Exhaling slowly, Belle approached the ornate house with trepidation. This new world was foreign from the dark, quiet one she had known and all of her senses were overwhelmed from the array of sights, sounds, and colors she now experienced. Her only comfort was in knowing that the man standing to her right was the one bit of humanity she knew, which grounded her. When a wave of anxiety rushed over her and made it hard for her to breathe, her eyes remained locked on the building as she reached her hand out towards him, grasping at empty air. She only calmed down again once his gloved hand grasped her bare one and squeezed her fingers tight.
"I can't imagine what this must be like for you," Mr. Gold said softly. She turned her face towards his, unable to explain the trust she felt towards this stranger. "To spend so many years in a concrete room, not knowing who you are…" his voice broke. "To suddenly find yourself in a strange place—"
"—and doubting my sanity," Belle confessed. She squeezed his fingers with hers and enjoyed the warmth spreading through her when he smiled down at her. "Don't worry about me, Mr. Gold. I'll be fine." For a moment she hesitated, brow crumpled in thought. "You just don't seem like a Mr. Gold to me."
"I get that sometimes," he giggled nervously. Before she could reply he reached a hand out as if to brush her cheek; halfway through the motion he appeared to lose his nerve and instead offered his arm to her. "Shall we?"
She accepted his elbow, gripping perhaps more tightly to his arm than she knew to be proper for a man she had only just met. Fear conquered her sense of politeness however, and she found herself unable to control her anxiety until Mr. Gold patted her hand gently. He led her up the stairs and unlocked the front door, pushing it open wide so that she could enter first. "After you," he murmured, gesturing inside welcomingly.
Her eyes immediately roamed across every surface, taking in the many valuable objects Mr. Gold had chosen to display in his home. Intricately crafted statues rested on pedestals and shelves while shimmering jewelry lined velvet cushions and deadly weapons were mounted to the walls. A spicy aroma that hung in the air tugged at her memories. She swallowed hard, not knowing how but still quite certain in the homesickness it stirred. She walked slowly across the hard wood floors, admiring their beauty, before noticing the stained glass windows. They glowed in the light of the setting sun, hues of red, green, and yellow capturing her eyes and swelling her heart with warmth.
"Do you like it?"
Mr. Gold's gentle voice came from directly behind Belle, startling her. She met his anxious expression with a smile, grasping his hand again. "It's beautiful. You really don't have to give me a place to stay though, I can't impose upon you any further—"
He loosened her grip from his arm, albeit gently so, and turned away from Belle. His stride was unsteady, much of his weight supported by the cane he leaned against. She was saddened by the sight of his frailty but did not dare ask what had happened to make him limp so.
"You could never impose upon me, dear. I have spare bedrooms so you may pick whichever you like best," he said tonelessly. Belle could sense Mr. Gold was struggling with some painful internal struggle, his finger stroking the length of a long, thin blade displayed on the foyer wall. When he turned around to look at her his eyes were kind but his expression pained. "All I ask is that you make yourself at home."
"Thank you, Mr. Gold." Belle's voice quivered with gratitude, and she hurried forward to grasp his hand in both of hers. "You've been so kind to me, even though you've had no reason to be. I'll help out in any way I can, I can clean the house for you." She saw his face darken, but he said nothing for a long moment. Finally he lifted a long lock of Belle's matted brown hair, gazing at it sadly.
"You will not have to do anything of the sort while you are here, Belle. You're my guest. Now let me show you where you can take a bath."
Trying to ignore the sudden surge of panic, Belle followed him up the stairs, her eyes constantly being pulled this way and that by the sights that hid behind half-opened doors as they passed them. When they arrived at the end of landing in the upstairs hallway Mr. Gold turned to face her again. She found herself gazing at him, an abrupt rush of longing replacing the panic that made her cheeks redden slightly.
"My room is here, to the right," he motioned to a closed door at the end of the hallway. "Directly across is the guest bathroom, and the two doors behind us are the two extra bedrooms. At the moment only one has a rather small bed and are filled with items of my own, but whichever you prefer I will clean out and make as a space for you."
The enormity of his generosity struck Belle dumb so she merely nodded. He opened the door to the bathroom.
