"Well?" Belle inquired with a sunny smile as she pulled the Cadillac into her and her son's new home.
Gideon French glanced up from his phone to survey the decrepit house his mother was "forcing" him to move into. If he were still in his goth phase he would have appraised her choice, but since he'd reverted back to society's acceptable standards for well over six months, he found the house before him a dump.
"It's great. I hope the rats plan to split the water bill."
Belle gave her son an indulgent look and stepped out of the car. Her son had had a rough year and she knew he needed to let his steam off in choppy sarcastic remarks, which she allowed as long as he didn't cross the line ].
"It's got so much potential." Belle encouraged as she intertwined her arm with her son's. "It's the oldest house on the east coast, nearly 150 years old. Oh look at these stained-glass windows!" She arched on her tiptoes to give her boy a kiss on the cheek. "And most importantly, it's all ours."
Gideon allowed his mother to pull him to the porch, watching his step just in case the ancient wood gave way. He reached out to peel a line of curling pain from the wall.
"What color is this, digested Pepto-Bismol?"
"I think it's called salmon. And don't do that." She ordered, pulling his hand back.
"Is the paint holding this house together?" Gideon quipped.
Belle sighed, the exhaustion of the six-hour drive and her son's overall pessimism dampening her cheery mood.
Gideon glanced at her defeated look and forced a supporting smile.
"It's great mom, really. It's just…different. I need a little time to get used to it."
Belle smiled and rested her weary head against his arm. She really had a great son despite everything.
Belle had gotten pregnant at a rather early age by her then boyfriend Will Scarlet. The look of disappointment on her mother's face when she told her parents made Belle blush with shame even 17 years later. Will, despite being impulsively immature, agreed to support her in whatever she decided to do. With her mother's vague advice to "do the brave thing", Belle decided to keep the baby. Will unfortunately couldn't kick into his paternal instincts and he and Belle separated quietly. Other than a few sporadic child-support payments, he hadn't kept in contact with Belle or his son.
Belle and Gideon moved in with Belle's parents and found contentment in their small family and lived comfortably for many years. It wasn't until the sudden death of the French family matriarch that the peaceful existence shattered. Mr. French sold his house and moved back to the family home in Australia to grieve, and rather than make her son start over in a whole new country, Belle took her half of the money and started looking for a new place to live.
It was during a grueling night of research that she came across an opened librarian's position in a town called Storybrooke, Maine. A few more clicks and she discovered a house for sale in the same area. It was too good to be true, especially when she saw that the house was priced at just what was in her budget.
Gideon had been less enthusiastic about leaving the city but had no choice but to follow his mother into the unknown.
"A fresh paint of coat and curtains and it'll be good as new." Belle promised.
Gideon sighed. "If you say so mum."
A loud pop broke the two from their musing. They turned to see a Ford truck pull in just behind the Cadillac, a petite woman with long black hair rushing out, nearly dropping the load of files she was carrying.
"Hi!" she greeted breathlessly, stopping at the first step. "Sorry I'm late!"
"No problem." Belle assured. "You must be the real estate agent."
The woman nodded and extended her hand. "Mary Margaret Nolan, it's nice to meet you!"
Belle shook her hand and nodded towards her son. "This is my son Gideon."
"Oh how nice." Mary Margaret smiled. "You're about the same age as my son." She turned back towards the truck. "Neal!"
The passenger door of the truck opened and a blond teen stepped out, removing his headphones unpleasantly.
A series of looks was shot between the two before the boy stomped up the stairs beside Mrs. Nolan.
"This is my son, Neal." Mary Margaret introduced through clenched teeth and strangely putting a hand on his shoulder to keep him from going up the steps. "He's…helping me today."
"You mean I'm your prisoner for today." Neal muttered.
"Neal." Mary Margaret growled in a warning tone Belle recognized from any mother. She could also recognize that Neal was trying not to roll his eyes.
"It's lovely to meet you, Neal." Belle jumped in.
"Ma'am." Neal greeted, a twinge of relief in inspiring green eyes.
"This is Gideon." Belle introduced. She glanced at her son to signal him to introduce himself but found her son staring at Neal with just a hint of blush on his sharp cheeks.
Belle contained her amused smile, knowing instantly that her son was smitten. She glanced at the Nolans, finding Mary Margaret seemingly oblivious while Neal looked down at the porch with a slight smirk on his lips.
"So anyway." Mary Margaret intervened, pulling a manila folder out of the stack. "Here's a copy of the deed, the skeleton key and the spares to the garage and the basement."
Belle took hold of the mass of keys with one hand and the deed with the others. The second her fingertips grazed the manila envelope a violent burst of wind swept over the porch, causing the papers to flee into the yard.
Neal and Mary Margaret raced down the steps to catch the papers. Just as Gideon and Belle were about to help them, the wind shifted, causing the old house to creak and—the Frenchs would swear by it—laugh. It was a deep mocking sound, almost childlike but much more sinister.
