Being Neighborly

Chocolate verse #11

That winter was one of the worst New Yorkers could recall, with a record blizzard that dumped over two feet of snow onto the city and left thousands without heat or electricity. The city ground to a halt and everyone was shut into their houses until the storm passed and left frozen cold tragedy in its wake. The Golds had all gathered in the brownstone, because it still had power and heat and running water. Bae and Rhee's apartment near the university had lost power at the outset of the storm, and so they had made their way to Gold's brownstone as snow poured from the sky. The university was closed for a record four days while snow crews with plows attempted to dig out the parking lots and sidewalks. Classes were cancelled and Bae had managed to charge his phone and was waiting for a call from the dean's office to tell when classes were to resume.

Gold decided to check out how his shop had fared during the blizzard, and despite protests from his wife and son, pulled on his thick sheepskin coat, gloves, hat, and scarf and with his cane prepared to venture out into the winter wonderland that the city had become.

"Papa, at least let me go with you," Bae argued. "You shouldn't wander around the city by yourself."

"Grandpa, I'll come with you," Rhee offered. "Dad, chill. It's only four blocks from here."

"The snow might have made it impassable, Rumple," Belle argued.

Carina burbled from her infant seat.

"Belle, if I can't get there, I'll turn around and go home," Gold replied. He looked at Rhee. "Dearie, you sure you want to come with me?"

"Sure! I'm sick of being inside," his granddaughter declared. "I'm gonna go stir crazy."

"All right. But if you run into problems, call me or text me," Bae sighed. He thought about going with them, but didn't like to leave Belle and the baby alone. Who knew what kind of desperate souls this storm would bring out?

"We will," Rumple hugged his son and kissed his wife and daughter goodbye. "I'll be back, dearies!" he said, making his voice deeper and playfully imitating Arnold from Terminator.

Rhee giggled. "C'mon, Grandpa! Let's go before all the snow melts."

Rumple coughed. "That would take Heat Miser, swanmay," he reminded, then he playfully tugged Rhee's pink and white striped hat with the wing shaped ear-flaps over her eyes. "Oh no!" he crowed in mock-dismay. "It's dark in here!"

Then he winked and ducked through the front door.

"Hey!" Rhee shouted, after she had shoved the hat off of her eyes. "No fair, you pulling a fast one on me!"

"Better hurry, swanmay," Bae teased. "Before your grandfather reaches the store before you."

Rhee snorted. "Umm . . .right, Dad. Only in your dreams."

But when she went outside, she was astonished to see her lame grandpa a good distance down the sidewalk, limping along quickly through the salt encrusted pavement, his cane clicking lightly over the slush.

The elderly antique store owner and part-time magician glanced up as his grandchild hurried over to him, her new Ugg pink boots crunching through the salty slush, her flyaway brown hair confined by her hat, her cheeks slightly pink with cold. "Well, dearie, looks like the cleanup is underway." He pointed to a John Deere green backhoe that was slowly removing snow froma street.

"That's good, right?" she said, gazing up at the mountains of snow higher than her head that lined the avenues and boulevards. "Then people can have power again and not freeze to death."

"Yes," Gold agreed, wondering where the homeless of the city had gone to find shelter. He knew the public shelters were probably filled to capacity.

As they passed an alleyway from the small Italian specialty shop, there came a soft bark, as of an animal in distress.

Rhee froze. "Grandpa, look, there's a dog over there," she pointed to a scruffy looking gray wirehaired dog with triangular ears and a white chest. He was about medium height and had soulful brown eyes. He whined and pawed at what looked like a heap of snow covered fabric.

"I see him, Rhee," murmured Gold. "He's a stray that Tony Rizzoli feeds sometimes." He indicated the sign, half covered with snow, that was gaily painted with red and green and gold paint advertizing Rizzoli's Italian Market.

"Maybe he's hungry," Rhee said, then she held out a piece of roll she had in her pocket for the birds in Central Park that she had forgotten about. "Here, boy."

"Rhee, be careful. If he's hungry, he may snap at you," Gold warned.

But his intrepid grandchild was not afraid, perhaps because of her innate heritage, she approached the stray without fear. "Here, you want some bread?" she crooned.

The dog wagged his tail and slurped her hand, eating the offering. But then he pawed at the heap of snow again and whined.

"What's this?" Rhee knelt. "Is this where you slept?" Then she blinked hard and cried, "Grandpa! C'mere! There's a man here! And I don't know if he's breathing! He's awful cold!"