Never had Belle seen anything so inviting. Everything was a pristine white and spaciously positioned so that she felt a lovely openness rather than claustrophobic. There was a shower much more luxurious than the one she had known and, in the right corner directly under a distorted glass window, a large, clawfoot bathtub.
"I'm sorry to say that I don't have much for, er, feminine products in this bathroom," Mr. Gold interrupted her reverie from behind her. She noticed he suddenly had items in his free arm- Belle hadn't realized he had even left." In truth I never have visitors to stay so I don't even have products here at all, but I can give you mine for now until we can get some you'd prefer." He held out a few bottles of shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and a wide-tooth comb. Belle took them and cradled them to her chest. "Also, I figured you wouldn't want to keep wearing what you have on so I brought you some of my old pajamas to wear, if you'd prefer."
Belle looked down at her clothing. She had completely forgotten she was still wearing the hospital clothing. She had worn them day in and day out for so long that she'd never truly paid them much mind. She accepted the folded pile of clothes from Mr. Gold and smiled shyly down at her feet, occasionally glancing up to meet his gaze. "Thank you very much."
There was an awkward, though not uncomfortable, silence for a few moments before Mr. Gold backed out of the bathroom. "I'll leave you to it, then."
"What? You mean I can bathe myself?" The words popped out of Belle before she could stop herself and she immediately regretted them, mortified. Mr. Gold froze for a fraction of a second before he looked over his shoulder at her. His expression was blank, and Belle hurried to try and explain. "They never let me wash myself at that place… They scrubbed me in a shower—It's just hard getting used to freedom, I didn't mean to ask you to do it for me…" Belle finally bit her lip to silence herself, looking anywhere but at Mr. Gold.
"No one will ever make you do anything you don't want to, Belle. Not anymore." His voice was soothing but she could detect anger underneath. "For now I'm going to head out to the store to pick up some things you will need now that you are staying here. I will be locking the door behind me, but feel free to explore the house until I return home."
"You're leaving?" Belle burst out, then berated herself again. She hadn't expected him to leave and, until that moment, had not realized she had been enjoying the idea that he would be in the house with her.
"I won't be long," he promised, smiling with a hint at knowingness that brought a new intensity to the lingering blush in Belle's cheeks. "And you will be perfectly safe, I promise you."
With that he left, the door snapping shut silently behind him. Belle turned her attention to the bathtub. She set the bottles down on the tile at the foot of the tub before peering intently at the nobs. Noticing the H and C and taking an educated guess as to their function, she twisted and adjusted them until the running water was hot to the touch. While it filled she pulled off her hospital clothes, throwing them unceremoniously into a corner and hoping sincerely that Mr. Gold would let her throw them away. She'd rather wear his old pajamas everyday than those reminders of that horrible place.
Her eyes lingered on the clothes he had given her and she traced a finger over the soft, gray heather fabric of the shirt. Realizing abruptly what she was doing, Belle quickly changed her train of thought to focusing on removing the knots from her hair. The process was painful and slow, and by the time she had finished her scalp was aching and there were large amounts of brown knotted hair in the trash bin. Even so she felt a certain triumph, and her hair was much softer against her face and neck. Turning her attention back to the tub Belle saw tendrils of steam twirling invitingly towards the ceiling. Slowly, Belle lowered a foot into the water.
The heat sent goose bumps erupting across Belle's skin but it felt so pleasurable that she quickly hoisted her other leg over the side of the tub, lowering herself into the basin until she was submerged up to her shoulders. Her body screamed in protest but her mind had already begun to relax as she dipped her head backwards into the water. She let her body float slightly, the tub being large enough for her to spread out the length of herself and still remain underwater. The experience was new to her yet familiar, and she wondered not for the first time how she had come to be in the hospital in the first place.
As early back as she could remember her awareness began in that dark, dingy room with only one small window to let in a margin of light. She could think of no one from before that time, and her clearest personal memories were of the blonde nurse who had come in to give her the medication that would make her drowsy, who gave Belle her meals and bathed her. Sometimes an unfamiliar woman's face would appear in a slot on the door keeping her barred in, but Belle had always chalked these appearances up to the medication they kept her on. The only reason she knew her own name was because Mr. Gold had told her. He seemed to know who she was, even if she herself didn't.
