Chocolate Cravings
"Chocolate verse #6"
A/N: This is the sequel to "Free Sample". Enjoy, dearies!
"So what's the occasion, Papa?" Bae asked as they all sat down to dinner in the Golds' dining room. There were small glasses of Moscato by each place, even Rhiannon had a tiny glass.
Rumple carried in the platter of chicken cutlets in a golden butter, lemon, garlic, and wine sauce and set it down in the middle of the table next to the broiled asparagus and rice pilaf. "You'll see, Bae," he said mysteriously.
Then he sat down next to Belle, who gave him a knowing grin.
"Are you opening up a new shop, Grandpa?" Rhee asked curiously.
Rumple shook his head. "No, dearie. Even though my antique business is doing excellently, I'm not quite ready to expand yet. At least not in that direction. However, we will be expanding our family."
Bae stared at him, his eyes huge. "You mean that you're—"
"Belle's expecting!" Rumple announced, sounding as if he'd won the New York lotto.
"Wow! You're gonna have another kid?" Rhiannon sounded as if the Virgin Birth had occurred again. She peered at her grandmother, to see if she was showing yet.
"Papa! At your age!" was all Bae could manage to sputter.
Rumple shot him a Look. "Yes, Baelfire, and my age has nothing to do with it. You know quite well that magic slows down a sorcerer's aging, so everything still works." He was mildly insulted about what his son was implying.
Rhee made a face. "Grandpa, TMI! Dad, really?"
Bae looked embarrassed. "Sorry, but it's just—a shock. Then again, I don't know why I'm surprised since I guess you always wanted more kids but . . ." he shrugged.
"I did. Your mother didn't. So that, as they say, is that," Rumple answered.
"You couldn't have been more surprised than Rumple," Belle put in. "He nearly fell out of bed when I told him!" she was smiling impishly.
Bae started laughing.
Rumple shot him another Look.
Eyes twinkling, Bae remarked, "Congratulations, both of you. So when's the new Gold due?"
"Well, I haven't gone to see the doctor yet, that's next, but from what I can figure-this is March- so . . . around December."
"A Christmas baby, Grandma!" exclaimed Rhee happily.
"Could be," Belle said, and lifted her glass of sparkling cider.
"Here's to a healthy and happy pregnancy, delivery, and baby!" Bae said, and they all clinked glasses and drank.
"So Dad, now that means you're gonna be a big brother," his daughter said, smirking mischievously. "And I'm gonna be a . . .umm . . ."
"A niece," Bae interjected.
"But I'll be older than my aunt or uncle," the nine-year-old pointed out.
"That's not so uncommon, dearie. Happened a lot in my old village," Rumple explained. "Some families had ten or more kids, and the older ones were adults before their younger siblings were out of diapers, and the older siblings married and had children while their younger sisters and brothers were still growing up. And I'd venture to say it happened here too."
"I don't mind. I can teach the baby everything I know, Grandpa. Hey, what do you want the baby to be? And do you think he or she will have magic like you?"
"It can be a boy or a girl, it doesn't matter to me," he answered. "As for having magic, since it's a True Love baby, it's bound to have some kind, but we'll have to wait and see. But even if it doesn't, that doesn't matter either. I'll love it either way."
"Now let's eat, before the food your grandpa cooked gets cold," Belle urged, then began eating her chicken and sighing in bliss. Her husband was not only a wonderful father and provider, he could cook too.
Bae smiled as he ate, recalling nostalgically how he had been over the moon when Sorcha had told him she was pregnant, and he saw that his father had the same look in his eyes now—of dreamy awe and happiness.
Page~*~*~*~Break
Two weeks later:
While shopping at some exclusive baby boutiques in Manhattan with Rhee, Belle passed a Chinese restaurant. The smells wafting from the establishment, which was called Ling's Kitchen, had both granddaughter and grandmother drooling. "You know, I could go for some chop suey right now," Belle announced.
"And I'd like some wonton soup and eggrolls," Rhee added. "And pork lo mien."
