"Belle." Her name escaped his lips like a prayer, and he took her in his arms. "Is it really you?"
Of course it was her. He'd know those clear blue eyes anywhere. It was her. It was his Belle, back from the dead. His heart felt as if it might burst. Belle!
It took several seconds for him to realize that her hands were trying to gently push him away. He let her go, confused. She took a step back and politely smiled at him in clear embarrassment.
"I'm so sorry, but...do we know each other?"
The world turned in a strange away again and Gold felt every joy he'd ever felt being sucked from him, dismay taking its place. He took a step after her, raising his hand to her, and mentally noted he'd stepped ankle-deep into the same puddle he'd just saved her from.
It was her. She was alive. But she didn't remember him. The curse had brought her back from the grave, and it had taken her memories. Taken them as easily as it had taken the rest of the people of Storybrooke.
He mentally shook himself, but was unable to remove the look of wonder and confusion entirely from his face.
"No." He said quietly, more to himself than her. He dropped his hand and removed his foot from the puddle. "No, but you will."
"Pardon?" Belle asked, ever so polite, even when he was certain he was coming off as a lunatic.
"Never you mind, Dearie," Gold responded, and his voice trembled. He cleared this throat. "Are you alright?"
It was then that Belle seemed to notice her ruined groceries and wet, sodden clothes. He'd meant emotionally, mentally, was she alright? Was she happy here? How had she managed to avoid him for twenty eight years in this small town? There were a million questions contained in those three little words, but Belle simply knelt to pick up the dented cans and bruised fruit in response.
"So clumsy of me.."
He was at her side in a second, sidestepping the water and grasping her upper arm gently.
"Leave the lot, dearie. It's fared worse than you, it seems. Groceries can be replaced."
But you can't be. Not in a thousand worlds over a million years. Oh, the things he wanted to say to this poor, poor young woman who had no idea who he was. She'd think him some crazy old pervert.
Isn't that what you are? A voice in his asked him. He kept himself from scowling at the thought.
She looked up at him to protest just leaving the groceries in the street, but the world became a singular, terribly bright hue as lightning struck. Gold could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand at its proximity, and he was momentarily blinded; his nerve endings sizzled with the electricity. He didn't even have time to register shock before thunder exploded around them, shaking the street. Belle cried out in surprise.
He didn't realize the two of them were running until they passed from under the protection of the store's awning and became instantly drenched with rain. He looked over to see Belle staring at him, wide-eyed. He'd dragged her with him to the middle of the street in his need to escape danger; his hand was still grasping her upper arm. She was stumbling awkwardly, trying to keep up.
He dragged her the last few steps and let her go when they reached the other side of the street, and she slumped against his shoulder. He could see over her head that lightning had struck the grocery store, not a hundred yards from where they'd been standing. There was a smoldering hole in the roof where an antenna had been, and smoke was rising hazily from it. He suddenly didn't care about her thinking him a stranger. He didn't like her being out in this weather. He didn't like her being in danger. He was going to get her to safety.
He leaned down to shout in her ear above the noise of the storm.
"My shop is just down the next street! We'll be out of the rain! It will be safe there!"
Belle began to turn as he put his hand on the small of her back to lead her, and he cringed as she noticed the store. Her voice rose an octave in alarm.
"But those people could be hurt! It looks like the lightning started a fire!"
"They're fine!" He tried to nudge her in the direction of his shop, and felt her stiffen with resolve. She turned and looked up at him. She may have lost her memories, but he hadn't, and he recognized Belle's stubborn determination when he saw it.
"Damnit Belle!" He shouted, tempted to pick her up like a disobedient child and run when another flash of lightning lit the sky, the thunder following not a second later. Still too close. He didn't like that. A pinging sound caught his ear and he broke eye contact with her for just long enough to notice hail beginning to bounce off the cobblestones in the road.
"Let the fire department take care of it, Belle! We need to get out of the weather! We could have been killed!"
"But those people!"
"They will be fine!" He howled, his temper fraying. Those people could burn for all he cared. The entire town could burn. Belle was here, and he was beginning to remember why she drove him insane. She could be so damndably stubborn. "Please, Belle! I'll call the Fire Department. But we aren't doing any good risking ourselves. Now, lets' go. I won't ask again!"
There was anger burning in her eyes, and he could tell she wanted to tell him off for forcing her to bend to his will, but to his relief she followed him at a hurried pace down the block to his shop. He dialed up Swan on the way and angrily explained the situation to her, hanging up the moment he was finished. He used the rest of the walk to regain control over his temper. No one got under his skin like Belle did. He was both frustrated and relieved that, memories or no, that hadn't changed about her.
By the time they arrived his limp had become severe, and he cursed himself for leaving his cane behind in the damn puddle. As he hastily dug the keys from his pocket outside his shop and switched his weight to his bad leg he winced. His leg immediately protested holding his weight, and had nearly given out beneath him. So much for a walk loosening the damaged muscle.
He'd never forgotten she was standing beside him as he brooded, but he was still surprised by the feel of her gentle fingers on his forearm. He looked over and met her worried cerulean eyes with his own cautious ones.
"Are you alright?"
Her kind, innocent words were nearly his undoing. Was he alright? No, he wasn't alright. He'd lived countless years thinking she was dead, and now she was standing next to him with her big blue eyes, thinking him some crippled stranger.
"I'll be better when we're safely inside," He barked, instantly feeling guilty at the way his harsh tone made her bristle.
"Thank you." He amended quickly. "But I'm fine, Dearie. Please, let's not stand out here getting wetter than we already are." She nodded and to his dismay, shifted her weight and tightened her grip on his arm to help him walk.
