Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon A Time. ABC does.

A/N: First off, I must tell you all that this story was fully inspired by a most wonderful series. It is known as the Abridged Once Upon A Time series (it is a parody on LiveJournal), and it has been the best thing to pass the time between episodes lately. Seriously, if you have not read it yet, go do so now. It is amazing, hilarious, and the author, DaesGatling, has been incredible with it. (=

Just thought I'd throw that out there.

Now, this will (I hope) be a really fun fanfic to write. It's just for fun, really. Also to please the Gemma fans out there (I know you guys have had it hard since Belle came into the picture). This takes place directly after the 7th ep.

With that in mind….enjoy.

Sunshine and Rain

I'm dreaming of a white…wedding…

Ow, my head…How much did I drink last night? Trying to forget…Graham…Graham…

There was an irritating ache pounding behind Emma's eyes as she awoke from a deep, uneasy sleep. The sound of bells echoed through her skull.

She kept her eyes closed—it hurt too much. Definitely a hangover, though she's had worse before.

What happened last night? It was foggy, hard to remember…


Graham was dead.

Died right in her arms after first kissing her. How pitiful was that? The minute Emma allowed her walls to tumble down, the guy just…dies. And Emma vaguely recalls drowning her pain and guilt with alcohol.

The rest is a blur. She doesn't even remember leaving the diner. Or stumbling through the door. Or falling into bed. Was Mary Margaret even up yet? It was so quiet…

Emma shoved Graham from her mind—up went her walls. She yawned widely and stretched leisurely, her hands smoothing across the silk sheets and—

Wait. What?

Silk sheets?

Emma's bed didn't have silk sheets. So, then….where was she? Oh, God. Don't tell me I crashed somewhere else. Granny's inn, maybe? No, Granny can't afford silk sheets.

Green eyes shot open wide and she bolted upright in the bed, the sheets falling away. Not her bed, but someone's bed. With black silk sheets.

What the hell?

Emma scanned the room. She had never seen this room before. It was grand and large, like the room of a mansion. Light curtains fluttered as a gentle breeze flowed in through the window, the stream of sun filtering across the floor. The bed was massive, her body only spanning half of it. Her body…

Panicking, Emma stared down at her body and was relieved to find she was wearing clothing. Well, if you counted her red bra and panties as clothing. Oh, God…where am I? What did I do?

Slipping from the bed, Emma searched for her phone. There, on the bedside table. Snatching it up, she punched in Mary Margaret's phone number. It buzzed in her ear as Emma swept her blonde hair from her forehead.

Something gleamed in the sunlight. Sparkled, actually. Gold. There was an unfamiliar gold ring on her finger, set with an exquisite diamond.

Emma's stomach plummeted like a roller coaster as she stared at it. A gold ring…I had too much to drink last night. Did I really…? Oh, this can't get any worse. Please tell me I married Archie; at least being a psychologist he can calm me down.

Mary Margaret's sweet voice rose from the phone, but Emma's throat was dry. I have a ring on my finger! Why the hell do I have a ring on my finger?

Sense snapped into Emma as Mary Margaret's voice became insistent, almost frightened.

"Yeah, I'm here..." Emma managed, green eyes wandering about the room. This wasn't her place…so where was the owner?

"Where have you been? You didn't come home last night. I heard about Graham…" Mary Margaret's voice trailed off—she had been the one to suggest Emma's feelings for the sheriff. Late sheriff.

"Oh, trust me. I think I have bigger problems than Graham right now," she murmured, in case the owner heard she was awake. Emma crept across the floor to the door and edged it open.

The sound of sizzling was coming from downstairs, with the tantalizing smell of bacon. Mmm…wait. Emma, think. Focus. Ring on finger. Awaking in a stranger's bed…

"What? What other problems? Emma, what's going on?" Mary Margaret sounded how Emma felt right then: worried, confused, upset.

Emma crept back to the bed and gazed out the window. A normal street in Storybrooke. There was someone gardening across the street; otherwise, it was quiet and still. Not helpful.

"It's…it's hard to explain. I don't even remember what I did last night. But I woke up in someone else's bed with a…a ring! Mary, there is a ring on my finger," Emma blurted out, glaring at the beautiful golden ring. It must have cost a lot of money.

