierce and derisive, but Lois could see the way he kept his shoulder between them and Belle, noticed him give a slight reassuring squeeze to Belle’s hand, clinging to his elbow. There was more here than there appeared to be. Clark was looking at this Mr. Gold, this Rumplestiltskin, as if he were another Lex, but Lois wasn’t sure the comparison was a good one. Lex had been deceptive, but once you got past the lies, he was fairly straightforward--greed, lust for power, arrogance, envy. Whatever good had once been in him had been scoured away, seared to ash by blinding ambition and overriding obsession.
But Mr. Gold had layers. It was apparent in the wordplays, in the woman at his side, in the open tenderness he’d shown when Belle hugged him after admitting she’d been locked up. There was more than ambition in dark eyes, more than arrogance in the way he stood to protect Belle and his tiny, hidden shop. Lex thought he loved Lois, but he would never have shown such blatant fear for her safety, never listened if she asked him to stop what he wanted to do, what his ambition demanded of him.
“Not Lex,” she murmured at a volume only Clark would be able to hear.
He flicked his eyes to her, then looked back to Mr. Gold.
“A deal can only be made between two interested parties,” Mr. Gold said evenly, his accented voice cadenced to a rhythm that would have rung odd in the normal world but that fit their surroundings perfectly. “What could *you* have that I’d want?”
“Our silence,” Lois asserted. “You don’t want your town overrun by the outside world. We want to leave town intact.”
“As well as your own silence,” Clark added, “about Superman.”
“Sounds like two deals to me,” Gold commented with an affected shrug. “Our silence in exchange for yours, and your lives in exchange for…what, exactly? If I have no reason to spare you, then I don’t have to worry about making any deal about silence. You’d be silenced either way.”
“There is something we can give you in exchange for your lives,” Clark said, and Lois was glad to hear it, because she was coming up with a blank herself--well, aside from a lecture on the sanctity of life and the evilness involved in casually discussing murder and the biting remark that perhaps he wasn’t so far removed from Lex after all. But Clark was calm, in control, every bit Superman no matter that he looked exactly like Clark. She tried to edge over to him, just a bit, but her magical bindings didn’t give at all and she stopped trying before she overbalanced and fell.
Gold cocked his head, Belle peering over his shoulder. “And what’s that?” Strangely, he sounded intrigued, as if the prospect of an interesting deal were more fascinating than anything else currently happening.
“Your lives in return,” Clark replied, and his eyes glowed with red heat, twin beams of scarlet fire that reaped a trail of destruction down the center of the pawnshop floor. Glass shattered and flew outward, but a gust of Clark’s breath kept it all safely away from Lois, and when she managed a look up through squinted eyes and windblown hair, she saw a blue shimmer standing like a sphere around Gold and Belle, protecting them from the sparkling shards of glass scattering through the room, the sparks flying upward from gouges in the wooden floors, the old junk--busted up lanterns and beer steins with dwarf illustrations and a glass mobile of unicorns and a hundred other objects Lois couldn’t make out--swirling about in a miniature hurricane caused by the man standing in its center.
Superman.
His arms were still bound at his sides, muscles clenched tight, hands balled into fists, and his glasses had disappeared somewhere, but he stood there, straight and tall and so powerful that Lois gaped for a moment before she reminded herself that she had seen this same man being chastised by his diminutive mother.
Clark was bound, but nothing had bound him to the ground, and as easily as he ever did, he defied gravity, rose to hover in the air. His eyes still glowed with inhuman heat and only the fact that he kept up a semi-steady gust of air between Lois and the flying wreckage ensured that the tiny, close shop didn’t shoot up to uncomfortable temperatures. Lois wanted to shrink in on herself, but that would mean she’d have to tear her eyes away from the sight of Gold standing upright, hands loosely placed on his cane, his eyes tight, Belle staring about with an expression similar to Lois’s own, and all that separated them from Superman was a transparent blue wall.
It was a stand-off that well could have lasted far too long--Clark couldn’t grab hold of Lois and fly them both to safety, not with his arms still trapped at his sides--but one tiny thing broke it almost before it could begin.