"Why, it's Tony!" exclaimed Rumple, kneeling down and brushing the snow from his neighboring storekeeper's face. A trickle of blood seemed to have frozen across his face and into his hairline. "He must have slipped and fallen here on the ice. Rhee, call 911." He ordered, checking for a pulse.

It was faint, but it was there. Gold breathed a sigh of relief. Tony had been one of the first to welcome newcomer Gold to New York when he had opened his shop and had brought him a Grand Opening basket filled with all kinds of Italian food, including pasta and cookies and pastries he had made himself. The elderly man, he was around sixty-five, was a widower who ran his shop alone, as his children were grown and lived in other parts of the country.

As Rhee told the dispatcher where they were and what type of emergency it was, Gold brushed the snow off of his neighbor and gently whispered a spell to warm him gradually, hoping that might help. He dared not do more, or else invite commentary from the paramedics, plus he was unsure if his neighbor had more serious internal injuries from the fall, and he decided that unless it were a life or death situation, he would avoid trying to mend him with his newly acquired white magic. He didn't want the elderly Italian to accrue a debt to him he'd be unable to pay.

The stray gray dog, who Tony had taken to calling Tramp after the famous Disney mutt, whined and pawed at Gold's trouser leg. He licked the elderly man's face.

"Hey now, none of that," scolded Gold gently. He shoved Tramp's head away. "I know you mean well but your tongue has germs."

Tramp barked and Gold looked up as sirens blared and an ambulance arrived on the scene.

Page~*~*~*~Break

"Hello, Rumple?" Belle answered her cell on the first ring. "You're where? In the hospital?"

"Now, don't get upset, sweetheart. I'm here because I'm filling out some paperwork for Mr. Rizzoli. We found him lying in the alley beside his store, covered with snow and unconscious. Actually, Rhee found him, thanks to that stray mutt, Tramp he always feeds . . ."

"Oh, how terrible! That poor man! Will he be okay?" Belle exclaimed.

"Yes, I think so. He has a slight concussion and some mild hypothermia and a broken ankle. But he's conscious and I spoke to him briefly before they put him upstairs in a room. He's given me the key to his apartment above the shop and asked me to please feed his cat and Tramp while he's in the hospital."

"Maybe I'd better come over and help clean up his apartment too," Belle suggested. "Bae can watch Carina for a little bit, can't you, Bae?"

"Sure, Mama," Bae agreed.

"All right. Let me get some lunch here and see what is going on with Tony and we'll see about getting a taxi back home," Gold told her. "See you soon, bye."

As he hung up his cell, Rhee approached him with a large balloon that said Get Well Soon with a large smiley face on it, and also a bag with a box of limited edition Godiva Christmas truffles and some crossword puzzles and a paperback by Terry Brooks. "Grandpa, I bought these for a get well gift for Tony," she handed him the change and the receipt.

"That's fine, Rhee. Now let's go back up to his room and see what he says," Rumple urged, and they rode the elevator back up to where Tony was convalescing.

The little Italian was delighted to see Mr. Gold and Rhee again, and he accepted the gifts with a smile. "Gratzie, signorina," he said in Italian, his dark eyes crinkling with warmth. "You are too kind!" He smiled at Mr. Gold. "Roberto, you have brought up this bambina right. And thank you again for looking after my pets."

Like many of his contemporaries here in the city, Tony knew him as Robert Gold, antique dealer. Only his family called him by his "nickname". "No trouble at all, Tony. What are friends for? I'm glad you like the chocolate and if you need anything, you have my number." He pointed to a piece of paper with his cell number on it.

"Well, the doc says I'm probably going to have surgery on my ankle in two days and then they'll see how it goes. I may be here for a few more days, depending." He rubbed his head. "I'm lucky my old head is so hard. Testadura!" he chuckled. "And luckier that you and the little one found me." He crossed himself. "Thanks be to God."

"Do you know what time you'll be out of surgery?" Gold queried.

"Sometimes after ten o'clock. I have an early appointment," replied the elderly man. He seemed a little nervous.

Gold saw and sat down, saying soothingly, "I'm sure the surgery will go fine. Would you like a cup of coffee? There's a vending machine down the hall."

"I . . .well . . .umm . . .if you don't mind."

"I don't," the other reassured him. Then he rose to get the coffee, after asking how Tony liked his coffee.

