Mr. Gold swore aloud as his cane slipped over a cone hiding beneath the foliage, and he barely managed to catch himself in time. Mumbling in annoyance, he regained his precious balance, kicked the cone away angrily with his good foot, and then gloomily proceeded forward, this time taking better care of avoiding stepping on any leaves.
Taking a walk was not his ideal form of recreation, but he did not anticipate just how very taxing it would turn out to be.
By now, and he has not been walking longer than half an hour, he was all sweaty and flushed, annoyed by all measure by the lack of a place to sit on and his poor thinking that made him forgone taking any water or more walk-in-the-woods suited clothing. Frustration at its peak, he was about to turn around and head back home, when suddenly a piercing shriek echoed among the trees. He almost dropped the cane as panic clutched him, birds nearby making more racket as startled they flew from the trees in a flurry, but as soon as all the noise started, it was once again quiet. Letting out a shaky breath, Gold glanced around himself with acute, although wide, eyes.
The silence now seemed eerie, and for a moment he just stood there, feeling like something could jump at him at any second. When that didn't happen, his heart finally started to slow down, and his brain kicked in again. Was it a woman's scream he heard? Could someone be in trouble, needing help? As soon as he thought that, he knew what he had to do next, and so, gripping his cane tightly, he made a careful way in the direction where he thought the shriek had come from.
Panic's clutches reached for him again though, the more steps he made. What if someone got attacked by a bear or a wolf? How could he fight that? He would just end up dead himself... What if there was a man there with a gun or a knife? Could he fight that?
Before he could second guess himself and turn back after all, he heard a quiet sobbing and groaning, as if someone was in pain. The voice sounded right from behind the bush that was currently obscuring his view, and after taking a deep breath to steel himself, Gold moved around the bush as quietly as he could, instantly casting a quick look at his surroundings, not wanting to miss any possible threats. There were none though. Only a woman sitting on the ground, cradling her foot and indeed – groaning in pain. He sighed in relief that the situation was not nearly as dire as he feared, and he took a careful step closer, which drew the woman's attention and her head shot up, eyes wide in alarm. Seeing her face made him stop in his tracks, and staring at each other, the recognition flashed in both their eyes.
"Mr. Gold, you scared me," she said eventually, letting out a long breath as her stiff posture began to relax slightly, but an amount of suspicion in her blue eyes still remained as she regarded him from her position at the ground.
"Apologises Miss French, it was not my intention," he told her honestly, but not really expecting her to take his word for it. For most people in town, he would be the last person they would want to run into in the woods, and if such situation occurred, they would have turned and fled with a scream. Of course, Miss French in her current situation couldn't run even if she wanted to, which probably only made matters worse.
They eyed each other for a moment longer, until she sniffed, a lone tear trailing down her cheek, and it drew his attention to her evidently injured foot.
"What happened?" He asked, a genuine concern lacing his words. It was so unlike him, to care about other people's well-being, but he chose not to dwell at where the sentiment towards this particular woman was coming from.
"I was running and tripped over a root. My leg..." She trailed off, a quiet sob escaping her, and she quickly wiped the tears from her eyes.
"Here, let me see..." he said, the gentleness of his own voice surprising him, and a distant memory wriggling its way to the forefront of his mind. Moist blue eyes focused on him as he approached closer, but for a moment what he saw were brown eyes, big and wet, cheeks spotted from the tears, and small hands reaching for him, seeking comfort in his secure arms... Emotion trying to choke him, he blinked rapidly, successfully banishing the memory from his mind; even if a pricking pain in his heart remained.
Focusing on the present, he knelt next to Belle with effort, wincing when his leg protested at the position.
"May I?" He gestured at her foot, and she nodded in confirmation, her eyes glued to his hands and tracking their every movement, as they shifted closer towards her leg. He gently took off her trainer and lowered her sock, his mouth hanging open in a silent gasp as his eyes landed on the swollen bruised skin of her ankle. He quickly schooled his features, not wanting to alarm her. Tentatively, he let his hands enclose her foot, fingertips gently probing and his mouth apologising on its own when she hissed in pain. For a few more minutes he assessed the damage and asked her questions, before he gently placed her foot back on the ground, helping her with her shoe, and then with effort drew himself up to a standing position.