"Then let's get some for lunch," Belle decided. "We can get something for your grandpa too and your dad, since he's probably still busy painting the nursery and hasn't stopped for lunch."
"When Dad's working he forgets the world exists," Rhee said knowingly. She knew her father well, and sometimes Bae would concentrate so much on his art that he would forget to eat or sleep unless she reminded him.
"Then we'll have to remind him, sweetie," Belle smiled at the child. "But for now, let's have some Chinese." Mouth watering, they entered the restaurant.
Lately, she had been feeling hungrier than normal, and having strange food preferences and also aversions. For instance, she used to love eggplant and now she found she couldn't stand the sight or smell of it, and last night she had been craving something salty, like potato chips, and something bitter, like pickles. So she'd ended up eating salt and vinegar chips.
Belle wondered what she would crave today. Right then it seemed to be chop suey.
Page~*~*~*~Break
The Gold's nursery:
"Bae, I think you need to make the grass a little greener where the sheep are grazing," Rumple insisted.
His son halted, his paintbrush in the air. "Papa, I think I know how green the grass was in Scotland. I lived there, not you!" He was painting a Celtic theme on the nursery walls, since both new parents had decided that was neutral themed enough for either a boy or a girl.
Rumple let that go, then examined the other scenes painted so far. "Bae, why is this goat so scrawny? It looks like—"
"Because that's the goat I remember having as a kid, Papa. It was a black and white nanny called Patience, though the only thing I remember that she-bitch being patient about was patiently waiting to bite my ass every time I came to milk her," Bae retorted. He indicated the gleam in the goat's eye.
"She did have a bit of a temper," Rumple recalled now.
"A bit?" his son snorted. "I had bruises from her teeth like you beat me or something!"
"And when I threatened to sell her, you wouldn't let me," his father pointed out.
"Because the nasty thing gave the best milk and had the softest mohair around, and we needed the money that mohair brought in," Bae sighed. "I don't know why the cantankerous thing never bit you."
"She tried once. I whacked her across the nose so hard with my stick she saw stars," Rumple replied smugly. "After that she knew better."
Bae harrumphed, then began painting in some sheep gamboling about a Highland shepherdess he'd sketched.
Rumple eyed the sketch, then said, "Don't give that shepherdess a pink dress like Bo Peep, because unlike the nursery rhyme here, she wasn't looking for any lost sheep—she was a raider who stole sheep. Had a magical crook she used to summon them outta the pasture to her, and then they followed her wherever she went till she released the spell."
"Really? I never knew that."
"That's because she started getting known after you left," Rumple sighed. "But when she tried to steal my flock, her days of infamy ended. Because I had a spell on my sheep that any of them obtained by unlawful means turned red as blood—and then she couldn't hide them or sell them and everyone knew they'd been cursed and why and she was caught—red-handed as you might say."
"Because nobody steals from you, Papa," Bae chuckled. "Unless they're dumb."
"There's no shortage of stupid people, dearie." He went and examined a scene with a loch, and some purple mist and upon it swam a swan. This—was this what your home looked like there?"
Bae turned from shading in the shepherdess' green plaid and said softly, "Yeah, that was Loch Eala, how it looked in the gloaming with the mist on the water."
"Do you miss it?"
"Sometimes I do," Bae allowed. "I had some of the best moments of my life on that loch. Which is why I paint it so often. But you can't dwell on the past, you know. Or keep wishing for what will never be again. Maireann an chraobh ar an bhfál ach ní mhaireann an lámh do chuir." He murmured in Gaelic.
Rumple looked at him. "What's that mean?"
"It means—the branch lives the hedge though the hand that planted it be dead. In other words, we are all mortal and though we shall die our works shall live on. Sorcha lives on in Rhee and here—in my memory. And Castle Swan Flight still stands. Someday I may take Rhee back there, for a visit." He dipped his brush into his paint and began painting the shepherdess' hair, a soft auburn.
"Would you like to go this summer? Before the baby's born?" queried Rumple.
"Can't. Too many other commitments. I have a bunch of student art shows to do and my own also," Bae said. "But it can wait. Next summer I can make arrangements from the beginning with some of the other faculty."