Unbeknownest to anyone, Gold added a few drops of a soothing elixir he had in his coat pocket, he sometimes carried some on him when Carina was colicky, it helped soothe her irritable tummy so she could sleep. He figured it would help his neighbor as well.

He handed Tony the coffee and the man took a large sip of it. "Ahh! Not as good as my espresso, but good enough." He saluted Gold with the plastic cup before taking another sip.

They stayed and visited with the lonely older man until Tony began to nod off, and Gold whispered, "Sleep well, my friend."

Rhee eyed him a little suspiciously. "Grandpa, what'd you do?" she whispered as she stepped close to him, her pink hat clutched in one hand. "Did you magic him?"

"Umm . . . I gave him a few drops of my soothing elixir in his coffee so he would quit worrying about his surgery and sleep," he admitted.

"Oh. Like you do for Carina sometimes, right?" she asked knowingly.

"Yes, but only when she's truly hurting and won't sleep any other way," he acknowledged. 'Now come on, we need to get a cab back home and pick up your grandma so we can feed the cat and the dog for Tony."

Page~*~*~*~Break

Luckily, Carina was asleep when Gold and Rhee returned and Bae decided to make some popcorn and watch reruns of M*A*S*H on TV while they went out to feed the animals. He offered to make Rhee some cinnamon hot cocoa but she declined saying that she'd have one after she helped feed Tramp and Figaro, which was the name of Tony's black and white cat. "Dad, when can we get a pet?" she wheedled.

"Hmm . . .well, maybe for your birthday," Bae agreed, since Rhee was old enough now to care for one and if he went away the animal would be looked after by Rumple or Belle if necessary, along with his daughter.

Rhee ran and kissed him. "Dad, you're the best!" she singsonged.

Bae laughed. "I hope you still say that after your report card comes in." He tweaked her nose playfully.

"Dad! I never get bad marks!"

"Yeah, I forgot. You got your grandpa's brains," her dad smirked.

"I'm glad somebody did," Rumple teased back.

"Papa!" Bae cried, scandalized.

Rumple giggled impishly. "Gotcha, boy!"

Belle swatted at him. "Come on, Mr. Gold. Before that poor puppy and kitty starve to death!"

"All right. We can't have that, now can we?" he acquiesced.

Page~*~*~*~Break

When they arrived at Tony's apartment, they found Tramp waiting patiently in the snow beside the back entrance, which Rumple used the key Tony gave him to enter. They found the place smelled slightly of marinara sauce and garlic, and it seemed as though Tony had been cleaning up after dinner before he took his fall. He had said he went out to give Tramp a beef neckbone, since it was Saturday, and slipped upon a patch of black ice and fallen. He didn't know how it was that he had survived the night, except perhaps that Tramp had kept him warm by lying on him or beside him. "It must have been God's will," he had said piously. "The Lord made all creatures, great and small, and he loveth best he that loveth them all."

Rumple had nodded. "You did that stray a good turn and so he did one for you. Animals give us the best part of themselves." He often remembered fondly the sheepdog he and Bae used to have back in the Enchanted Forest.

People back in Storybrooke often thought he had no heart when he was the Dark One, but they had been wrong. His heart had been corrupted, true, but part of it still felt compassion for the beasts of the field and the air and even at his worst he never mistreated an animal or caused one deliberate harm.

Belle looked at the sink filled with dirty dishes and muttered, "I'll wash these while you feed the dog, Rumple. Rhee, maybe you can dry Tramp with an old towel and see if you can find Figaro. Maybe she's shy around new people."

"Okay, Grammy," Rhee agreed, and went searching for an old towel. Soon she found one in a small linen closet and went outside to dry the scruffy dog and then she let him into the apartment. "Because why should you be out here in the cold?" she said.

Rumple had found some dog biscuits and a plate of meat with sauce in the fridge, as Tony had said. He pulled it out and put it in a pie tin that the shopkeeper had set aside for Tramp and heated it with his magic so the food was warm. "Dearie, are you sure he ought to be in here?" he asked Rhee upon seeing Tramp sitting in the entry way. "He might have fleas."

"He doesn't. I know," she reassured him, her amber eyes glinting uncannily from the illumination of the lightbulb in the ceiling.

"All right, but if Tony ends up with fleas . . ." he sighed, and set the food down for the dog to eat, along with another bowl of water.