"Good news is, it doesn't appear to be broken. I think it's just a sprain, although it may be quite bad. I would suggest you go to the hospital," he said, trying to sound confident in his assessment, and hoping that he wasn't actually wrong.
"Yeah, great plan. Once I get out from this damn forest!" She exclaimed and then instantly gasped, looking up at him with big eyes. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you."
"It's quite alright, I understand you're... upset," he said, opting to forgone the word 'afraid', not sure if she would take kindly to it.
He took a moment to ponder the situation. If it was anyone else, he would tell them that it wasn't his concern how they gonna get out of here, but unlike with most of the townsfolk, he had no hard feelings towards Belle French. If anything, she was one of the few people who had not crossed him, yet. In truth, they had not much interactions with each other. Unlike other people however, she never gave him a wide berth, always had a "good morning" for him if they passed each other, and the one time when he visited the library she was nothing but polite and patient. She also always had rent on time and never tried to weasel her way out of it. Yes, he definitely had nothing against her.
"I can help, if you allow me," he finally said, and his hands wriggled at the handle of his cane nervously, while he waited for her answer. It must have been a difficult decision, he thought. Try to walk out of the forest on your own with a badly sprained ankle or let the most hated man in town help you? He knew what choice almost anyone else in town would make. Meanwhile, Belle's eyes found his, staring at him hard as if trying to see into his soul, until eventually they softened and she gave a nod of agreement with a softly uttered "Okay", and he found himself admiring her just a bit more. There was a strength in accepting someone's help, and bravery in accepting it from someone of his reputation.
He smiled at her gently and extended his hand to help her up, which turned out to not be a good idea, as he was not strong enough or balanced enough to help her uphold her weight like this. That caused him to pull her not strong enough, her to fall backwards with a surprised yelp, her hand still clutching his and tagging him along, his already precarious balance lost as he followed her to the ground.
She fell with a thump and he landed atop her, his body crushing hers, and they both groaned as breath was knocked out of them. He immediately pulled himself up on his forearms and knees, looking down at her with panic.
"Miss French! I am so truly sorry... Are you alright?!"
For a while she just stared at him as if she was in shock and not quite grasping the reality, but then her eyes cleared and she blinked at him. "Yeah, I'm fine. I think."
He nodded. "Good, that's... good."
Only now, when he was assured that she wasn't injured further, he came to realize just how close their bodies were. His knee, to his mortification, had lodged itself between her legs, the distance between their torsos so little, he could feel her breasts brush against the jacket of his suit, while his hands had ended up at both sides of her face, nestling in the soft chestnut tresses, fingers itching to run through them. It had been ages since he was in such close proximity to someone, and his heart thrummed against his ribcage frantically. Yet, it was not from the panic; her eyes, gazing into his with such gentleness, did a good work of keeping his fear at bay. And all he could do, was to gaze back.
But then, a warm breath ghosted over his face when Belle breathed out, and his eyes inadvertently slid down towards her lips, the urge to lean down those few inches and kiss her, suddenly and inexplicably flooding his senses.
And just what the hell was wrong with him? He snapped himself out from the strange trance fast and pushed away from her, heavily landing on his side beside her. He could only hope she didn't realize what thoughts had entered his mind...
"Oh no, your suit! It's... ruined." Her sudden exclamation confused him, and he glanced down at himself – only now noticing how dirty and rumpled his clothing got from the fall, and there even was a small hole in his pants on the left knee.
"It's just a suit," he shrugged. It did cost over a thousand dollars, but he decided to not mention it. It's not like he couldn't easily buy a dozen more suits just like this one. Besides, it hardly mattered. Not when she looked so fragile and worried. As soon as he thought that, the realization struck him. Why wasn't he feeling angry? He had lashed out at people for smaller things after all; but with her, right now, he only felt the urge to ease down her concern, to not make her feel in any way guilty for the damage to his clothes. He drew in a somewhat shaky breath and tried to stop thinking. This woman was confusing him, and he wasn't sure whether he liked it or not.