Amidst the hundreds of items that had graced the counters and shelves, among the hundreds of thousands of shards of glass flying in all directions and leaving furrows in the walls and threatening to shatter the windows in the doors, one object caught Gold’s attention. He was cold and implacable and untouchable, impervious to the damage being done to his shop, but then his eyes latched onto something flying toward a wall--something small. Something white. Something fragile.
Abruptly, the wall flickered, shimmered with silver light, and Gold reached out a hand toward whatever the small, curved object was.
Clark was there first. He darted forward, hovering a scant few inches above the cluttered floor, and lifted high enough to grab the object out of the air, pluck it from Gold’s reach before the older man--or whatever he was--could touch a finger to it.
Belle let out a tiny sound, or Lois assumed she did from the way she started forward, stopped only by Gold’s quick, restraining hand. The rush of wind, the hum in Lois’s ears from fire burning through the air, the clatter of junk and debris and glass pelting against various surfaces--it all went silent immediately as everything still in the air dropped to the air, as the sparks went out and Clark’s eyes returned to their silvery brown and he closed his lips over whatever super-breath remained to him.
“New deal,” he proposed, his voice cutting through the quiet like diamonds through steel. His long fingers completely encapsulated the small white…teacup? Lois frowned, but sure enough, it was a teacup in his hands, white with a few gold and blue accents along the edging. “You agree to two deals with us, and I *don’t* break this cup.”
Gold’s--Rumplestiltskin’s, really, however that worked, but it was easier to think of him as Mr. Gold, an ordinary human that was dangerous but still defeatable--eyes narrowed, his mouth pursed. “What makes you think I care about the cup?” he asked, and gave no sign to acknowledge Belle’s worried look up at him.
Clark pointedly looked about at their demolished surroundings. “Because the rest of the shop’s in shambles, and yet the cup’s the only thing you tried to save.”
There was a long moment during which Gold said nothing, and Lois found breathing difficult. Finally, though, he gave a twitch of his lips that should, by definition, have been a smile but very obviously wasn’t. “Fine. You give me the cup, and I agree to negotiate two deals with you and your partner.”
“And make them,” Lois interjected quickly. “Not just negotiate them--you have to make them.”
“And make them,” he parroted back, maybe a bit too easily. Someone was confident in their deal-making abilities, Lois thought wryly, and yet the Rumplestiltskin from the fairytale hadn’t exactly come out on top for all the deals he made. Of course, she realized with a darted glance to Belle, watching the proceedings with bright, interested eyes, the Rumplestiltskin from the fairytale wasn’t the beast who’d won a beauty’s heart either.
“Unbind us first,” Clark ordered, fingers flexing around the cup.
“Hand over the cup first,” Gold countered. Lois wanted very badly to know what was so special about the little teacup--particularly when there were about three or four tea sets worth of cups strewn across the floor--but for the moment, she was just glad to have leverage over the powerful…magician? Sorcerer? Well, whatever he was.
“No.” Clark’s jaw was set, his eyes flinty hard, undimmed by his glasses. “Let us free first.” When Gold still hesitated, Clark added in a steely voice, “You were right when you said I don’t like risking people getting hurt--but I think it fair to warn you that I don’t have *any* problem with shattering cups. So…let us out of these bindings first.”
“How about simultaneously?” Gold said acerbically, and he waved his hand in the way Lois was really beginning to hate.
She stumbled, windmilling her arms to keep her balance as she was abruptly freed, the smoke vanished into thin air. Clark settled to the junk-strewn floor, but his brow was creased as he looked down at his now-empty hand, leaving Lois wondering uneasily if Gold had intentionally let them think he couldn’t get the cup himself, if he had only just summoned up the spell necessary to transport the cup away, or if Clark was still playing weaker than he really was.
Regardless, the cup was now cradled safely in Belle’s hands, and now Lois could see that the teacup had a tiny chip missing from its rim. Stranger and stranger, she thought, her mind racing with possibilities.
But there was no time to consider it, so she shook aside the oddity and moved quickly to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Clark. She could feel him fractionally relax at the touch.
“Now the deals,” Rumplestiltskin--it was getting harder and harder to think of him as Mr. Gold--said, and in direct contrast to his earlier purring growl, he now sounded brisk and businesslike.