Once he had finished the shepherdess, he began doing the border along the bottom near the chair rail, which consisted of mint green Celtic knots intermingled with gold claddaghs and fantastic beasts.
"You know, maybe you should put a rosebush here, along the pathway," Rumple mused.
Bae shot him an exasperated Look. "Now, Papa, don't start," he began, just as the girls walked in, carrying shopping bags and Chinese takeout.
"What'd you do, buy out the store?" Rumple queried.
"No, they still have half their inventory," Rhee giggled. "But there's another baby store we need to go to tomorrow."
"What could you possibly need that you haven't gotten today?" her grandfather sputtered.
"Grandpa, we only got clothes today," Rhee answered. "The kid's gonna need toys too."
"Maybe you'd better rent a U-Haul," Bae joked.
"Maybe I'd better get a second job," Rumple teased. "But right now, something smells delicious."
Belle looked around the room. "Bae, you've done a beautiful job."
"Dad, that goat looks like it's gonna come alive and jump off the wall," Rhee praised.
"Swanmay, you'd better hope not, because that goat was the meanest sonuvagun in Fairytale Land," Bae shuddered.
"A goat? But goats are cute and they eat tin cans," his daughter objected.
"This goat liked to eat pieces of me," Bae informed his daughter. "I'll tell you over lunch. Is that roast pork lo mien I smell?"
Page~*~*~*~Break
A week later:
Belle's nighttime cravings for strange things were getting worse. Two days ago she had eaten an entire jar of Spanish olives over fudge ripple swirl ice cream. The night before that it had been pretzels and salsa. Then leftover wonton soup with cheese curls in it. Rumple wasn't sure at times who was pregnant, because some of those God-awful combinations made him queasy and wanting to throw up! He couldn't understand why the smell of freshly cooked cheese omelets in the morning made Belle gag and run for the bathroom, yet at night she could scarf down triple pepperoni pizza bites, dill pickles, and bananas. It was utterly bewildering. Bae said it was pregnancy hormones, and it had happened to Sorcha too. Rumple wondered if Sorcha had had a cast iron stomach like his wife now appeared to have?
He was sitting in his favorite red leather chair, knitting a gold mohair blanket for their baby, while Belle had her feet up on her blue recliner, with a glass of ginger ale beside her and a copy of What to Expect When You're Expecting and she was watching The Brady Bunch. "The antique colonial cradle came today at the shop," he told her excitedly. This was a piece he had bought at auction a week ago, and had cost him a rather pretty penny, as it was an authentic Chippendale. But then again almost all of the furniture in the nursery were antiques, and the rocking chair was a piece carved by Shamus, the Lir family woodcarver, and shipped from Glen Eala to New York as a baby gift from Granny Lir and family. It had a carved swan motif—which was the Lir family crest.
"Oh, when's it coming here?" Belle asked eagerly. "I can't wait to see it."
"Tomorrow the delivery van's moving it here, dearie," Rumple told her, his knitting needles clicking softly.
Belle turned back to the TV, but then a rather impatient growl emerged from her stomach as a new craving made itself known.
"Hungry, dearie?" her husband teased.
"Rumple . . .do we have any Godiva chocolate?" Belle asked.
"Of course. We did win a year's supply of the peanut butter chocolate because your name got picked for the contest. Would you like some?" He started to get up and go into the back pantry where the chocolate bars were.
"Oh not that chocolate," Belle said, shaking her head. "I'm talking about the chocolate Rhee brought us to try last night—the new dark cherry decadence. It's their new flavor, remember?"
"I remember I only got a square, dearie, because someone ate it all," he chided playfully, waving a finger.
"Well, we were hungry," Belle said defensively, rubbing her tummy.
"This baby is going to come out eating chocolate if you don't quit craving it."
"I can't help it," his wife snapped. Lately her hormones were all over the place. One minute she felt giddy and almost high, the next she was crying and feeling like someone had died, and two minutes after that she was laughing her ass off at a Lawn Doctor commercial. "Next time you get pregnant and see how you like it, Rumplestiltskin!"