Only after he refocused his attention, he realized she didn't look quite convinced at his dismissal of the problem. Luckily though, she didn't say anything more about it, instead changing the subject.
"So, umm... what shall we do now?" She asked, and he regarded her for a moment in silence. There was only one way he could think of, and there was no going around it, he supposed. Reaching for his cane, he dragged himself up with a grunt.
She fixed him with a curious stare, as he firmly thrust the cane in the ground, his right hand gripping the handle tightly. After making sure he had a good hold of it, he leaned down, extending his left arm towards her, indicating for her to wrap her arms around his neck. When the understanding of what he meant illuminated her, she did so without much hesitation, and he really tried not to think about how close to her neck it brought his face.
With effort they managed to lift her off the ground, his hand dropping from her back as soon as she had her footing. And suddenly, she was very close to him, her breath gusting over his face and her body pressed against his as she leaned on his shoulder for balance, her wounded leg kept in the air as to not put pressure on it. It should make him uncomfortable, he thought; being this close to someone, having her in his personal space... and yet, there was warmth blossoming inside him, a strange sense of calm overflowing him... And then she glanced up at him, and he glanced down at her, and gods, was she beautiful. Even with ruffled hair, leaves sticking out from it and some dirt smeared on her face, she was just glorious. Breathtaking. A ray of sunshine casting its glow on her features, her eyes seemed to sparkle underneath it, and he was lost. So utterly lost. She must have misinterpreted his staring however, as she slightly flushed in embarrassment, bringing her hand to her cheek.
"Do I have something on my face?"
"What? No..." He instinctively denied, blinking into awareness. "Well, actually – yes," he revised on second thought. At least admitting that gave him an excuse for the staring. Better if she thought that was the reason why he looked at her like this, than the alternative...
"Where? Would you mind to... you know?" She gestured around her face, and he found himself unable to refuse. Pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket, he gingerly brought it to her cheek which sported a small smudge of dirt. Gentle rubbing didn't remove it though, and he frowned.
"Wait, here," she suddenly spoke, and before he could ask what she meant, she grasped his wrist and lowered it to her mouth level, and his eyes widened in astonishment when she spit on the handkerchief. "Okay, try now."
He stared at her in admiration mixed with shock for a few moments, before shaking himself out of it and stirring into action.
Her face cleaned, he decided to try his luck and mentioned the leaves in her hair. She asked him if he could take them off them, and he happily obliged. Why happily, he wasn't sure. Removing leaves from someone's hair shouldn't feel this good, should it?
The task done, he awkwardly glanced at her, not sure what to do or say now. And she was looking right at him, he noticed. Her eyes half-lidded, she must have closed them slightly when he was touching her hair... His mouth dried at the idea and he licked his lips, her eyes opening more as they tracked the movement, and suddenly breathing became quite difficult, and why his face felt so hot?
Their eyes met again, both staring at each other intently, and suddenly their closeness was just too much for him, he was prone do something stupid if she didn't stop looking at him like this... Surely his mind was just playing him and she was in fact waiting for him to let go of her finally; who would enjoy being this close to him after all? Feeling as if he was slapped, his mind crashed down on Earth and he took a hasty step backwards, only to instantly move closer again as his sudden movement had caused her to lose the support she had on his shoulder and she almost toppled down to the ground. Her hands clutched at his arm desperately as she one-legged jumped in place until her stability was regained. To his surprise, when she then looked up at him, a fire was blazing in her beautiful eyes.
"Mind giving me some warning next time you decide to suddenly let go of me?" Her voice was quiet but fierce and her gaze fierce even more, and sudden ire rose in him, a nasty retort immediately at the back of his tongue, but her eyes narrowed at him more, and suddenly he found himself at the lack of words. His mouth closed with a click, and he swallowed thickly. He could not possibly be feeling intimidated by this slip of a woman, could he? He was the one that was intimidating people. And yet, a guilty feeling washed over him, and he had to avert his own eyes away from hers, fighting the urge to cast them downwards like a chastised child. What was the worst however, was that he found himself actually liking this fire in her. Her eyes glowing, her cheeks slightly reddish, and her unforgettable accent strengthening... An unbidden image suddenly entered his mind, suggesting another scenario where she could show this fire, and he hastily cleared his throat.