“Yes,” Clark said slowly, clearly considering each word before he spoke, something Lois could only deem wise considering the obvious cleverness of who they were up against. She felt a little as she had when up against Arianna Carlin--two steps behind and in the middle of something that could only be considered crazy.
Clark straightened when Lois gave him a short nod, his voice once more firming. “You agree to allow us to go back home, unharmed and unthreatened, *safely*, along with everything we brought with us. In return, we agree--”
“The town line,” Gold interrupted.
“What?” Lois scowled at him, sure he was already trying to wriggle in some loophole. That was what he was known for, wasn’t it? Or…no, actually, it had been the miller’s daughter he made the deal with who’d looked for a loophole--but that was beside the point. The point was she was sure Rumplestiltskin didn’t really want them leaving town so easily, not after having maybe-almost-sort-of bested him.
“*I* can’t guarantee your safety all the way to Metropolis,” Gold said fastidiously. “I *personally* can only guarantee it in Storybrooke, so if I were to promise you safety all the way to ‘your home,’ I’d have no way to hold up my end of the deal. Therefore, the deal can *only* include your safety until you cross the town line--unharmed, unmolested, and with all your belongings, of course.”
“Oh.” Lois exchanged a surprised, somewhat alarmed look with Clark, because if Gold was this careful about the details, they’d have to be even more alert than they’d thought. But also because, Lois thought, she hadn’t really expected Rumplestiltskin to be so uptight about what he could or couldn’t do for them, or to clarify his position.
“All right,” Clark said, clearing his throat. “And in return, we agree to leave town without harming any of its inhabitants--including you or Belle--or damaging your teacup. Agreed?”
“No,” Gold said calmly, unequivocally.
“No?” Clark’s confidence slipped a bit, revealing his fear. Which meant, Lois thought with a sinking feeling, that he *wasn’t* completely sure he could manage to get her and himself safely out of Rumplestiltskin’s clutches.
“You must agree not to harm Belle or I--and all of our belongings--*forever*.”
“Forever,” Lois repeated dubiously.
“Well, with your speed, Mr. Kent,” Gold lifted his left hand to gesture to Clark, “all you’d have to do to fulfill the terms of the bargain would be to zip yourself and Ms. Lane across the town line. You’d then, under the terms of *your* proposed deal, be able to return here, with a clear conscience, and threaten us as much as you like. So, the deal must state that you agree to leave us unharmed *forever*.”
“What about you?” Lois challenged, unable to resist taking a confrontational step forward. “You could come after us as soon as we cross the town line--and then, if we agree to your deal, we wouldn’t be able to fight back or harm you in any way.”
Gold took a deep breath, his eyes somewhere carefully between Lois and Clark, and Belle wordlessly slipped her hand into his, still holding the chipped teacup with her other hand. “We can’t cross the town line,” the pawnbroker admitted quietly, the sarcasm lading his tone little more than an afterthought. “Storybrooke is our prison. So, unless you choose to come back into town after leaving, there won’t be many opportunities for me to direct any threats your way.”
Lois and Clark exchanged another look; she could tell he wanted to agree to the deal.
“You’d better hurry,” Rumplestiltskin advised them, his momentary fragility banished when he shifted his weight. “I don’t usually make counter offers. A deal is a deal and I’ve given you my offer--our earlier agreement said only ‘two deals’; what those deals were to be about wasn’t clearly specified. My patience is dwindling and your bargaining chips aren’t as firmly in your hold as they were moments ago.”
Lois knew they had no choice, and it wasn’t like she was ever coming anywhere near this strange town again after she managed to get out of it, so she nodded, and Clark said, “Fine. It’s a deal.”
“Excellent.” Gold made that smile that wasn’t a smile again. “Now, the second deal: you never tell another soul about Storybrooke, its inhabitants, or anything connected to it, and I refrain from telling anyone else about the truth behind Superman.”
Lois felt Clark shift behind her, looked up to see him nod toward Rumplestiltskin’s companion. “What about Belle?”
Gold paused. Lois was expecting him to sigh and shrug and agree that she was part of their deal, but instead he looked down at Belle, stepped aside to let her move forward, and he softly asked, “Belle?”