"Sorry, sweetheart, it's just . . . so odd to see you eating these . . .strange combinations of food. I mean last night you were eating peaches and soy sauce!" He grimaced.
"It tasted good!" she said, though she couldn't figure out why. "Rumple, can you please go out and get me some Godiva cherry chocolate? And some moo goo gai pan too? All of a sudden I'm starving!"
He gaped at her. "You want what? Moo goo gai pan and Godiva cherry chocolate? Now?"
"Yes, because tomorrow will be too late."
"Dearie, it's almost ten o'clock."
"So? Ling's Kitchen is open till twelve and the Godiva store isn't closed yet either," Belle persuaded.
Rumple dithered, for he really didn't want to go walking about the streets this late at night. But then Belle gave him puppy eyes. His heart started melting like ice cream in the summer sun.
"Rumple, please? I need that Godiva!" she said, a hint of panic in her voice. Suddenly the craving was like a monster, devouring her from within.
He set down his knitting. "Okay, dearie, don't have a cow!" he quipped as he went to get his coat.
"Not funny!" she glowered at him.
"Belle," he began in his most conciliatory tone, " what if I can't get the Godiva cherry chocolate? The store might be all out or-or closed."
She gave him a look like a starving wolf-if said wolf had had blue eyes and auburn fur. "Rumplestiltskin Gold, you make sure you come back with that chocolate or—or you don't bother coming home, got it?" she yelled, totally out of patience.
"You'd divorce me over chocolate?" he gaped. He'd never seen her like this before. She looked like a tiger ready to spring.
The foot rest hit the ground with a thump and she went and grabbed his hands, squeezing them tightly. "Listen to me, Mr. Gold! I . . .need . . .that chocolate . . .yesterday! The baby needs the chocolate!" Sweat was beading her forehead now and she felt feverish. "So you go out there and get the damn chocolate before this sends me into early labor!"
Nothing in all his three hundred years had ever prepared him for this! His compassionate loving wife had turned into a virago, a harpy that craved sweet things above all else, even her husband! Suddenly he was terrified. What if she was right? He didn't want anything to happen to his baby. And if this was how his sweet Belle behaved, he was lucky he hadn't been there when Milah was experiencing these hormonal cravings, because he would have been killed.
Rumple knew it was useless to argue. You never argued with a pregnant woman with cravings. Because they were like unruly wild animals. They would tear you to shreds and only afterwards weep over your dead body.
So he said the only acceptable thing under the circumstances. "Yes, dearie."
Then he went out the door, and prayed the Godiva store was still open.
As he shoved open the door to avoid a nuclear meltdown, the skies opened up and it began to rain buckets.
Somewhere up there, he thought mournfully, the heavenly host was hysterically laughing.
Page~*~*~*~Break
As Mr. Gold hurried through the torrential downpour to the Godiva store, finally getting into an alley where he could avoid being seen and teleport the rest of the way to the store, another player was entering Manhattan, intent upon murder and mayhem.
Killian Jones, aka Captain Hook, was a man on a mission. That part of the mission involved the murder of a certain Dark One did not bother his conscience at all. He was going to kill the beast once and for all. But first he had to retrieve a special object for Cora, the Queen of Hearts. That had been part of the deal for her helping him escape from jail, before Sheriff Swan could send him down the river to Boston Penitentiary. He was to recover the Once Upon a Time book for Cora, the book that Henry had foolishly given to Gold's upstart granddaughter as a keepsake. Now Cora needed it to tell all her enemies' weaknesses, and she had sent Hook to procure it for her.
Afterwards he could assassinate Rumplestiltskin.
No one except his mealy mouthed wife, wretched granddaughter, and artsy son would weep over his grave.
For a single instant, Hook felt a twinge when he thought of Baelfire, the boy he had betrayed so long ago. It was too bad the boy hadn't accepted his offer to become one of his crew. He would have made a fine pirate, like his mother. But Bae was too much like his coward papa, and refused, accusing Hook of breaking up his family. Ha! Milah had never loved the cripple she had married! And so Hook had brought him to Pan instead.
