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Ignorance is Bliss	By : Khaleesi-Of-Dragons Category: M through R > Once Upon A Time Views: 2313 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. Any and all songs used belong to their respective owners.

Chapter List
- 1-Ignorance is Bliss
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-Season Two: Knowledge is Power
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-17
- 18-18
- 19-19
- 20-20
- 21-21
- 22-22
- 23-23
- 24-24
- 25-25
- 26-26
- 27-27
- 28-28
- 29-29
- 30-30
- 31-31
- 32-32
- 33-Season Three: All Good Things
- 34-34
- 35-35
- 36-36
- 37-37
- 38-38
- 39-39
- 40-40
- 41-41
- 42-42
- 43-43
- 44-44
- 45-45
- 46-46
- 47-47
- 48-48
- 49-49
- 50-50
- 51-51
- 52-52
- 53-53
- 54-54
- 55-55
- 56-56
- 57-57
- 58-Season Four: To Those who Wait
- 59-59
- 60-60
- 61-61
- 62-62
- 63-63
- 64-64
- 65-65
- 66-66
- 67-67
- 68-68
- 69-69
- 70-70
- 71-71
- 72-72
- 73-73
- 74-74
- 75-75
- 76-76
- 77-77
- 78-78
- 79-80
- 80-81
- 81-82
- 57
- 58
- 59
This chap takes place the day after the Rumbelle wedding, but before they discover that Elsa's in town. The song Morgan sings is Run by Katharine McPhee
"We're under attack," I hear Leroy shout seconds before I see him and Sleepy running around a corner and over to where my dad and Emma are standing across the street," we're under attack!" Pan and I share a long look, my frustration winning out over my curiosity in the end. There's no way I'm getting involved in another catastrophe until my papa and Belle return from their honeymoon.
"Uh-uh," I say, shaking my head and pulling open the theater door," this ain't my problem until I'm attacked directly."
"My thoughts exactly," Pan agrees, walking in after me. The theater is one of the older buildings in town, the ceilings high with crystal chandeliers wired for electricity, the wooden walls painted with different scenes from old plays like Romeo and Juliet and Hamlet, and the folding seats were wood with red velvet padding to make them more comfortable. Stairs ran between the aisles, leading up to the second level balcony and the different boxes there meant to make people feel like they were at an old fashioned opera house when they rented one.
Papa had box three reserved permanently in case something was being performed that we both liked or I was doing some small role in the play—it was one of the best boxes since it was just the right distance from the stage that everything came across well and the sound carried better. Near the front towards the stage, a small folding table had been set up and there were three chairs behind it, two of them occupied by the two people I hate most in this world: Mister and Mrs. Bryland. Fantastic. "What are you doing here, Miss Gold," Mister Bryland asks.
"Gee, I don't know, what do normal people come here for when they're not buying a seat," I ask sarcastically. "Don't get your panties in a twist, you only have to deal with me if I get a part." The owner of the theater, Micah Blaine, walks in from the back rooms where everything was stored, a lazy smile on his face when he spots me.
"Miss Gold," he greets in his usual low tone, brushing some of his shaggy reddish-brown hair out of his eyes. "About time you decided to show up and leave the ghost busting to the older people."
"I see you haven't changed much, Micah." He scoffs dramatically, throwing himself down in the third seat and propping his boots up on the table. He's barely twenty-three, but he already owns one of the few buildings that my papa doesn't have a share in, and he always like to dress in what he calls hobo chic. His boots were unlaced and dirty, his jeans looking like they've seen better days, and his ACDC tee was torn near the collar with an old coffee stain down the front.
"Change is for the people who can't avoid it, sweetie pie. Now, get up there and shake your ass for me."
"Wouldn't you rather see my boyfriend shaking his ass," I ask as I climb up onto the stage, sitting on the edge with my feet dangling in the air. Micah's critical gaze slides over Pan with slight interest, hazel eyes narrowing a fraction before they turn back on me.
"Nah, he's too skinny and Nicky gets jealous. Ain't that right, babe." The last sentence is louder than usual so his boyfriend could hear him in the back.
"You're damn skippy," Nick returns without looking up from the prop he was painting. "Show those two stiffs what you're made of, Mo-mo." I give him a smile in thanks, using magic to make the music start, but no lyrics like there would be if I was using an iPod. After a deep breath, I stand and begin to dance in a way I never had before—to my credit, I didn't look like I was trying to do the Drunken Giraffe this time.
