Storybrooke, 1995

Lacey French was kind of surprised at how much she didn't mind cleaning houses. She wasn't by nature a hard worker. At least that's what everyone had always said, anyway – or at least since high school She hadn't really seen much of a point in exerting herself for a mile run first thing in the morning, and it had just gone downhill from there. Why would you want to run around in circles around a gym? Just because some old guy who wore shorts for a living was yelling at you? That was more Lacey's definition of a war crime than a productive use of her time, so she'd skipped gym to hang out under the bleachers with the older kids and that's how she'd tasted her first cigarette.

Later, after her mum had died, she'd started applying this philosophy of 'why should I?' to other areas of her schooling, and Lacey French went from being bright with a bit of promise to lazy and on a bad road. It wasn't that she couldn't work if she didn't want to, but somehow learning how to calculate the area of a triangle hadn't seemed as important in a world where a woman could be there with you one minute and gone the next. She'd started cutting more classes, spending time out behind the auto tech building with the older guys, dragging Ruby along when they asked her to bring a friend. Both girls had learned to kiss back there (either with the boys or each other) and how to drink just enough vodka from a shared bottle to make everything hurt a little less but not enough that you'd be stumbling home drunk off your ass.

No, work didn't come naturally to Lacey, and she'd raised avoiding it to an art form. So of course, here she was on her hands and knees scrubbing Gold's floor and not actually minding it. The scrubbing wasn't really something she did a lot, usually a quick mop was plenty to clean up the light dirt that the man managed to track into his kitchen. It was spring, though, and he'd paid extra to have her come in for overtime to spend an entire Saturday taking the whole damn place apart and cleaning it top to bottom. She hated losing some of her weekend to cleaning up after him, but when her boss had told her how much extra he would actually be paying her to come in saying no had ceased to be an option. There would be an extra zero in her paycheck this week, on top of whatever he decided to tip her, and Gold was a damn good tipper.

She didn't really get that man at all. He was paying way more than market value to get her to come spend an entire day at his house. He could have hired a hooker for way less than what he was paying her. Hell, no matter what she'd told him about being able to do better than him if she did decide become a prostitute, she'd have been tempted to take him up on the offer if he'd made it.

Ruby thought Gold had a thing for Lacey, but the idea of Mr. Gold the landlord having a thing for anybody was pretty far fetched in general. Lacey had a hard time thinking about him wearing anything less than a three piece suit. If he'd ever had sex before, she was sure he must have left all his clothes on and just unzipped.

"How's the grout looking?" Gold's voice broke into her thoughts.

She sat up as quick as she could and spun around, narrowly avoiding spilling sudsy water everywhere. It was amazing how many things that man could find to do in whatever room she happened to be in. Maybe he just happened to be a fetishist who really liked to watch women clean his home?

"The grout is fine," she replied. "Although frankly if you're that worried about it maybe you should get wood in here. Or something besides tile, anyway. It's always going to be impossible to keep it clean."

"Or maybe I should just keep paying you," he replied with a shrug and a grin. "The windows look very good, though. Almost can't tell they're there."

"They do, don't they?" she replied with a smug self-satisfaction. "And by May you'll have the pile of bird carcasses on the porch to prove it."

"Oh good," he said. "That should help maintain my fearsome reputation."

"Pawnbroker, landlord, bird murderer?"

"Everybody needs a hobby," he replied lightly. "Is this your last room for the downstairs?"

"Yeah," she said, leaning back and stretching her spine. "So you might want to go hide whatever you've got in your bedroom you don't want me to see, I'll be in there next."

Gold just chuckled and walked out, presumably not to flush a bag of cocaine down the toilet or anything like that. Yeah, Lacey was pretty surprised at how much she didn't mind cleaning, but she was really fucking surprised how much she actually enjoyed spending time with Mr. Gold.

Storybrooke, 2011

Rumpelstiltskin hadn't really slept at all after his conversation with Belle the previous night. Even though she'd said she wanted to try and raise the baby together, there had been a part of him that was just waiting for her to come knock on his bedroom door and say she'd changed her mind and wanted him gone. The knock had never come, and the only noise he'd heard after he retreated to the guest bedroom he'd moved into after Emma's arrival had been a soft padding between the linen closet and the room where she'd lost her virginity. At least someone was finally changing those damn sheets.