"Well that's not ominous at all." Gideon said, standing a bit too closely to his mum than a 17-year-old boy usually would.
"Sorry about that." Mary Margaret apologized as she trotted back up the stairs. "Early autumn is always when these bursts of winds pick up."
"And the foreshadowing of doom?" Gideon deadpanned, staring at the realtor uneasily.
Mary Margaret frowned and seemed to pale a bit. "I…"
Belle stepped between her and her son. "Pay him no mind. Would you like to come in?"
"No!" Mary Margaret gasped, causing Belle and the boys to jump. "I mean…I…we can't. We have…other houses to go to."
Beside her Neal rolled his eyes.
"Come along Neal." Mary Margaret said in a sickeningly sweet tone.
Neal looked like he wanted to say something but was dragged back to the truck.
Belle and Gideon stared after the car before turning back to the house. Their new home.
"It's not too late to buy plane tickets to Australia." Gideon told his mother. "Maybe I'll like the Outback."
Belle almost agreed with him, but her mother's words rang through her mind.
Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.
It had worked when she was pregnant, it would work with her new home.
"A little wind isn't going to scare me away. Come on, let's see what the inside looks like."
"Oh come on!" Gideon whined as Belle dragged him through the front door.
Luckily the inside of the house wasn't nearly as disastrous as the outside would have it perceived, though there were some obvious problems that Belle could address just from an initial observation.
The wood floors were in need of a polishing and the walls of washing. Luckily, the furniture that had come with the house had been covered and in great condition, abet a few decades outdated.
"How about we start with paint and cleaning supplies and go from there?"
Lighting one of the decorative candelabras (which Gideon found hilariously dramatic), they headed upstairs.
"It's colder than a politician's heart up here!" Gideon seethed, shivering as they reached the bedrooms.
"We'll sleep downstairs tonight by the fire." Belle amended. "This looks like the master bedroom."
They stepped inside, holding the candle away from the plastics covering the furniture. It was spacious enough and the bed seemed to be a good size.
Belle sat the candle on top of the dresser and led her son to the bed. Together they jumped on top of it to test the mattress, an instant mistake they realized when they nearly sunk to their deaths and choked on the dust.
Belle arched off the bed when something stabbed her thigh.
"What the…"
Gideon scooted over, feeling the mattress. "I think it's a loose spring."
Belle pressed down until the tip of the "spring" was pressing into her palm.
"Gideon, press the mattress down why I try to pull it out." Belle requested.
Gideon pushed down until the tip of the object burst further from mattress. Both he and his mother were surprised to find the tip of something much thicker than a spring pointing up at them.
"It…looks like the tip of a knife." theorized Belle. She circled the opening to stretch it out.
"You could be touching a murder weapon!" Gideon hissed.
"Don't be ridiculous." said Belle as she stretched the hole just enough to pull the knife out of the mattress. Belle finally presented a heavy, wavy knife that glinted in the limited light.
"Whoa." Gideon exclaimed. "Who would hide this here?"
Belle shook her head, turning the strange knife over in her hand.
"There's something written on it." Belle said, feeling the shape of the indented letters.
Gideon shot around, swearing he heard a sound come from across the room.
Belle lifted the dagger to the light, tracing the letters as she sounded them out.
"Rum…ple…st…stiltskin?"
"What?"
Belle and Gideon shot around to see a man standing in the doorway. Belle quickly jumped in front of her son and Gideon gripped her shoulders.
"Who…who are you? Why are you in my house?"
"You're house? You poor confused dear."
The man stepped into the room, the dim lights bouncing off the strange substance on his skin. Belle stared at his strange leather clothing and scaly skin, the feel of Gideon against her back the only thing keeping her calm.
"What are you?" Gideon asked.
The corner of the man's smirking mouth twitched.
"My my what a rude question." The man said with a disapproving click of his tongue. "I'm not a what."
"You sure?" Gideon muttered.
"I don't care what you are." Belle growled. "Get out of my house before I call the police."
The man giggled. "Quite the waste of a call dearie." He took a step forward and Belle pushed Gideon onto the bed, turning quickly to grab the knife from the floor and point it at the intruder.
"Stay back!"
The man stopped, his amused smirk fading quickly.
"I'll take that!" He exclaimed, snatching the blade from her hand. "You shouldn't play with knives dearie! You'll get cut!"
Belle stepped firmly between her and her son, leaving just enough of a gap for him to run if things got violent.
"I don't know who you are or how long you've been squatting here," Belle spoke, "but this is our home now. You need to leave. I'll…help you get where you need to go—"
"Seriously mom? Now is not the time to be charitable!" Gideon hissed behind her.
"But that's it." Belle finished.
The man smirked bitterly, leaning against the ancient dresser, rubbing the knife between his hands.
"Trust me dearie, I'd like nothing more than to leave this place. Unfortunately for us both, that's not possible."
"And just why not?"
He glanced briefly at the dagger straightened his stance, scoffing when Belle jumped.