Then he brushed the brief flicker of regret aside. That had been long and long ago, and he owed nothing to Baelfire any longer. The boy had made his choice, and now he would regret it.
It was time for some payback.
Wearing a grin that many women considered swoonworthy, Hook began to stride down the street, letting the compass in his pocket, magicked to lead him straight to the Once Upon a Time book, draw him though the city streets to the antique shop.
Page~*~*~*~Break
Belle paced up and down the living room like a caged lioness. She could not bear to sit still. Her need for that particular chocolate, which only came out once a year, consumed her.
Through the growling of her stomach, she spoke to the baby, "Your father better come home soon with that chocolate or I swear I'm taking him to the cleaners!"
A part of her knew she was behaving like a mental patient, but the part that held sway now didn't care. She was a pregnant chocoholic and she needed that Godiva now.
Page~*~*~*~Break
Rumplestiltskin was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
"What do you mean you don't have any more?" he cried in horror. This couldn't be happening to him.
"Calm down, sir," soothed the salesclerk. "This is a very limited edition kind of flavor and so we only carry small quantities of it at a time."
"I know that, but can you please check in the back in your inventory? Because I have a pregnant wife at home who is ready to divorce me or worse if I don't bring her that cherry chocolate!"
"I'll do what I can, sir," the clerk said and she walked towards the stock room.
On the way there, she met another associate who asked what was going on. "It's nearly closing and you're going back to look for that chocolate now, Maureen?"
"I have to, Jerry. It's Mr. Gold, that nice customer who won the contest last month. He said his wife's got pregnancy cravings and needs that chocolate pronto!"
"Aww come on! Tell him to just get the strawberry mousse bar, she'll never know the difference!"
"Jerry, you're nuts! The strawberry mousse tastes nothing like the cherry chocolate supreme!" argued Maureen as she punched in the code to the stockroom. "No chocoholic or a pregnant woman will be fooled by it. You want to get the poor man slaughtered?"
The stockroom door opened and she entered, followed by her colleague.
"You've got to be kidding me!" Jerry chortled. "Death by chocolate! Over a stupid candy bar!"
Maureen gave him a withering look. "Jerry, you're an idiot. Obviously, you've never been around a pregnant woman before, because you have no clue what you're talking about."
She began to search through the boxes of chocolate.
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
In the main room of the store, Gold fought to keep from pacing like some caged animal. He was sweating bullets and he kept checking his watch. It was 10:15 and that meant he had only an hour and forty-five minutes to make it to Ling's Kitchen and pick up the moo goo gai pan. He went and punched in the number to the restaurant, and ordered the food while he waited for the woman to come back with the Godiva. He prayed to every god, goddess, spirit, and the Holy Trinity, plus all the heavenly host to please be merciful and let there be one Godiva cherry chocolate bar left in the store.
He wished he could simply conjure it up, but one of the laws of magic in this world was that you couldn't conjure or summon that which you didn't have any intimate knowledge of. Because he had never actually seen the entire bar of chocolate, only a small square, and that he could barely recall tasting, he wasn't familiar enough to summon up a bar of it. It made him want to scream, but those were the breaks. All magic came with a price.
He recalled Belle's face before he had left and felt a shudder go through him. She had reminded him of a maenaid, all strung out on wine and an almost junkie like rage. Chocoholic. He used to think that name was cute, funny even. But now it made him think that chocolate was a worse addiction than alcohol. Or dark magic.
Get ahold of yourself, Rumplestiltskin! You're acting like you're going to your own execution! A part of him scolded.
But he knew it would be his own execution if he came home without that chocolate.
Someone would surely die tonight—and it would probably be him.
Either that or he would end up a hobo begging on the street corner, his suit ripped and tattered, his Gucci loafers with holes in them, his tie in shreds, alone, friendless, crawling on the ground, with no money because Belle had thrown him out without his cane, wallet, or anything.
Minutes ticked by endlessly.
Please God, let there be some cherry chocolate. Even if they find a hidden stash in the manager's office, let there be some left!