"We should, uh... head back. I think this way is going to be the fastest," he said, hating his voice for sounding so weak and stifled.
He tried to turn in the direction he meant, and Belle jumped on her leg to turn with him, but their coordination was so bad, he feared they would end up falling again. Wanting to prevent that, his hand wrapped automatically around her waist, granting them more stability. For a short terrifying moment he feared he crossed the boundary, touching her like this without asking the permission first, but she soon relaxed into the embrace, leaning against his side more comfortably, one of her hands wrapped securely around his back, and he breathed in relief.
They manoeuvred around the path without further problems. The true challenge came however in the form of walking forwards, both of them limping and uncoordinated, ending up moving in a slalom, rather than a straight line. They would look like drunks to anyone who could stumble across them, Gold thought with amusement.
Not more than 10 minutes had passed, before both were out of breath and needed to stop for a break.
"The sun is gonna set soon... We won't manage to get out of here till the dusk, in this pace..." Belle panted out as she approached a fallen log and sat heavily on it, leaning down to rest her head between her knees and trying to steady her breath that way.
"You're right, it's pointless," he agreed. But what else could they do? There was no reception in the forest, so they couldn't call for help. They haven't encountered any other person either, and there was a small chance of that changing.
"I could get out on my own and get my car, it's parked just outside the forest," he suggested finally, but she instantly flashed him a panicked look.
"No, don't leave me here alone!" She begged, her voice cracking at the last word.
He felt a pang of sympathy. She was hopeless, and he knew that feeling very well. Not being able to run, having to rely on someone to help you walk, having no way of defending yourself if the situation arises... If he left her now, and an animal or someone vile could come, she wouldn't have the possibility to run from the danger.
"Okay, I won't leave," he promised, and gladly noticed relief come over her face.
As seconds ticked away, he felt more and more awkward just standing there. His leg was unhappy too, and he shifted uncomfortably, trying to take the weight off of his aching limb.
"Why won't you sit down?" She suggested, and he nodded in gratitude. Gingerly he lowered himself next to her, trying to keep as much distance as the log allowed, and a sigh escaped him as his leg could finally rest.
For some time they were just sitting and catching their breath, and he tried to think of a solution to their problem. When only one option kept popping into his mind, he sighed in defeat and decided to voice it.
"There is only one more option I can think of," he started, and had to swallow as her hopeful eyes turned to him. "I have a cabin not far from here," he said carefully, and counted seconds for her to tell him a definite no. She did seem to be considering the option however, her forehead slightly creased as she thought it through.
"Alright, let's go there," she said eventually.
"Really?" It slipped from his mouth before he could think about it, and she shrugged.
"I can still hit or kick you, remember," she remarked, but there was no real warning in her voice, so he allowed himself a small chuckle.
"Of course, dear," he agreed. "However, I did help you thus far – had I have bad intentions, I wouldn't need to drag you all the way to the cabin," he pointed out.
"I suppose you're right. Unless, it's some intricate plan," she said, but although her voice remained teasing rather than warning, her words kept nagging at him.
"You, uh... You don't really think that I would harm you, do you?" He asked, from some reason needing a voiced confirmation, even if the smile she was fighting to keep away was a clue as to the answer.
"No, I don't," she affirmed, and relief filled him. "At the beginning I may had been a bit suspicious, but you made it clear that all you want is to just help me; and I do appreciate that," she stressed, reaching over and briefly squeezing his shoulder to underscore her point. "I'm really glad you're here," she added in a soft voice.
He let out a humourless laugh. "Most people would think you mental for saying that," he said, keeping any bite from his voice, not wanting her to think of it as an insult. To his surprise, she giggled.
"Yeah, they probably would. But then, all they see is your reputation." She cast her eyes down suddenly, and drew in a breath. "I must admit, that the reason why I felt suspicious at first was because I was thinking about your reputation too..." she said, glancing up at him, her expression worried. "I'm... I'm sorry if that offends you."
"It's hardly an offense, Miss French," he told her with honesty. "I wasn't really expecting you to think anything else when I suddenly popped out from behind the bush," he added in a light-hearted voice and she laughed, bringing a goofy grin at his own face, one he tried hard to wrestle down, but to no avail.