Belle sat up in the tub, anxious to distract herself. She reached over the side and grabbed the bottle of shampoo, pouring a generous dollop into her hand. It smelled clean and crisp like Mr. Gold himself, which pulled her lips into a grin. She lathered the liquid into her hair, eyes closed in enjoyment at the simple fact that she had all the time in the world to knead it into her scalp and pull it through the length of her hair. The tub, being aligned with the large mirror that took up much of the wall across the room, gave Belle sight of how her hair looked in a soapy updo. She giggled, the shock of which made her stop abruptly, watching her face in the mirror.
She couldn't remember having laughed before.
Shaking herself, Belle ducked her head underwater again, running her hands through her hair to rinse the shampoo out. The bathwater took on the aroma and soon Belle was surrounded by the scent of Mr. Gold. She found it rather pleasing and kept inhaling deeply so that she could store it to memory. After a few minutes she sat back up and looked over the side of the tub at the other two bottles. Conditioner was a foreign concept to her, but the directions told her it was to be applied after shampoo and would make her hair soft and shiny; a product for beauty, then.
While applying it to her hair Belle caught her expression in the mirror. There was sadness etched upon her face and the reason wasn't lost on her—Belle couldn't remember ever considering what it was to be beautiful. Was she? She could not compare herself to anyone else and had no idea what would be thought of as beautiful anyway.
"I wonder what he finds beautiful," Belle wondered aloud, her eyes on the pajamas sitting on the counter. Thinking that it shouldn't matter what Mr. Gold found beautiful, she hurriedly rinsed the conditioner out of her hair, and was pleasantly surprised by how soft it had indeed made her hair feel while just wet still. She then poured some of the body wash into her hands and rubbed herself clean. Not wanting to still be in the bath when Mr. Gold returned, Belle stood up and grabbed one of the towels from behind her to dry off with.
Even the towels in this man's house are elegant, she thought to herself admiringly as she gently patted her skin dry with the fluffy white cotton. She couldn't help but stare at herself in the mirror as she did so. Aside from when she had been showered and paid little attention, Belle had never seen her own body naked before; at least not in such detail. Having yet again no idea what the normal was, she felt only frustration with what she saw. In the end she averted her gaze, focusing instead on draining the bathwater and using the now-dirty towel to mop up the small puddles of water that had pooled while she bathed.
Satisfied the mess was reasonably well-cleaned, Belle reached for the pajamas and pulled the grey shirt on first. The shirt had apparently not been designed to be particularly baggy and it clung to her frame more snugly than she was used to. Another shock came to Belle when she noticed the two tiny bulges poking out from behind the shirt, and she plucked at the fabric self-consciously. The plaid pants, however, were comfortably loose on her.
Belle stepped timidly out of the bathroom into the hallway, peering around to see if she could hear anything. She had hoped that Mr. Gold had perhaps returned home and she'd simply not heard him, but the house sounded deserted. Since she had been given permission to explore his home, Belle walked to the room where she thought she had seen a mass of books. She was not disappointed.
Mr. Gold seemed to have collected as many books as he had trinkets and weapons. All of the walls were lined with shelves packed with volumes, some appearing to be so old they were nearly falling apart. She walked leisurely along the shelves, reading the titles until she found one very old, battered binding that read "Journey to the Center of the Earth," by an author called Jules Verne. Intrigued, Belle gently slid it out of the shelf and carried it downstairs to where she had seen a large, leather sofa when they'd first arrived.
A great contentment stole over Belle as she nestled herself down on the cushions and curled up with the book. She was soon thoroughly engrossed with her choice and did not notice the passing of time until a loud rap of knocks jolted her back to the present. Belle's first, excited thought was that Mr. Gold was home. Then she remembered that he of course had a key to his own home and would have no need to knock. Confused and with a small amount of trepidation, Belle cradled the book to her chest and went to the door.
"Who is it?" she called through the wood, feeling ridiculous when she remembered that she would have no idea who it was even if they answered.
"Hi! Is this Belle? I'm Mary Margaret. There are some of us here who would like to welcome you!"
Belle unlocked the door and opened it a crack, peering out. The sky was a pale pink and blue, telling her that it was nearing nightfall. Even so the brightness still blinded her a bit after having been in the dark house for so long. Squinting, Belle finally distinguished the three women who stood on the steps.
