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Chapter 2

"Jill! Jill! Jill! Jill! Jill!" Jack shouted as he raced into the house. He pounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Skidding to a stop outside the master bedroom, he leaned over, his chest heaving.

Dropping the bucket of soapy water, the mop clattering against Carrara tile floor, Jill flew out of the master bath. "What in the world?" she screamed. "Jack? Jack, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he answered in confusion. "I just wanted to tell you that I finished the yard." He beamed at her. "First, I cut the yard. Then, I edged it. Then, I trimmed the hedges. That was hard." He held up three fingers, counting off each item. "Then, I cleaned up, and now I'm done."

"Jack Hillyard," she exclaimed, her hand over her clutching her chest, "you nearly gave me a heart attack." She purposely slowed her breathing to regain her calm. "Okay, Jack," she said gently to her crestfallen brother, "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I was afraid something terrible had happened. I was worried about you."

He scrubbed a dirty hand through his tousled curls and nodded thoughtfully. "So, I shouldn't yell unless I'm hurt, right?" When she nodded, he smiled in understanding. "Okay, only if I'm hurt." He popped the collar of his grimy shirt back into his mouth and chewed.

"Oh, Jack," she said fondly. She reached and pulled the shirt from his mouth. "Don't chew on your collar. Now, go put away all of the tools in the van. Then come back up here and help me finish up."

"Okay, Jill," Jack said. "I hope Mr. Gold will like his house. It looks really pretty now."

"Yeah, it does," she agreed. "Hopefully, he'll hire us full-time. All right, Jack, go finish up, and close the door when you go out." She watched him walked sedately back down the stairs, carefully closing the door behind himself. She couldn't help but smile ruefully as she head back to the bathroom.

"Damn," she muttered as she surveyed the soapy water covering the bathroom floor. Stepping over the mop bucket, she inadvertently set her foot down on the mop. The wet mop suddenly shot out from under her foot, flinging her forward. Jill tried vainly to catch herself, but she wasn't able to stop. Head first, she slammed into the granite counter top. By the time she slid to the floor, she was out cold.

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"Thank you for driving us to Granny's dinner," Snow told Mr. Gold. "And thank you for the lunch." Under the table, she nudged her friend in the shin.

Belle jumped, took a sip of cola, and set the glass down. She glared at Snow. "It was very nice of you," she said with a neutral tone.

"You're quite welcome," Mr. Gold said. He leaned back and stretched his arm out along the back of the booth, where it nearly touched Belle.

Silence settled around the table. Gold tried desperately to catch Belle's eye, but when he failed, he stood. "Yes, well, if you'll excuse me, I'll just pay the bill." He straightened his jacket, trying one more time to catch Belle's eye. After another, longer awkward silence, he walked over to the register, his shoulders drooping.

"Belle," Snow hissed, "you're being rude, you know? He is trying."

Her blue eyes flashing with fire, Belle met Snow head on. "Stop trying to get us back together," she ordered angrily. "I am not ready to forgive him. I might not ever forgive him."

"Whether or not you two get back together is your business," she shot back. "But I'm not going to sit back and watch you behave rudely. I don't accept that kind of behavior from my students, and I'd like to think you'd behave with a bit more maturity! No matter what he's done or not done, there is never an excuse for bad manners!"

"Bad manners?" she squeaked. "Rude? Just how have I been rude?"

"Belle, you completely ignored him the entire meal except to snap at him every time he spoke to you," Snow said with an exasperated sigh. "For heaven's sake, you argued with the man about how much catsup he put on his fries!"

Belle's lips began to twitch, and soon a smile pulled the corners of her mouth upward. She sighed and laughed ruefully. "I did, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," Snow huffed with a laugh. "And just to make you happy, the poor man ordered a new batch of fries, which he promptly gave to you."

"I ate them all, too, didn't I?" Belle laughed. "I suppose I do owe him an apology."

"Who?" Gold asked simply. He had returned to the table.

"You," Belle told him. "Now, I'm not saying I'm forgiving you," she told him. She watched the hopeful expression in this eyes drain away. "But, I have behaved badly today, and I apologize."

He furrowed his brow and swallowed hard. "It's a start, Belle," he told her tenderly. A remorseful smile played about his mouth. "If we could just talk - " he held out his hands, halting her anger "- just talk, Belle, then maybe we could find a way to get back together?"

"No, Rumple, I've told you -"

He interrupted. "All right, all right," he conceded, "let's agree to say 'not yet.' After all neither of us can predict the future, can we? I mean, who'd have ever thought we'd fall in love to begin with? Yeah?"