Once her laugh died out, she glanced his way with a question arising in her eyes. "Why did you come to my aid anyway?"
"Ah, I just stumbled upon you by chance, I assure you. I was simply walking that way," he said, the need to protect his reputation and not let anyone see what really lied beyond his hard shell taking the priority, before he could actually think about what to answer. However, if the look of doubt she gave him was any indication, she didn't buy his explanation. He swallowed, suddenly feeling somewhat ashamed, and was glad when she returned to her bent down position, not pressing the subject further.
Concentrating at his hands, he absentmindedly played with the blue-stoned ring on his finger, as silence descended upon them, only sounds of the forest and their breathing audible. He was glad to find it was an easy and companionable kind of silence, one that didn't hang heavily over them and didn't need feeling. It was something he had little experience with, but it did feel very nice, he had to admit.
After they both were rested and regained their strength, he led them to the cottage, both of them tired again by the time they had reached it. He opened the door with a slight effort, trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder that served as a support for her and to which she was clinging with all her might.
"Could you point me to the bathroom? I need to wash my hands," she asked once he closed the door behind them.
"Yes, of course."
Once they cleaned themselves from the dirt, he helped her to the old battered couch, Belle dropping on it with a relieved sigh. For a moment he just stared at her transfixed, her beauty and the trust she put in him awing him and entrancing. He shook his head to clear it.
"I uh, I may have something that could help, but I'm not sure. I don't exactly come here often," he said with a little shrug. His only answer was a little hum, as Belle seemed to be barely paying him any mind, sprawled on the couch as she was, her injured leg outstretched, and relief painted all over her face. Berating himself for gazing at her again, he hastily retreated deeper into the room, focusing his attention at rummaging through the few cabinets he had there, until he finally procured a cup. Rinsing it, he filled it with water from the sink, and approached the couch, clearing his throat to draw her attention. Her eyes snapped open and she regarded him and the cup curiously, as he handed it to her, suddenly filling embarrassed at offering such a poor beverage.
"I'm afraid I've got nothing better to drink," he said apologetically, internally cursing himself for being so soft.
She took the cup from his hand, putting it to her lips eagerly. "It's alright, this will do just fine," she said, and then gulped the water down in one go. She handed the cup back, their fingers brushing this time, and a spark of something shot through him, making him stumble slightly, which he hoped she didn't notice. Seriously, what was wrong with him today?
He quickly refilled the cup and drank down the water, and then did it again, just to make sure his body got enough fluids to stop its ridiculous reactions to Miss French. It was not like him to feel such way, even if she was beautiful and sweet and lovely, like a ray of sunshine against the storm cloud that was his heart... Groaning in frustration, he tried to concentrate on the situation at hand. With purposeful strides, he walked to the bathroom, grabbing a towel from there and then backtracking to the main room, where he pulled out a knife from the drawer and a single Ziploc bag. Thus prepared, he headed towards a freezer and started to scrape down the ice from its inside, grateful that it was an old thing and also still connected to the electricity. Eventually having whole bag filled with ice, he wrapped it into a towel, and moved towards the couch.
"It should help with the swelling. If I may...?" he gestured at her foot, and she nodded instantly. He braced himself against the cane and leaned down, pressing the clothed bag against her ankle, and Belle hissed in pain and relief alike as the cold interacted with her heated swollen skin.
It wasn't long however before his back muscles protested at staying in the hunched position, and his sudden discomfort didn't skip Belle's attention.
"Why won't you sit down and I will just put my leg on your lap?"
He barely managed to stop himself from openly gaping at her upon hearing this suggestion, and instead resorted to merely asking if she was sure. At her confirmation, he did as she asked, his heart thrumming against his chest as her leg rested on his thighs, and the urge he felt to run his hands across her exposed shins was crushing. But no, he could not do that. Instead, he kept staring ahead pointedly, for the whole several minutes, as his hands firmly – although gently - kept the bag pressed against her hurt ankle. His mind still wandered however, and he tried desperately to force it to stay empty and willed his thoughts to not drift towards the warmth that was seeping through his pants from her bare skin, to how close her foot was to his crotch... and just a little wriggle and she would touch his... With his mind realizing this, his other parts came to the same conclusion as well, and, to his utter horror, he felt himself stir. Eyes going wide, he jumped from the couch, just barely catching himself in time to gently lower her leg on the seat.