"A ring? Emma, you don't mean…"

"I don't know! Worst possible scenario….I got hitched," Emma collapsed on the edge of the bed, raking her fingers through her hair. She had never been the Vegas type unless she was chasing someone jumping bail. She'd been wasted a couple of times in her life, but never had she gotten married.

It was silent on the other end. Did Mary Margaret faint or something?

"To who? Emma—"

"I don't know! All I remember is Graham and now….now I'm lying in someone else's bed. Look, I think the owner is still here, so I'm going to figure this out. I'll be back soon," she assured the shaken Mary Margaret. Shaken? Join the club.

Click went her phone and Emma jumped up. The breeze gave her goose-bumps. Clothes! Where are my clothes? I swear, if I end up pregnant…won't Henry be overjoyed at the idea of a sibling? Someone else to bother me about fairy tales while I'm cleaning the house for my new husband. Husband…oh, God…

Emma swore under her breath as she retrieved her rumpled clothes from the floor. Jeans, tank top, boots, leather jacket. Check.

Okay, Emma. Now think. What happened last night?

Emma scrunched her nose in concentration. Okay, Graham died. Graham….okay, focus. You went to Granny's diner to drink and get rid of the pain. Drink…how many? Two, three…maybe four. Or more?

She faintly remembered tossing back the drinks and ordering Ruby to bring her another. The sound of bells was still echoing in her head. Bells...bells…the bell above the diner's door rang. Right.

Emma could see it now. The bell rang and someone else came in. She couldn't remember who the person was, but she was certain that was who she'd left with last night. That was who she'd…married, she groaned inwardly.

The bacon was calling her. Her stomach growled. That was where the owner was. Please let it be Archie. For God's sake, let it be Dr. Whale or a stranger. At least it wouldn't be the worst option in the world.

As a last thought, Emma found the gun she concealed in her leather jacket and aimed it in front of her. What if whoever it was meant her harm? Had taken advantage of her? It made her skin crawl.

Carefully, Emma. Quiet. Emma slowly descended the stairs to the first level. The front door was right there, closed. It had a stained glass window, the sunlight transformed into rainbows across the floor.

She could leave right now…but she really wanted to know whose house—whose bed—she had woken up in. It could be anyone in Storybrooke. Please let it be Archie. Please let it be Archie.

Still, this house was way too nice for Archie. It was more suited for…

Emma suddenly realized she knew the answer she was seeking. Her heart hammered in her chest and her stomach twisted at the sickening thought. God, if you're listening, prove me wrong. Please, don't let me be married to…

Emma padded down the hallway and ducked into the kitchen, her gun pointed in front of her. Her feet froze and her worst nightmares came true.

He was standing there, frying pan in hand, bacon sizzling, business suit protected by an apron. Brown eyes, cane leaning against the table. Emma was going to be sick any moment.

"Hiiii, Emma," he drawled, glancing over his shoulder. "I decided it'd be best to let you sleep. Please, are you going to shoot me in my own home?" Emma hesitantly lowered the gun, words stuck in her throat. Silk sheets…the gold ring on her finger….married…

"Although, come to think of it…it's actually our home, now," he corrected, smirking at her as she lingered in the doorway. "Would you care for some breakfast, dear?"

Emma's mind was stunned beyond belief. The gold ring, married…married to…oh, I was wrong. This just got a helluva lot worse.

The person she was supposedly married to…was Mr. Gold.

Hehe, this is amusing, no? I'm sure Gemma fans will be pleased. It wouldn't quit bugging my brain.

Also, fun fact: the title came from a song I listened to while writing this first chapter. It's "Hate and Love" by Jack Savoretti and it is a very good song.

Once more, I credit my inspiration to the wonderful DaesGatling's Abridged Once Upon A Time series, which can be found on LJ under the same name. Check it out because it is hilarious and brilliant—and that is an understatement.

By the way, DaesGatling (if you're reading this), I could not resist adding in the "Hiiiii, Emma." (-; You know, I never really noticed how much he leers at her in the show until that abridged series. Interesting.

Just for the record, I've been doing a lot of one-shots for OUAT lately, in case anyone would like to check those out as well.

All reviews are greatly loved! Sorry for the long note.