He felt worse than he did when he had to face the rampaging maneating ogres back during the Ogre Wars. Monsters did not engender such dread as did going home emptyhanded without Belle's Godiva.
He would have laughed his ass off if he had heard this story from Bae, or anyone else, but now that it was happening to him it was driving him insane. He began to pace up and down, his cane tapping softly against the warn cocoa colored tiles.
It felt like the march of doom.
Page~*~*~*~Break
Meanwhile, in the stockroom, a diligent Maureen was going through countless boxes, searching.
"My God, give it up, Mo!" her coworker rolled his eyes. "Just go tell the old man, sorry, we're all out, and give him the complimentary bar of raspberry instead. I'm sure his little wife will understand."
Maureen glared at him. "That's not the point, Jerry! The point is I promised to look and I'm looking!" She couldn't explain why she felt compelled to go crazy, but she had seen the desperation in the man's face when he had come in. And she had a soft spot for old Scottish gentlemen in Armanis who actually smiled at her like they meant it.
Then she had an idea. "Jerry, go look in the office! Sometimes Sonya keeps the new limited editions in there! Move your ass! It's almost ten-thirty!" she barked.
"C'mon, Mo!" he whined.
"Fine! I'll go, and you keep looking here," she snapped. Then she darted out the door. "Lazy ass!"
Page~*~*~*~Break
In another part of town, a black clad figure with a hook was approaching the door of an antique shop, barely able to contain his excitement. He had seen the cover of the fairy tale book in the window by the light of a street lamp. Soon it would be his.
He pulled out a wire and began to pick the lock.
Cora had said that outside of Storybrooke, Gold would have no magic. So he could be robbed easily.
Smiling wolfishly, Hook rattled the lock.
It clicked open.
He grabbed the handle and turned it, thinking as he entered the shop, that book's mine, crocodile! As is your life!
But as his foot crossed the threshold searing bright purple and gold light exploded in front of his eyes, as the magical wards Gold had conjured to protect his shop from magical thieves reacted to the fact that Hook carried magic on his person and activated.
There was a whoosh as flames suddenly erupted all about the pirate.
The sound of a burglar alarm and sirens filled the night, drowning out the awful scream that followed.
Staggering away from the shop, Hook yanked the door shut and ran down the street, his face burnt and his hair on fire, only to collapse a few blocks down.
"Hey, man, are you okay?" called a passerby, but Hook did not answer.
Page~*~*~*~Break
In the Godiva store, Rumple was hyperventilating. It was almost ten-thirty and the salesclerk had not returned yet. That did not bode well for his chances. He began to say the rosary. "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee . . ."
Then he saw a slender boy hurrying down the aisle. For an instant, Gold was hopeful, until he saw that the boy held nothing in his hands. He felt his heart sink down to his shoes.
"Sir, I'm sorry but there's no more of that chocolate—" Jerry began, wanting to get rid of this annoying gentleman and start closing up shop.
"You're sure?" Gold asked, sounding as if he had just been told there was no more of a lifesaving vaccine available. "You looked everywhere?"
"Yeah, now look, here's a free bar of raspberry dark chocolate," the boy held out a bar of ordinary raspberry Godiva, a flavor you could get anywhere at any time.
Gold shook his head. "No, no you don't understand—I can't go home without this chocolate!" he cried desperately. "My wife is pregnant and under a lot of stress and she could go into early labor and have a miscarriage or divorce me if I don't find a damned bar of cherry chocolate Godiva right bloody NOW!" he bellowed, at a loss to make the boy see that this was of paramount importance.
Jerry backed away. "Flipping hells, you're crazy, old man!" he shouted.
"I am not crazy!" Gold yelled. "On second thought-hell yes I am! But if you had a pregnant wife craving cherry chocolate at this time of night in a bloody downpour who had just threatened you with divorce-you'd be crazy too!"
Rumple's eyes were wild, and his hair was beginning to stand up, as it dried and frizzed out. His coat was askew and he was waving his cane a bit to emphasize his urgency when Maureen appeared at a dead run.