Tramp began eating hungrily, and Rumple washed his hands and said, "Have you found Figaro yet, dearie?"

"Umm . . . no," Rhee sighed.

"Let's look in the bedroom," Rumple suggested.

They carefully went down the hall to the bedroom, and Rumple called, "Figaro! Figaro!" and made smooching noises.

Just then they heard a soft sound, almost like a baby crying, and Rhee put a hand to her mouth and cried, "Oh, look! There, on the bed!"

In the middle of the quilt was a black and white cat, looking rather proud as she nursed her litter of four kittens. There was a calico, another black and white kitten, a silver tabby, and a tiny little brown fuzzy one with huge amber eyes.

Rumple's eyes widened. "Umm . . . well . . .it would have been nice if Tony has told me that Figaro was a she—and she was about to have kittens!"

"Oh! They're adorable!" Rhee crooned, peering at them. "Look, this one likes me!" she squealed as the calico one, which had very pretty markings, crawled over and nuzzled her hand. The little girl looked enraptured as she stroked the baby's head and it squeaked.

Rumple smiled at the beautiful scene and took out his phone to take a picture. "Careful, Rhee. They look like they were born recently, see they don't have their eyes or ears open yet."

He pointed to the kitten's face, which still had her eyes sealed and her little ears crimped closed.

Figaro meowed softly and looked at Rumple questioningly, as if to say, "Hello! I've just had four kittens and I'm hungry!"

"Grandpa, I think she's hungry," Rhee reminded him.

"Yes, I know. Keep your fur on, sweetheart," Rumple muttered, then went to see where Tony kept the cat food.

Unable to find the canned food, he found some Italian tunafish instead, drained it and flaked it into a bowl with some hard boiled eggs and then served it to Figaro with some cat milk he found on a shelf beside the tuna.

"Oh, Rumple! How darling!" Belle exclaimed as she followed them into the bedroom.

While Figaro ate, her kittens cuddled in a heap on the quilt, mewing and nudging each other blindly.

"Grammy, do you think I can have a kitten when they're bigger?" Rhee asked Belle eagerly.

"Well, if Tony says you may, I don't see why not," Belle mused, thinking that after her granddaughter had saved his life, Tony would have given her the moon on a gilded platter if she wanted. "Which one do you like?"

"This one," Rhee pointed to the calico. "She licked my hand."

"She looks like a little beauty," Belle said, smiling.

"And she's the boss too," remarked her husband, as they watched the kittens rooting in the quilt and the way the calico pushed the others out of the way to get the warmest spot. The antique dealer sat on the bed and gently lifted the smallest kitten and placed him next to his siblings. "There you go, little lad. Poor scrap, you almost were shoved off the bed!"

"Aww!" Rhee whispered. "Grandpa, how come the others aren't careful with the little guy?"

"Well, dearie, he's the runt . . .so sometimes when you're small like this—you tend to get pushed around a lot," sighed her grandfather, thinking how that had been true when he was a child.

"But that's not fair," Rhee objected. "Just because he's little, he gets treated differently!"

"No, but that's sometimes how it is," agreed Rumple. Then he winced as the tiny kitten nibbled his finger. "But see? This one's a fighter. He thinks he can get milk from my finger!"

He pulled his finger away and the frustrated kitten squeaked angrily.

Figaro looked up from eating her dinner and growled, then jumped back on the bed and glared at the human who had invaded her space. Her emerald eyes glittered warningly and her tail lashed.

"Rumple, she looks like she thinks you're hurting her babies," Belle warned.

The magician got to his feet slowly, his hands held out. "Now, relax, dearie. I wasn't hurting your son," he began in conciliatory tones.

Figaro inspected her family, gently licking and purring over them, and then lay down among them. They all curled up next to her, kneading her side and she began to groom herself.

"Well, looks like we can be leaving now," Rumple began.

"Grandpa, we can't leave them here!" Rhee objected. "They need lots of care and Figaro needs to eat more than once a day if she has babies."

Rumple raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Uh huh. I saw it on Animal Planet!"

"Rumple, Rhee's right. We can't just leave them here. We don't know when Tony will be home," Belle seconded.

"Belle, what do I look like—the ASPCA?" Rumple grumbled. Then he saw two sets of familiar pleading puppy dog eyes—one amber and one blue. "Don't!" he yelped.

"Don't what?" Belle asked innocently, still looking at him.