As soon as it seemed like a reasonable hour to be awake, he'd quietly made his way downstairs to cook breakfast. This, at least, was something constructive he could do to maybe stay on her good side and to perhaps start the long road of apologizing for how big a fool he'd been. Rumpelstiltskin was a man who prided himself on being clever, and yet he'd believed Regina unconditionally when she'd said Belle had left. He wasn't sure if he hoped the Hatter had succeeded or not, because while it would be rather delightful to take his own vengeance, he had more important things to focus on right now besides Regina. Bae, Belle, and the baby – those three people had to be his priority. Bae, Belle, and the baby.

Belle wasn't as quiet now as she used to be, what with the pregnancy, and he heard her coming down the stairs. He turned to greet her when she came into the kitchen, but he hadn't been prepared for how she still took his breath away. It was strange, because Gold had seen Lacey first thing in the morning thousands of times, but he didn't remember Lacey ever being as beautiful as Belle. She had on a simple cotton maternity dress, the sort with a high waistline and a low neck. He didn't remember when Lacey had bought this one, but he did vaguely remember her griping about how hard it had been to find anything that looked good on her in maternity stores. She'd been right, this one was beautiful on Belle but it never would have suited Lacey at all. Belle had put her hair in a loose braid and hadn't bothered with shoes yet. She was smiling softly at him from the doorway and he forgot how to breathe for a minute.

"Hey," she said after a little bit. "Something smells good."

"Yes," he replied instantly, returning to his pan. "I thought you might be hungry."

"I am," she said as he heard her pulling one of the stools at the breakfast bar out and sitting on it. "How long have you been awake?"

"I didn't sleep much," he admitted. "I had a lot on my mind."

"Me too," she said as he plated up the eggs and bacon he'd prepared and put a kettle onto the stove.

The conversation was awkward, small talk between two people who should have been beyond that by now. Rumpelstiltskin was terrified to bring up anything of substance for fear of reminding Belle of all the ways he'd failed her, and he wasn't sure what her reason for avoiding those same topics with him was. It was civil, at least. She'd promised to want him in their daughter's life and to try to be friendly with him, and he'd accepted readily because it had been more than he'd hoped for and certainly more than he'd had from Milah. There was a part of him, though, that was desperate for something more – something close to the life they'd had before or even close to the life that Lacey and Gold had lived. He didn't think Belle would be as easily impressed as her alter-ego, though, no matter how much easier that would have made his life.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked as he set a plate down for her.

"Yes, please," she said almost reflexively as she took up her fork and tasted her food. "This is really good. I didn't know you cooked."

"I can keep you from starving, at least," he demurred, though it was certainly true that he was a better cook than she'd ever been. "And anyway, it's just eggs."

He set a mug of tea on the table in front of her before taking a seat across from her. It was an odd sense of deja vu to sit here with her and discuss nothing and everything at the same time over a plate of simple food. Lacey had cooked for Gold the morning after they slept together, he remembered. He'd been completely lost as to how to deal with her then, too, and something told him this meal wouldn't end on nearly so promising a note.

"So," she said. "What are we doing today?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not an idiot, Rumple," she replied with a shrug. "I know you still have to go find your son and you brought magic here for a reason."

She was going to help him, he dimly realized.

"You don't have to help," he said. "I certainly don't expect you to do anything for me you don't want to."

"It's not like I have a lot else to do besides gestate a human being," she said simply. "And I can do that and help you at the same time. He's your son and my baby's brother. We're a family now, no matter how that happened."

Even after everything he'd done to her, she'd decided to help him find Baelfire without even knowing the boy's name.

"Alright," he replied, trying hard to swallow past the lump in his throat. "I don't have much of a plan yet, though."

"We can work on it together," she offered. "I'm good at research."

"I'm sure," he said, looking down into his tea as though that held answers for the questions he wasn't quite up to asking. "His name is Baelfire, by the way."

"Baelfire," Belle said slowly like she was testing how the name felt. "That's a nice name."

He was about to agree when the doorbell rang, followed by a pounding. Belle jumped down off her stool before he could stop her and was well on her way to the door before his brain managed to catch up with what was going on. He made it to the living room just in time to see her checking the peephole before opening the door cautiously.