The woman in front was quite pale and had very short, dark hair. The one to the far right was very tall and thin, with long brown hair that had streaks of red in it and very shockingly red lips. In the middle was a woman who was about the same height as the first and had long, wavy blonde hair; she wore an expression that plainly said she was there humoring the other two, but didn't appear unkind.
"Hi!" The short-haired woman said rather breathlessly, and Belle recognized the voice as the one who had spoken through the door. "I'm Mary Margaret, this is Ruby," she motioned to the tall girl at the end, "and this is Emma," she finished, touching the arm of the girl in the middle.
"Hello," Belle replied politely, though a little nervously. "I'm Belle."
"We heard about how Regina had kept you trapped in that hospital basement, how horrible that must have been for you!" Mary Margaret's sweet voice shook with emotion and she wrung her hands together.
"Don't worry about Regina," the blonde said suddenly, her face filled with dislike. "We'll be dealing with her once we get the case built."
"Emma is the town sheriff," Mary Margaret answered Belle's look of confusion. "She's building a case against her and she'll go to jail for what she did, I promise you that."
"We thought you could use with some girl friends, and maybe a girl's night out," the brunette suddenly chimed in, her smile wide and friendly. "Would you want to join us this weekend for a day of shopping and then going to a club?"
Belle, having no idea what they had in mind with shopping or what they meant by going to a club, was nevertheless touched by the sincere concern and friendliness of the women—even if the blonde appeared less than excited by the proposed day in question—and smiled at them, opening the door wider so that she was standing fully in front of them.
"That would be lovely, thank you."
"Fantastic!" Mary Margaret exclaimed, clapping her hands together in obvious glee. "We'll come pick you up at around noon this Saturday. It was nice meeting you!" she added with a wave as the three women walked down the steps towards a bright yellow car (Belle remembered Mr. Gold explaining what it was when he'd driven them home in his own, black one). Belle waved back and then shut the door again. A weight she hadn't even known she carried on her chest seemed to leave with them, and it was with a small bubble of hope in its stead that she settled back down to continue reading her book.
Time seemed to have barely passed since the three women had left when she heard mismatched steps punctuated with a metallic chink approaching on the stairs. Looking up Belle realized that there was no more light at all streaming in through the stain glass, only the dim glow from the lamp behind her. Suddenly, inexplicably excited, Belle marked her place in the book and set it down, hurrying towards the door. When Mr. Gold walked in carrying a few bags in one hand, Belle found herself genuinely pleased to see him.
"Hello!" she said breathlessly. Mr. Gold smiled at her and shut the door behind him. She walked alongside him as he made his way across the room with the sofa.
"Hello, Belle," he said with an affection that made her beam. "Why was the door unlocked?"
"Oh, some women came and introduced themselves. I guess I forgot to lock it when they left."
"Did they now?" he inquired, his tone light but suddenly tense. "Who were they?"
"Mary Margaret, Emma, and Ruby, they said. They were very nice," she added as an after-thought, wondering why his face seemed so tight. However her words seemed to reassure him, and he smiled a bit as he set the bags down on a counter in the next room over.
"I see. Did you like them?"
"They seemed nice," she replied honestly. "They invited me to go out with them Saturday. To do some shopping and… something about a club?"
Mr. Gold laughed at that, but there was a slight edge as he did so. "Maybe a club isn't such a good idea. I'll have to make sure they will truly watch over you if you they plan on having you drink." Catching the look of confusion that Belle felt was now appearing far too often on her face, Mr. Gold grinned mischeviously. "Drinking alcohol is a dangerous past time even for the most seasoned of drinkers."
Still having no idea what he was talking about but not wanting to appear any more ignorant, Belle merely nodded and watched him begin to take things out of the bags.
"What is this room?" she asked suddenly, glancing around at all of the objects.
"This is the kitchen." To her relief Mr. Gold did not sound at all impatient with her. "This is where you make food."
"Oh," Belle said. She had no idea what anything in this room did. She made a mental note to ask him later how to make food here.
"I see my pajamas fit you well," he said suddenly, and Belle felt a flush creep into her face as his eyes raked swiftly over her form, doing the tiniest of double takes to where the shirt fit snugly across her chest. Unfamiliar with the pleasant sort of embarrassment this gave her, Belle reached up and ran her fingers through the ends of her hair to distract her hands from shaking.