"I think it's been enough time, it could be... umm... could be bad, to... to keep it on any longer," he said hastily in a way of explanation, tripping over words and his voice too high to his own ears, and quickly he fled to the bathroom, his face flushed and heart pounding.
Being in the safe sanctuary and able to catch his breath, he dropped the bag into the sink, and proceeded to scold his brain for its terrible thoughts and his long unused part for being so treacherous and coarse. What if she would have discovered where his mind had wandered or noticed his body's reaction? She would have thought of him as an old lecherous beast, surely. The imagine of her feeling disgusted by him and hating him suddenly felt like the worst thing in the world, and his heart was grasped in a vice grip, forcing him to take several deep breaths in order to regain his composure.
He had to focus on something else, before he would go mad. Casting a desperate glance around, finally an idea occurred to him, and he dove in a search of cabinets, until eventually he found a bottle of painkillers which he had left behind the last time he was here. Luckily, they appeared to be still up to date.
Making sure he was indeed well composed, he ventured back to the main room. He filled the cup with water and took out two pills from the bottle, handing both to Belle.
"It's painkillers, ones I take myself, for my leg," he said matter of factly, and she nodded, accepting the cup and pills from him. She swallowed quickly, and he marvelled at how trusting she was, not questioning whether those were really painkillers, but he found himself quickly distracted, his newly found composure shattered as his eyes drifted down on their own, following a single drop of water that escaped her lips, trailing down her jaw, dropping on her neck, and ending up under the edge of her cleavage.
Unexpectedly, he was now looking at her bosom, her chest falling and rising slowly with each breath took and exhaled, and he flushed in embarrassment, quickly averting his eyes. To his mortification however, she had already noticed, her gaze unwaveringly fixated on his face. He was sure she would rebuke him for his impertinences, but she said nothing, not even a flash of anger registering on her features. Instead, with a quick flash of a smile, she lolled her head back against the arm of the couch and closed her eyes, leaving him feeling truly perplexed. How could she possibly not mind him ogling her? Or she just decided yelling at him, while she depended on his help, would not be wise? And what did that smile mean? Was it good, or the opposite? He wanted to know, but he wasn't able to find the courage to ask her any of this.
Awkwardness arising in him more with each passing second and his mind nowhere nearer comprehension, he eventually decided to sit on the lone armchair by the fireplace and rest his aching leg. He swallowed two painkillers and then did just that, setting himself as comfortably as he could in the small seat, and allowing his eyes to fall shut.
The next time he opened them, there was moonlight shining through the windows. He had fallen asleep. They have fallen asleep, as little snores coming from the couch informed him. Damn it. He grasped his cane and limped over to Belle, his hand moving to her shoulder in intention of rousing her, but he stopped before he could touch her. It's not like they could head out in the middle of the night anyway. Best to let her sleep, he decided. He would have moved her to the bed, if his leg allowed it, but alas, he couldn't do that. Instead, he went to the bed himself, concluding that sleeping in the armchair would only cause his ankle to hurt tomorrow, which would hinder his trip out of the woods.
Upon entering the small bedroom, an idea occurred to him, and snatching a blanket from the bed, he took it to the main room, gently tucking Belle in, careful to not wake her. When he eventually made his way back to the bedroom, he collapsed on the small bed with a tired groan, his limbs finally protesting after all the exertion they were forced to perform today. Still, he couldn't find it in himself to truly complain. He never thought he would get a chance to spend so much time alone with Belle French, and as much as he preferred to stay away from people in general, he wouldn't mind seeing her again. The thought made his stomach drop; he knew it was just a wishful thinking, a notion that would surely never come to be. Still, one could dream, right?