"I'll sing it one last time for you," I sing, voice projecting despite my soft tone that the song requires," and we really have to go. You've been the only thing that's right in all I've done and I can barely look at you, but every single time I do, I know we'll make it anywhere away from here. Light up, light up as if you have a choice. Even if you cannot hear my voice, I'll be right beside you, dear. Louder, louder and we'll run for our lives. I can hardly speak—I understand why you can't raise your voice to say, to think I might not see those eyes, makes it so hard not to cry."
I have to pause every now and then, both for breath and to let the actual music be heard before continuing with the lyrics. "And as we say our goodbyes, I nearly do. Light up, light up as if you have a choice. Even if you cannot hear my voice, I'll be right beside you, dear. Louder, louder and we'll run for our lives. I can hardly speak—I understand why you can't raise your voice to say light up, light up even if you cannot hear your voice, I'll be right beside you, dear."
Micah claps slowly, eyelids drooping low as they always were—always making him seem unsurprised at everything. You could tell him that George Clooney had showed up to perform an excerpt from Ocean's Eleven and his expression wouldn't change. His naturally laid back nature is one of the things I love most about him. "Not bad, Morgan. Isn't that right, Sheeple?" That was his term for the ordinary citizens that he didn't like, people he thought would mindlessly follow orders without the slightest question about why they should. The Brylands grumble quietly to themselves, knowing their opinions didn't actually matter since it's Micah that makes the final decisions at the end of the day.
"Well, if you decide to let me in on it, call my cell." I hop down, walking over to Micah and giving the older man a tight hug. I'm not sure who he was in the other world, but I'd bet my right shoe that he was someone of importance. "Until then, I heard Grumpy yelling about being attacked just before I came in here, so I guess that means I should run back to my house and watch Netflix till Papa returns.
"Watch M.A.S.H. for me while I'm stuck in this hellhole with these two half-wits." The twin looks he gets from the Brylands only make his smile widen a fraction. "You know the old saying—those who can't do, teach."
"Yeah, you guys have fun. Nicky, if you need money to bail Micah out of jail any time soon, let me know!"
"You got it, Kiddo," Nicky grins, setting aside his prop and moving on to another. He's Micah's complete opposite, more surfer boy type than artsy fartsy with longish blonde hair, warm brown eyes, and tan skin. He's broad-shouldered and strong, while Micah's skinny and pale; both smoke weed in their spare time, so that's one thing they have in common, at least. While Micah owns the theater, Nicky is the only reason he hasn't sold it to my papa—Micah being more interested in football and hockey, which is funny considering he doesn't look like he could fight his way out of a paper bag.
"I take it you're close with those two," Pan laughs as we walk outside, pulling his beanie down over the tips of his ears.
"Oh yeah, Micah was my bodyguard when I used to go clubbing."
"He doesn't look like he could beat a curtain, let alone an actual person."
"You say that now, but you've never seen that man when there's a sale at the boutique on South Street and someone has the last of the Gucci purses. He's downright terrifying and that poor lady didn't stand a chance."

"So what do you think's happening in town," Pan asks, both of us reclined on the couch with Netflix up on the flat screen.
"Who cares," I respond, munching on popcorn as Radar O'Reilly runs around the M.A.S.H. camp with different pieces of a jeep he was sending home. "It's not nearly as interesting as this." He nods, taking some popcorn.
"Good evening, beautiful," Daddy says as he walks in the living room and placing a kiss on the top of my head just before he works his way between Pan and me on the couch. "How'd your audition go?"
"She was fantastic," Pan tells him, holding out the bowl of popcorn. We're both to never snuggling when an adult is around at this point.
"I have no doubt about that, she is my daughter."
"Yeah, and your singing sounds like a dying cat," I joke, smiling up at my father. "Ah, my strange little family."
The rest of the night is just the three of us—eating Mickey D's and watching movies. It's nice to finally be able to relax instead of running around like chickens with our heads cut off, but I wish Papa could be here to enjoy the downtime. I'll catch when his honeymoon is over, he and I can call a lazy day and spend the entire day in our jammies, snacking on unhealthy food, and watching Disney movies like we used to before the curse was broken. With a smile, I realize Stitch was right as I snuggle closer to my daddy, his arm wrapped securely around my shoulders.
This is my family, I found it all on my own. It's little and it's broken, but it's still good—yeah, still good.
- 57
- 58
- 59
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Ignorance is Bliss