"Mo, this old geezer is insane!" Jerry cried.
"Shut up, Jerry!" Maureen called. "Mr. Gold, I've got it!" she waved her hand triumphantly, clutching not one but two bars of cherry chocolate Godiva in her hand.
Gold crossed himself. "Thank God!" He was so happy he almost cried. Then he hugged Maureen. "You deserve a promotion, dearie! Where can I write your boss?"
Maureen was beaming. "You can go to our website. Now let's get you rung up. Celia, we have our last customer."
Gold took the precious bars of Godiva and went to the cashier. Finally something had gone right!
And he still had an hour or so left to pick up his Chinese.
He had just paid for his Chinese, which thankfully was waiting for him, when his cell rang. It was the security company for his shop. "Mr. Gold speaking."
"Mr. Gold, this is Guardian Security Systems. We're calling to report a break in at your antique store . . ."
"Shit!" he swore. "I'll be right over," he said, then he limped out the door of the Chinese restaurant.
Luckily the streets were almost deserted so he teleported swiftly home.
Belle nearly trampled him when he walked in the door. "Rumple! Did you get it?" she was almost salivating like a dog.
"Here, dearie," he shoved the bag with the Chinese food and the chocolate at her. "You eat. I just got a call from my security hotline. There's been a break-in at the shop. So I have to go down there and see if anything's missing. The police are there now."
Belle gasped. "A break-in! Rumple, be careful!"
He gave her a quick kiss. "I will, don't worry, the thief is gone." Then he teleported over to the shop arriving just as a police car pulled up.
Belle stood forlornly in the foyer, her arms holding the food she had requested. Worry for her husband now eclipsed the crazy hormonal urges she had been having, and now instead of craving chocolate, all she wanted was her husband.
Then she burst into tears.
Page~*~*~*~Break
Mr. Gold returned home at 11:15, after having checked over all the contents of the shop with the police. Nothing was missing, but the thief had jimmied the lock on the door. He was going to have a new one put on tomorrow. He found Belle huddled in his recliner, wearing his red plaid bathrobe, and biting her nails agitatedly.
"Belle, I'm back," he called. He looked like something the cat had dragged in, his hair mussed, and clothes rumpled.
Before he could make a move towards her, she ran to him, throwing her arms about him and hugging him for dear life. "Rumple! I'm so glad you're home! Was anything taken?"
"No, everything was there, the thief ran off, and I'm fine." He stared down at his petite wife and asked softly, "Sweetheart, why are you wearing my bathrobe?"
"Because . . .I needed to feel close to you," she answered, then she hugged him again, babbling, "I'm so sorry I was such a bitch to you! I made you go crazy . . ."
He silenced her with a kiss.
When they finally regained the power of speech, he said, "Belle, I would have gone to the moon and back if you asked me to, don't you know that? Because I love you and I love my child, and I will do anything for you."
She took his hands and gazed lovingly into his eyes. "I'm so lucky I married you, Rumple!" Then she kissed him back.
He grinned down at her impishly. "You know, you look pretty good in my robe. So . . .how did that cherry chocolate Godiva taste?"
"I didn't eat it. Because I was waiting for you," she admitted shyly. Then she grabbed his hand and drew him into the kitchen.
Laughing, he followed, thinking that now he was also starving, and it was good thing he had bought enough moo goo gai pan for two . . .and cherry chocolate Godiva. Ah, the perils and passion of living with a pregnant woman! He thought wryly. But he wouldn't trade it for all the gold in a dragon's hoard.
Page~*~*~*~Break
The next morning, Rumple got a text from Rhiannon. Grandpa, got a text from Henry this morning. He said that Cora has come to Storybrooke and broke Captain Hook out of jail. Henry thinks that he's crossed the town line because no one can find him. He also said that Hook told Emma he was gonna kill you. Please be careful!
"Rumple, what's wrong?" Belle asked upon catching his look of alarm.
"It's a text from Rhee." He told her what Henry had said.
"Do you think maybe Hook . . . was behind that break in last night? Maybe he ran off when the police came?" Belle surmised.