He looked so hopeful, so repentant, so desperate, that Belle couldn't crush his hopes, especially since Snow had just nudged her under the table again. "I'm making no promises, Rumple," she told him. "You've hurt me so many times, and -"

"I know, darling, I know," he dared interrupt her again. He squared his shoulders and glanced at Mary Margaret, remember that the other young woman was listening. "No matter how we decide things between us, Belle, we'll need to be on cordial terms for the child's sake."

She actually smiled at that. "Agreed," she told him. Carefully, she climbed out of the booth, shooing off his help. "But, Rumple," she added, "I want a neutral party present when we talk."

He frowned, cutting an angry look at Snow White. "Why?" he demanded, suddenly suspicious.

"Because I want one," she snapped, "that's why. You can choose. Would you rather speak to me with Snow or Archie present?" She crossed her arms, pulling her dress tight against her growing belly. "Or perhaps you'd like to do our talking between lawyers?"

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With every step on the stairs, Jack loudly whispered his sister's name. "Jill! Jill! Jill! Jill! Jill!" He stopped just inside the master bedroom. "You told me to be quiet and come help you," he said aloud. Walking into the master bath, he saw his sister lying in a puddle of cold, soapy water. "You shouldn't be sleeping. Not in a puddle like that," he said.

She didn't answer him, so he knelt beside her. "Jill?" He grabbed her by the shoulder and gently shook her. "Wake up, lazy." When that failed to wake her, he shook her harder, but she still lay there in the water. Sitting back on his heels, fear filled him, and he felt a rising scream. Immediately, he clamped his hands over his mouth to stifle it.

"Okay, okay," he thought. "Jill said I can't yell unless I'm hurt, and I'm not hurt, but she is, so what do I do?" He twisted his hands together, unsure what to do. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision. "Got to get help," he told her unconscious form. "But I can't leave you in a puddle."

Bending forward, Jack scooped her up in his arms and carefully carried her out of the bathroom. "You weigh a lot for a girl," he told her. "Can't carry you down the stairs." He looked around the room, seeking a spot to put her. "I'll put you here," he told her as he placed her on the bed.

Stepping back, he eyed her critically. "That's not right," he told her. "You're cold from that water." Taking the far corner of the comforter, he pulled in over her. "But what if you get too hot? I sometimes get too hot and kick off my blankets," he told her. "I know! I'll uncover part of you."

Rearranging the covers, so that her long, bare legs and upper back was free, he seemed satisfied. Okay," he said, patting her bare back. "I'll run faster than fast and go get help, but I won't yell 'cause you said I could only yell if I was hurt, and I'm not hurt."

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Mr. Gold clenched his jaw together, fighting his anger, knowing it would only fuel her defiance. He inhaled deeply and held the breath before slowly releasing it. "Okay, Belle, if that's what you want, I'll compromise by agreeing to have a mediator." He faced Snow. "Mrs. Nolan, would you be so kind as take the part of a mediator for Mrs. Gold and myself this afternoon?" There, he thought, let's just remind you that you are still my wife.

Snow looked back and forth between the two. "Oh-kay," she agreed slowly. "If that's what you both want."

"Thank you," Gold said, immediately taking charge of the conversation. "And, since I have compromised by agreeing to your suggestion, I would like for you to agree to continue this conversation at -"

"No, Rumple," she told him. "We are not going home."

"Ah," he responded, "but you are still thinking of it as 'home'." He smiled sadly and showed her his best puppy dog eyes.

"No!" Belle hissed.

"Why ever not?" he demanded, trying desperately not to let frustration seep into his voice.

She answered instantly, jamming her hand on her hips. "I want a neutral place for our conversations."

"You insisted on a neutral party to be in attendance, and you named Mrs. Nolan or Dr. Hopper, both of whom are your friends," Gold argued coolly. He jerked a thumb at Snow White. "Your 'neutral' choices aren't neutral at all, Belle. You simply want a friend there to prevent you from admitting that you still love me, and that's not fair."

Belle opened her mouth to complain, but she didn't get the chance.

"He's right, Belle," Snow said softly. "Archie and I are your friends, and we'll both be inclined to see things your way, especially since we've had less than amiable encounters with Gold." She touched Belle's arm. "I don't know if he's right about the other. Maybe your continued anger with him is because you still love him and are afraid of those feelings. I don't know."

Belle was shaking with anger. "So, you're taking his side?"

"No," Snow told her. "But I'm not taking yours either, not if I'm to be a neutral party to this." She removed her hand from her friend's arm. "You do still want me to negotiate your discussion, don't you?"

Pulling Rumple's handkerchief out of her purse, Belle dabbed the tears from her eyes. "Yes," she sighed. "I do." She turned to her estranged husband and handed him back the handkerchief. "All right, Rumple," she said, squaring her shoulders, "we'll take this to the house."

He smiled gently and inclined his head. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "Mrs. Nolan? Mrs. Gold?" Holding out his arm, he gestured towards the door. "Your carriage awaits."