"Can I help you?" she asked, paying no attention as he came up behind her.

"I'm looking for Rumpelstiltskin," a voice he recognized as belonging to Prince Charming said. "Is he here?"

"He is," Belle said with a little nod. "And who are you?"

"Ah, Charming," Rumpelstilskin said, moving slightly in front of Belle as he addressed the other man. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"What do you know about portals?" the prince demanded.

"More than you, certainly," Rumpelstiltskin replied. "Care to elaborate?"

Charming rolled his eyes.

"Somehow," the other man began, glaring all the while. "The Mad Hatter acquired a wraith and tried to sic it on Regina."

Belle gave a little snort from behind him, and Rumpelstiltskin himself was hard pressed to care.

"And what does that have to do with me?"

"We tried to open a portal and send it to an empty realm," Charming replied. "Emma and Snow fell through."

"And Regina?" Rumpelstiltskin asked.

"She's fine," Charming said with just a hint of bitterness seeping in. "We managed to banish the wraith."

"That's a pity," Rumpelstiltskin replied. "You sacrificed your wife and child to save the queen."

Charming bristled at that, but before he could say anything Belle had moved forward and put her hand on Rumpelstiltskin's arm.

"What do you need, Prince James?" she said calmly.

"I was hoping your..." he gestured at Rumpelstiltskin in confusion as he looked at Belle. "I was hoping Rumpelstiltskin would have some idea of how to open a portal."

"I'm afraid that was never my area of expertise," Rumpelstiltskin replied. "I used Jefferson for all my realm jumping needs. Have you tried asking him?"

"He says he can't fix it," Charming said. "Something about the hat not working."

"Well, then there's your answer," Rumpelstiltskin stepped back and prepared to shut the door. "Do give my condolences to young Henry."

Charming slammed his hand on the door and stepped forward to prevent his closing it.

"You wouldn't happen to know how the Hatter got a wraith, would you?"

"What are you implying, dearie?" Rumpelstiltskin said darkly. "You already have a powerful enemy in Regina, and so far you've been privileged to be in my good graces."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Not at all," Rumpelstiltskin replied, glancing toward Belle. "I am, however, the only one who can keep Regina in check and – lucky you – she's given me an excellent reason to want her power limited. Unless you'd prefer to distract me from that course of action so I can go on a wild goose chase with you then I suggest you go back and talk to the Hatter and leave me to keep your precious town safe."

Charming glared (well, as much as he seemed capable of glaring) at Rumpelstiltskin, but he eventually nodded and turned towards Belle.

"Let me know if you ever need any help," he said as he stepped out of the doorway. "I'll be at the sheriff's station."

Rumpelstiltskin shut the door and turned to walk back towards the kitchen. It took him a few moments before he realized Belle wasn't following him. He turned back and she was standing leaning against the door with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Belle?"

"I'm fine," she said softly, but he could hear the tears in her voice.

"What's wrong?"

"Henry Mills lost his mother," she replied before breaking out in big choking sobs. "That poor boy."

"It'll be fine," he replied as soothingly as he could, going back to her and stopping just short of hugging her. "They're back in the Enchanted Forest."

"But how are they going to get back?" she said with a sniffle. "There's no way to travel between the realms."

She was still sobbing and he felt so helpless to make her stop.

"I'm sure they'll figure something out," he said as soothingly as he could. "Emma's the savior, after all, and there's a magical ability in that. If anyone can come back, it's her."

Belle nodded hopefully, tears still staining her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she said, swiping at her eyes. "I'm just really emotional about this sort of thing right now."

"Right, of course," he replied, feeling like an idiot. Of course she was emotional about parents right now, he'd been stupid not to anticipate it. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No," she murmured. "I'll be okay."

He felt like such a failure. He should know how to help her through this, but he had no ideas. He'd missed Milah's pregnancy entirely and been avoiding Lacey like the plague until the last few weeks. He wasn't even sure if Belle would want to be comforted. He was in over his head, and he had no idea if he'd even find his feet again.

Bae, Belle, the baby, he reminded himself. He couldn't do anything for Bae yet, but Belle and the baby were right here.