"I don't know." Gold said, then he went to pick up the paper lying on the mat.
He opened it to read while Belle made coffee and they had some breakfast sandwiches from the deli down the street, which had just been delivered. As he scanned the headlines, his jaw dropped.
Then he began laughing. "Oh, the irony!"
Belle eyed him. "What's so funny?"
"Read this, dearie!"
She took the paper from him. There, on the front page, was the headline-Unknown Man Found Badly Burned on Sidewalk, Delirious, Believes He's Captain Hook! An unknown homeless man was found last night on the sidewalk, his face badly burned as well as his hands, and was believed to have been set on fire, perhaps by some gang members that have been roaming the streets, so far has not identified any attackers. His face has been so badly damaged, doctors say it's unlikely he will ever recover without scarring. He was delirious and babbled continually about returning to his ship, the Jolly Roger. When asked to identify himself, he insisted his name was Captain Hook, and sometimes Killian Jones. When told that he must be mistaken, he grew violent and tried to stab the hospital staff with a hook that replaced his hand, which seemed to be coated with some kind of unknown poisonous substance. He also screamed to let him go so he could kill Rumplestiltskin! He has been evaluated by psychiatric professionals and labeled as a delusional psychopath with violent tendencies and shall be removed to a state psychiatric institution for the mentally unstable. He was found with nothing on him save a golden compass, believed to be stolen.
"Hook is here!" she cried.
"Here, but about to be locked up in the crazy ward, Belle. So he's no danger to us. He'll never get free. And I bet that we've gotten our thief also. If I had to guess, I'd say that Cora sent him here—to reclaim the fairy tale book from my shop. He located my shop with magic, and tried to get inside, and my wards recognized him as a threat to me and fried him. Hence the burns on him. Of course he wouldn't be able to say how he got his face and hands burnt. And the more he keeps insisting he's Hook, the more he's building a brick wall and will keep himself incarcerated. Unlike in Storybrooke, he has no allies here that would be willing to break him out of an asylum. Ironically, his fanatical pursuit of me has resulted in his own destruction, by his own hand."
"I always knew his heart was rotten," she said, closing her hand about her husband's. "If he could have, he might have waited in your shop to ambush you and poison you."
"True. But he didn't reckon on me being able to use magic here. His arrogance was his undoing." Rumple took a sip of coffee.
Just then there came a knock on the door. "Hey, Papa!" Bae called. "We brought breakfast."
Rumple waved a hand and let in his son and granddaughter.
Bae came in carrying a box of Dunkin Donuts, and Rhee had a Box of Joe.
"Are you guys okay?" Bae asked, concerned. "After Rhee got that text I started to worry."
"We're fine, Bae. And you don't need to worry about Hook, dearie." He showed Bae the paper and told him about the break-in.
"Hook broke into your shop?" Rhiannon exclaimed.
"Tried, dearie. But you don't break into a mage's shop and not pay a price, especially not with the intent to kill him in your heart and mind," Rumple told her. "My wards don't fool around. In fact, that wasn't the worst thing that happened last night. "
"There was something worse than the break-in?" Bae queried.
Rumple nodded. "Your mama wanted Godiva cherry chocolate and moo goo gai pan, so what was I supposed to do?"
Bae started snickering. "That sounds like something that happened to me when Sorcha was pregnant. She wanted strawberries—in the middle of winter in Scotland in the Highlands . . ."
"And what did you do, son?"
"I went out and got her strawberries, Papa."
"Otherwise Mama would have kicked his butt outta the castle!" Rhee giggled.
"Oh, I doubt that, dearie," Rumple disagreed. "Because no matter how irritated your mama got with him, she loved your papa too much to ever lose him. Right, Belle?"
Belle nodded. "No matter what, Rhee, I will always love your grandpa, and I will never risk losing him. We were separated for twenty-eight years, and I don't intend to spend another minute apart from him."
"Because true love is forever," Bae said softly. No one knew that better than he did.
"And better than chocolate!" Rhee sang.
"Maybe," Belle grinned, then she winked at her husband.