"They do, thank you for them. My other clothes I was hoping I could throw away."
"Of course you can, dear. I don't want you ever to have to think of that place again." He reached out suddenly and ran a finger down her cheek. Some small part of herself—possibly instinct, she thought, having no experience othewrise—told her this sort of contact from a stranger should not be welcomed. Belle was thoroughly surprised by not only how much she enjoyed the act of affection, but by how normal it felt to her.
Then Mr. Gold dropped his hand and the moment was gone. Belle felt a pang of sadness when he turned away from her, his expression unreadable.
"Mr. Gold," she began hesitantly. She saw him pause for a moment with putting away some of the groceries before he turned to meet her eyes. "When I found you at your shop… That man who sent me to you knew something. You reacted very strongly to seeing me," she added in a small voice, not wanting to embarrass him by reminding him that he had cried. Mr. Gold appeared extremely unconcerned, however, so she carried on. "I just wondered… why. How do you know me when I can't even remember who I am?"
She watched Mr. Gold's dark brown eyes as they stared intently at her. He seemed to be soaking in her features, which nearly brought a renewal of pink to Belle's cheeks had she not been so absorbed in hoping he would answer her. When he finally spoke again his voice was unsteady and slow, as if he calculated every word before he said it.
"We knew each other before you were taken into that hospital. I had no idea you had been put there. I thought you had died," he finished. The muscles in his face twitched; he was struggling to maintain composure, she could tell. Belle approached him cautiously and placed a hand on his cheek. It was slightly scratchy from not having been shaved but soft and warm. The touch ignited something inside of her and she froze there, her eyes searching his.
"Why don't I remember any of this?" she whispered.
"It's… complicated," Mr. Gold finally dropped his gaze. He turned and began to walk towards the stairs again. Belle followed, her heart pounding in her chest. "Regina—the woman who put you there—is a powerful woman. The only person more powerful than her here is myself. She doesn't like being vulnerable and most likely took you to try and have control over me."
"And this woman Regina, did she affect my memory somehow?" Belle panted, hurrying up the stairs behind him.
"I believe she did," he said glumly as they reached the upstairs landing. "For tonight this will have to be where you sleep as it holds the only other bed." He added, opening the door on the middle right of the hall, which she knew to be on the other side of his own room.
Belle stepped inside. It seemed rather cramped because of the shelves of what she saw (to her great pleasure) contained even more books, but it was still much larger than the dark room she was so used to inhabiting. She turned towards Mr. Gold, grasping his hand in her own.
"I have no idea how to thank you for giving me a home." Belle could hear a strange emotion in her tone that she didn't fully recognize. "I am lucky that a man like you cares about what happens to me."
Mr. Gold smiled sadly at her and kissed her hand which held his. "I wish that were true, dear. Good night." He turned and limped out of the room and closed the door, leaving Belle perplexed and alone.
She stood there a moment, lost in a strange room, before finally flipping off the light switch and crawling into her new bed. Even thought it was no bigger than the one she was used to, it was infinitely more comfortable. She pulled the thick blanket up to her chin and lay there, staring blankly at the books lining the wall across from her. The day's events raced through her mind in a blur of confusion: an escape from her prison thanks to a man who's face she couldn't remember properly thanks to the medication; her wandering around town until she saw the name she had been given on a shop sign; finding Mr. Gold and his emotional reaction to seeing her. Everything from that point on became clearer in her mind, and she ran through the conversations over and over, each time her heart squeezing with happiness.
Three women she'd never known had sought her out in a friendly gesture, and Saturday she would get to go out with them and experience being with people and having fun. Mr. Gold had given her a home and security but, what was more, he had made her feel things she never had. Belle couldn't remember feeling much of anything that wasn't lethargy, hopelessness or depression. She had felt many new things that day which she had never dreamed possible.
And on the other side of that wall, she knew, he was there. She wondered what he was doing. Unbidden in her mind came an image of Mr. Gold changing into his own pajamas. Blushing furiously and chastising herself, Belle rolled over and soon fell into a peaceful sleep, oblivious to the footsteps retreating quietly from her door as she drifted off into dreams.