A loud thump followed by another thump woke him up and, not wasting any second, he leaped from the bed, quickly slipping into his shoes and limping towards the main room, his cane hoisted up as he entered, ready to hit whoever was there. Then his eyes landed on the coffee table, broken and lying on the floor, frightened Belle perched stiffly on the couch and catching the breath with obvious difficulty. With the calming realization that it was not in fact a burglary, he quickly lowered his cane, and made a careful way around the remnants of the table.
"Are you alright? What happened?" He asked, coming to a stop next to the couch.
"I'm fine, but I'm so sorry for this..." she said with some despair in her voice. "I just, I wanted to stand up, so I thought I could lean on the table... And then the leg fell off and the whole thing just collapsed..." She sighed and glanced at him with sad eyes. "I'm being such a nuisance to you..."
"Ah, nonsense. Besides, it was an old table, must have already been damaged. It's certainly not your fault, Miss French," he assured her, and she sent him a grateful smile, his heart skipping a beat at the sight.
Not sure what to do now, he headed for the entrance, opting to take a peek outside, and a beam of bright light flew into the room as soon as he opened the door. It was a beautiful morning – sunny and warm, promising just as lovely day.
"A perfect day for a walk", he heard her say, her voice sounding almost pensive, and he turned towards her. Her mouth was slightly agape and her eyes seemed to have taken on a faraway look, staring in his direction in wonder and, if he didn't know better, he would say – in admiration.
"It is, yes..." he agreed, his voice somewhat stifled, and he had to clear his throat to get rid of the strange feeling that suddenly overcame him, squeezing his throat tight. The sound seemed to pull her out of whatever reverie she was in, and, her eyes finding his, she send him a smile so warm, he could be looking at the sun itself. When a moment later she invitingly patted the empty space on the couch beside her, he felt himself drifting towards her without giving his legs a conscious command. It was as if she had enchanted him... What a ridiculous thought, really.
He lowered himself at the edge of the couch carefully, his body slightly tilting towards Belle.
"How is your leg today?" He asked after a moment, because he didn't know how else to start a conversation, but also because, surprisingly, he actually wanted to know. Truly, how could it be, that this slip of a woman he barely knew, made him feel such worry about her well-being?
"Slightly better, but that's probably because of the pills," she said, and he harrumphed in answer. As she added nothing more, he tried desperately to think of something else to say, the silence becoming heavier as the seconds ticked away.
"I've been wondering..." She spoke after a while and when he looked her way, she was glancing at him with curiosity. "Why did you really come to my rescue?"
"Ah, I already told you yesterday," he tried, but she just snorted at him.
"You don't think I believed in that, do you?"
"No," he agreed with a sigh.
She kept staring at him intently, expecting or maybe – hoping, to hear the truth, and he realized there was no point in trying to trudge further into that lie. Surprisingly, he didn't even want to.
"I was walking on the other path, when I heard a shriek. I figured someone needed help. That's all..." he admitted, and almost leaped at the sudden feel of a warm palm sliding into his hand. Startled, he glanced to the side, only to find Belle sitting suddenly so very close to him, her small soft hand gently grasping his bigger calloused one and slightly squeezing it.
"And so you rushed to the rescue, no strings attached, only the desire to help..." she whispered in wonder. "You're not as heartless as people say you are. You do care," there was so much conviction in her voice, so much warmth in her eyes... He leaned closer to her, his eyes sliding down to her slightly parted lips, the need to kiss her almost overwhelming.
He pulled back before he could close the distance and shatter the trust she have so generously bestowed upon him. She couldn't possibly want his kiss; how could she? He was a monster, and one act of kindness on his part didn't change that.
Letting his hand slip away from hers, he turned his head in sudden shame and anger, his eyes only briefly catching sight of her face, and it surely wasn't disappointment in her eyes, was it?
No, no sense to dwell on it. He stood to his feet, and headed straight to the doorway. "I will go retrieve my car, shouldn't take more than hour I suppose. Then I will give you a ride to the hospital," he said, not looking at her.
"Okay, I'm gonna just wait here and rest then." Her reply reached him, and he could have swore she sounded almost sad. He didn't move for a few more seconds, his back still to her, a strange sensation keeping a grasp on his guts, making him feel strangely... guilty? It's not like he made a mistake... Right? Shaking his head, he opened the door and left.