"Don't do that—that thing you do with your eyes!" he sputtered, glancing away, only to encounter Rhiannon. "Not you too! Arrgh! I'm surrounded!" He glanced straight ahead, only to see Tramp sitting in the doorway, also giving him the Look.

The formerly most-feared sorcerer in Storybrooke threw up his hands.

"Okay! Okay! I give up!"

"Then we can take them home with us?" Belle squealed.

"Yes . . ." her husband grumped, pretending to be put out. It wouldn't do to let his womenfolk see how he was manipulated by a pair of puppydog eyes.

"What are you looking at?" he demanded of Tramp.

Tramp whuffed and wagged his tail, as if saying, What about me?

"Grandpa, we can't leave Tramp," Rhee insisted. "It's cold and he can't stay here alone, no one will let him out."

"He might not be housetrained," Belle added. "And we wouldn't want him to wreck Tony's apartment."

Rumple sputtered and huffed.

The two women exchanged knowing glances behind his back.

"But . . .he's a stray . . . he could get fleas on Carina . . ." he protested.

"Gra-a-ndpa," Rhee drew out the syllables of his name. "I told you, he doesn't have fleas."

"What, now you're a vet?" he snorted, frowning at her.

She gave him back an equally stubborn glare. "No, I'm a swanmay. And I know."

"She's a chip off the old teacup, Rumple," his wife reminded him aggravatingly.

" . . .but he could mess up our house . . ." he argued stubbornly.

"I don't mind," Belle said serenely.

"But . . ."

Tramp gave him puppy dog eyes again.

I'm such a pushover! He groaned.

Then his granddaughter came and gave him one of her super special hugs and declared, "Grandpa, I love you and you're the best!"

No! Not that! he thought as his stubbornness melted away like Godiva under the summer sun at her small arms hugging him and her words which made his heart nearly burst with adoration. "No wonder your papa can refuse you nothing," he muttered, and kissed her on the top of her head. "My little conniving dearie."

"Then Tramp can come too?" Belle persisted.

"Yes, Tramp too," Rumple agreed, then he muttered, and now my house has become the Gold NYC Animal Refuge! When did I become such a fluffy marshmallow?

Then he felt his wife's lips upon his cheek and he thought, who cares if this is the reward it brings me?

Page~*~*~*~Break

Bae's eyes widened in shock when his parents and daughter returned a few hours later with their new guests in tow. "Thought you were gonna go and feed them, not invite them over!"

"Blame your daughter," his father replied, setting the box with the dishes down on the table.

"Dad, look at the kittens!" Rhee said, setting the box with Figaro and the four kittens down beside the fireplace. "Maybe Mr. Rizzoli will let me have one."

Bae came to peer at them. "Aww, they are really cute!" He put his arm around his daughter. "We'll see, swanmay."

"Maybe I can ask him tomorrow," Rhee suggested."

"Good idea, now why don't you take a bath and get ready for bed?" Bae suggested.

"How was my pretty girl?" asked Belle of her stepson.

"Good as . . .gold," he grinned. "She's still asleep."

He bent to pet Tramp. "Hiya, boy." He wrinkled his nose. "Hmm, maybe you need a bath too."

"Don't remind me," the pawnbroker groused. "That was your daughter's doing."

"Ah. Let me guess. She told you how you were the best, right?" Bae chuckled.

Rumple cast his eyes heavenward. "I couldn't refuse her."

"Nobody can," Bae laughed. "But at least she comes by it honestly."

"What's that supposed to mean, Baelfire?" Rumple demanded testily.

"Oh . . . well no one break deals with you, Papa. And no one refuses deals with your granddaughter," Bae pointed out slyly.

"See? What did I tell you?" Belle gloated.

Rumple turned away, unwilling to admit they were right. Then he pointed at Tramp. "Scat, dog! Take a bath or something!"

Tramp shook his head, sneezed, then trotted out of the kitchen.

A few moments later they heard a loud splash, then Rhee calling, "Hey! What is this—a party?" from the bathroom.

"What happened?" Bae called up the stairs.

"Umm . . . Tramp jumped in the bathtub!"

Rumple groaned. Somebody shoot me!

And that was only the beginning.

A/N: Hope you liked this first part! What will happen now as Rumple now has a stray dog, a family of cats, plus a new baby to deal with as another storm hits? Hope he doesn't have kittens! Written for my good friend TS to cheer her up since her dad is in the hospital and hope her dad is better soon!