The young woman frowned and darted a glance up to Rumplestiltskin, then shrugged with a small, pretty smile. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about Superman, or this world.” She looked at Clark, tilted her head as if to see him better from a different angle. “You use these magical abilities of yours to help people?”
“He does,” Lois asserted firmly. She could feel Clark’s gaze on her, but she focused her attention on Belle, on her blatant curiosity and understanding gaze. “Superman is a symbol, a man who does what others can’t, who saves those who would be lost otherwise. He’s hope for all of us, showing us what we should be doing, what we *could* be doing. He’s more powerful than we could ever hope to be, but he takes those powers and he uses them to fight for truth and justice. But the thing of it is…” And she had to pause because Clark was still watching her and she knew without even looking what his expression was--that part-proud, part-awed, and part-envious expression--and for once, for all time, she wanted to wipe that expression from his face. She didn’t want him to be envious of his alter ego or to feel as if he had to split himself into parts for *her*. She wanted him to know, without a doubt, that she loved him.
So she let out the smile fighting to get free and she said, “The thing is that Superman can’t be those things or help anyone or give us hope--not unless he can be Clark, because Clark’s the one who gives Superman that hope and he’s the one who lives out truth and justice every moment of every day. Without Clark, there can’t be a Superman, so he has to keep that part of himself a secret. If he didn't have that protection, he’d be too much of a target, too vulnerable through the people Clark Kent loves, so he hides behind glasses or a cape--he hides so that he can keep saving people and he doesn’t have to leave behind his loved ones.”
She’d known all these things--of course she had, she wasn’t stupid--but here, in this moment, they were *real*. They were right and important and so very true that she wondered that she hadn’t seen and understood before, but she was almost glad she hadn’t, because this way…this way she got to say them out loud and see Clark’s awed, wonderstruck expression firsthand.
Belle gave her own sidelong look to Rumplestiltskin--who looked as if he only just barely refraining from rolling his eyes--and she had her own smile on her lips. “I understand,” she said. “And you have my word that I will not betray your secret--a promise that’s *not* contingent on this deal,” she added.
Lois managed to tear her gaze away from Clark’s burgeoning smile; she glanced at Gold and was surprised that instead of irritation at his companion’s words, he almost looked…proud. He wasn’t smiling, not exactly, but he looked as if he *could* smile now, and that was probably just as good as a real smile from him, Lois figured.
But the instant was gone almost as soon as it began, and he was once more composed and brisk. “So,” he said, “I agree not to tell your secret, and you--”
“Rumple,” Belle interrupted, a warning tone silvering her voice.
He met her gaze, and then he did roll his eyes and sigh. “Fine. I agree not to tell *or* relay through any other means the secret behind Superman and Clark Kent, as well as Lois Lane. Happy?”
Belle’s satisfied smile indicated that she was, and Rumplestiltskin turned back to Lois and Clark, his eyebrow raised expectantly.
“And we agree the same about Storybrooke,” Clark said. Lois purposely kept quiet, hoping to fade into the background. “So it’s a deal?”
Rumplestiltskin narrowed his eyes, then gave a minute nod. “Deal.”
“Deal,” Clark repeated. Lois was hoping they could leave then, as soon as possible--before anyone realized that *she* hadn’t agreed to this second deal--but Gold looked straight at her, his eyes gleaming with mischievous humor, as if he could hear her thoughts.
“Ms. Lane?” he asked politely.
Whatever the explanation behind it, Storybrooke was a *huge* story, a big deal that would be sure to garner tons of attention. She could definitely win the Pulitzer for uncovering something of this magnitude--magic and fairytale characters and regenerating arms and a man who could bind Superman with a wave of his hand--and it was hard to even *consider* giving up this opportunity.
But Clark was staring down at her, and he was a big secret too, one she’d been keeping in one way or another for over a year. He--Clark Kent, the man from Kansas who still called or flew home to his parents at least once a week and was there for her every time she needed him--was worth protecting, worth the lies and the secrets and the silence in place of prize-winning articles. *He* was worth it--and for whatever reason, he was identifying very strongly with this town.
So she met his gaze, and she smiled at him, and she said, “Deal.”
Because he was one secret she didn’t regret.
***