As they arrived at the hospital, he offered to wait for her in the car, but she asked him to accompany her, saying that she feared hospitals. He consented. Now, he was sitting in the waiting room, while she was at the examination, and the minutes tickling by did nothing to calm his raving mind. The past day brought so many confounding emotions to him, that he didn't know what to think of it. Why was she having such effect on him? His mind started to supply an answer, but he told it to shut up. It was just a physical attraction, a result of years of loneliness, and nothing more. Yet, he did feel the urge to protect her, a strong sympathy as well, and the inexplicable yearning to keep seeing her and get to know her better. He could definitely like her, he thought. Wouldn't mind having a friend in her too... A friend he wanted to kiss, and that wasn't going to work. Besides, who's to say she would even want to have anything to do with him now? Just because he helped her and she bestowed him with trust, and she touched his hand, it didn't mean anything... Or did it?
His thoughts were interrupted as the door opened, and Belle slowly limped from it, supporting herself on two crutches. Doctor Whale followed her out, wished her quick recovery and then headed down the hallway. His eyes quickly averted from the doctor's retreating figure and shifted to Belle, who now stopped before him.
"You were right, it's just a sprain," she said, glancing softly into his eyes. "Doctor Whale prescribed some pills on the pain, and said I should rest and avoid putting pressure on the leg. Apparently, it's a moderate sprain, so according to him it should be around 6 weeks before it heals."
"That's not too bad". He remembered his own injury. Several surgeries, a year of hard rehabilitation, extensive prolonged pain... it was a nightmare. One that took away more than just his ability to walk without assistance...
"Yeah, it could've been worse," she agreed, her voice dragging him away from his painful memories, and he refocused on the beauty before him. "And I still haven't thanked you yet. If it weren't for you... I don't know what would have happened..." Her voice suddenly quivered, and with alarm he noticed that her eyes glazed over.
"But I was there, so there's no point in thinking of other scenarios that did not occur," he said reasonably, hoping to reassure her.
"You're right, of course," she gave him a wobbly smile, a lonely tear escaping despite her efforts to keep the tears in. Without thinking, he reached out with his finger and wiped it out, catching it just at the cheek. Her eyes kept him in place, the warmth he saw in them in the morning appearing there again, and suddenly, his hand was cupping her cheek. Her skin felt so soft and warm, he couldn't stop himself from stroking it with his thumb, and her eyelids fluttered closed as she leaned into his touch, nuzzling against his palm like a happy kitten. He felt his stomach flutter at the sensation, a smile making its way on his face as hope blossomed in his old withered heart.
They stayed in their bubble, time frozen around them, until one of the nurses passed by them, casting him a dirty look, and suddenly the bubble burst. Coming back to reality, he withdrew his hand and grasped the handle of his cane tightly, his eyes downcast in the awkwardness suddenly washing over him.
"You know, Mr. Gold... I think I should thank you... properly," she said, and he raised his eyes to her beautiful ones with confusion.
"What do you mean?"
"Hamburgers and coke, maybe?"
His mind screeching to a halt, he opened his mouth, but as no words came for a few seconds, he let them close, his heart instantaneously sinking at the sight of her face falling.
"I mean, of course, we don't have to," she hastily amended, her voice wavering despite her obvious effort to keep it steady. "I'm sorry if I've wrongly assumed that..." she dropped whatever she meant to say and shook her head with a sigh. "You did so much for me and I imposed on your time enough already, I understand if you don't want to see my face anymore," she whispered, her head low and eyes staring at the floor rather than him.
Without thinking, he reached for her chin with gentle fingers, raising it until their eyes met again. "I could never tire of seeing your face," he told her with a smile, and for a few terrifying seconds he was afraid he just crossed a boundary. But then, her face broke in a huge radiant smile and he was rewarded with her glorious happy laugh; the sound of it a music to his ears and a balm to his soul.
When eventually her laughter ceased, her cheeks were adorably red and blue eyes shone at him with hope and relief and... something else. Something that made him want to kiss her and he really lost the count of number of times he had felt this way since their chance encounter yesterday.
"So, it's a yes to hamburgers?" She asked, but he suspected she knew the answer already. Still, he gladly answered;
"Yes."