"I supposed introductions are in order." He bowed with a flourish, confusing mother and son both.
"I'm Rumplestiltskin." He sang, the name rolling off his tongue unnaturally. He lifted his head and smirked at the duo. "Consider me your residential haunter…until you leave, that is."
"Our what?" Belle exclaimed.
"I'm bound to this house, have been for some time." He stated with a nonchalant shrug. "It's mine."
"As in bound by a contract or something?" Gideon asked.
"Or something." Rumplestiltskin scoffed.
Belle recognized a deep-seated bitterness in his voice and almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
He was still an intruder in her home after all.
"I don't believe this." Belle scoffed.
"Oh believe it dearie." Rumplestiltskin growled. "Believe it and be scared!"
"Threatening me won't do you any good." Belle fought.
"And denying what is happening before you won't help you escape the inevitable, dearie!" Rumplestiltskin fought back.
"Inevitable what?" Belle shouted. "What is going on?"
Rumplestiltskin exuberantly rolled his eyes. "I don't have time to go over every detail with you dearie!"
"Yeah you do." Gideon said. "You just said you were a ghost."
Rumplestiltskin glared at Gideon. "I'm real enough to teach you some manners boy!"
"No!" Belle shouted, rushing towards to tackle him. She underestimated the distance between them and tripped over the carpet. She braced for the impact of the hard floor but was shocked when she fell into a pair of cold arms, her face landing into an equally cold chest. She gasped at the feel, feeling like she was drowning in ice water. She looked up and found a surprising warmth in his wide, reptilian gold eyes, but the cold from his form was more overpowering and his hands were slowly trying to phase through her arms.
"Mom!" Gideon cried, carefully grabbed Belle at the elbows and pulling her from Rumplestiltskin's grip.
Rumplestiltskin's shocked looked faded quickly and he howled with laughter, smirking gleefully at her son's glare.
"You are bold dearie, I'll give you that. But be careful where you hurl yourself in this house. You might get hurt."
"Mom, let's just go before he really hurts us." Gideon hissed in her ear.
A high-pitched maniacal sound left Rumplestiltskin's throat. "I couldn't hurt you even if I wanted to, boy. The dead can't harm the living! What a stupid thought."
Belle rolled her eyes. "Will you just leave us alone?"
He pondered for a moment and then shrugged. "No."
"No?"
"As I've said, it's my house and I hate uninvited guests. I can't harm you, but I won't let you make yourselves comfortable here."
"You think you can scare us off?" Belle scoffed.
"I know I can, and I'm going to enjoy doing it."
With that said, her strutted past her and Belle shuttered at the coolness that followed. The moment he was past the doorway the lights went off and Belle in her son were drowned in candlelight once more.
"Son of a bitch!" Gideon gasped, falling back on his mother's bed.
"Language." Belle said instinctively, but her mind was focused more on the creature that had just shaken her to the core. This was unbelievable! Did Mrs. Nolan know about him? Did she really sell her a "haunted" house?
She had half a mind to march down to her office and rip her a new one, but that would hardly do her any good tonight. Tomorrow morning maybe. Tonight, she needed to unpack and figure out a game plan. There was no way that thing was going to kick her out of her new home!
Still, there was Gideon's safety to consider.
"What do you think?" Belle asked uncertainly.
"I think it's going to take a lot more than a coat of paint and a few curtains to fix this."
Belle scoffed, patting her son on the back. "I mean do you want to stay somewhere else tonight? I think there's a B&B across town."
Gideon gave his mother a sly smirk. "You're not afraid, are you mum?"
"I'm more annoyed than anything." Belle admitted, flopping down on the bed. "I wanted us to have a fresh start Gideon, a new beginning. And of course, I choose a haunted house to do it in."
A light giggle echoed through the room and Gideon scooted closer to his mum…to protect her of course.
"This is going to be a nightmare."
Belle sat up, looking around the room that was supposed to serve as her bedroom. She had planned to move a bookshelf in here. To bring out her mother's teal and coral quilt for the bed. She had so many plans for this place, plans to make it her and Gideon's. Could she still do it? It was a hard decision to make when her sole priority was to keep her son safe, even if it was from a creature that couldn't hurt him.
Gideon noticed his mother's pensive expression and mused on what to do. As much as he'd like to hightail it to the next town and never look back, he just couldn't let his mom go through with that. His Grandma used to tell her to do the brave thing, it was time to do the same.
"Maybe we…sleep on it?"
Belle turned to her son, her brave boy who inherited the best parts of her.
"We'll sleep downstairs tonight." She said, taking her boy's hand and heading downstairs.
Just above them, Rumplestiltskin the residential haunter watched from the staircase as his new house guests prepared their selves for bed. They were a funny duo, and far braver than the other people who had run screaming into the night the second they found out their house was possessed.
He was a bit bitter that he hadn't won on the first round, but was nowhere near ready to forfeit the challenge.
The French's would leave, it would just take the right persuasion.