She must really think I'm disabled, He thought sourly. He didn't want to refuse her help though, realizing that her helping him through the doorway was her quiet way of letting him know she forgave him for snapping at her.
He allowed her to guide him inside, giving her just enough weight to believe that she was helping him.
It made him feel enfeebled just the same. Weak. And he was not weak.
Once beyond the foyer he gently untangled his arm from hers and walked as normally as possible to the light switches, flipping them on.
He watched with pleasure as her eyes widened at the sight. Trinkets, large and small, thousands of them. Some in cases, some on tables, some hanging from the ceiling; glittering, gently tinkling from the wind they'd let in with them. It was, after all, a pawn shop. Just another physical sign of his power, owning the things people valued but had to give away in moments of weakness. But power wasn't something he was concerned with at that moment; right now, he was just enjoying knowing that even after years apart and with none of her memories, he could still impress her.
"Tea?" He asked pleasantly. The din of the storm howling outside was now dull, providing an ambiance. No longer a threat. They were safe in here.
"Tea would be lovely." Belle responded.
Gold made his way through the curtains at the back of his shop and up the stairs slowly. He'd pulled a chair out for Belle in the shop and excused himself to heat up a pot of tea, but his mind was racing as he idly pulled off his wet suit jacket, button-up shirt, and undershirt. They all fell to the floor in a muddy, sopping mess. He retrieved a towel from his bathroom and gazed at himself in the mirror, keeping an ear out for the whistle of the teapot. He took stock of what had happened since he left his door not an hour before.
Belle was alive. She was here, in Storybrooke. Even better, she was downstairs. Right now. In his shop. He became aware of that same electricity he'd felt in the air before, when the storm was approaching. Had it been the storm?
He didn't care about his ruined clothing, or his wet, ruined shoes. Or how those wet, ruined things were slowly ruining the antique hardwood floor at this very moment. All those things could be replaced.
What was waiting for him in his cold downstairs shop, sitting on a hard chair in equally wet clothing, could not. He hastily pulled on a pair of slacks and a maroon button-up shirt, fixing his tie and running both hands through his hair. He might not give a damn about his ruined clothes, but here in this world he had the opportunity to be handsome for her, and he wasn't going to waste it.
He came downstairs a few minutes later balancing a tea tray and a stack of clothing in his arms. He found her closely studying a pile of old, antique books he'd tucked away in an abandoned corner of the shop behind the counter, and this made him smile.
"See anything you like, Dearie?" He asked. She started at the sound of his voice and hurriedly made her way back around the glass counter that served as a partition between where customers should and shouldn't be. She looked embarrassed.
"Sorry, I just saw the books and was curious."
"Not at all," He couldn't keep the smile from his voice. "What's mine is yours. Please," He gestured to his burden and she took the tray from atop the pile of clothing and set it upon the glass countertop. He then offered her the clothes; a pair of jeans and a light blue sweater.
"These will be a bit large on you, dearie, but they'll probably be more comfortable than that wet dress."
"Thank you," Belle murmured, running the expensive fabric between her fingers.
Gold started a fire in the small fireplace and prepared the tea as she changed, and tried not to think too hard about Belle being upstairs in his home. He should have just invited her upstairs for tea in the first place. Why did he have to be so old fashioned? It wasn't in style in this world. It was okay to invite a woman into your home for tea. Belle did strange things to his mental process.
Fool. He bitterly thought to himself.
He was about to go upstairs and float the idea to her when she returned, and his heart did a funny flip at the sight of her. Even in clothing too large, with the sleeves and pants both rolled up several times, she was beautiful.
"Better?" He asked, and she answered with a dazzling smile.
"Yes, thank you."
Gold dragged some antique armchairs that had been for sale in the shop for as long as he could remember over to the fire and patted the dust off of them before offering her one.
"Excuse the dust. I'm not…used to visitors."
Belle settled herself in the armchair across from him and took a small sip from her tea. He smiled at her look of surprise.
"Oh my goodness, this is my favorite!"
He couldn't help the broad smile of pleasure that spread across his face.
"I had no idea. What a lucky guess for me."
Some things never change.
"So," He began, trying not to betray his overwhelming curiousity, "Do you live nearby, Dearie? You must have truly needed groceries if you chose today to go out without a car."
Belle nodded, gesturing towards the north.
"Yes. I live about a mile from here, near the city line."
Gold nearly spat out his tea. "The city line? ´There is no way you'd have made it back before being soaked! How were you expecting to get home with all those groceries? Couldn't you just have gotten a ride? Don't you have any friends?" You could have contacted me. I would have brought them to you.
She doesn't know you, you fool. He argued with himself.
Belle gave him a sharp look, clearly offended.
"I would have managed. I'm a big girl. What about you? Where were you going?"
It was the first time Gold remembered his errand, and he leapt up from his armchair and reached for his phone quickly.
"Damn. I've missed my appointment." He cursed, pacing and gazing at his phone for a long moment before finally pocketing it without making a call. Let the bastard squirm. He settled himself back in the armchair. Belle looked amused.
"I was meeting someone about the purchase of a property downtown," He explained dryly. "But I suppose that isn't going to happen today."
"I'm sorry," Belle said, and she sounded sincere. "If I hadn't been such a clumsy fool..."
"Oh no, dearie. Saving beautiful girls from puddles wins out over purchasing old buildings in my book any day."
Belle giggled, and Gold smiled despite himself.
"Am I amusing you, Belle?"
She gave him a smile that melted his heart.
"You're just so cordial. It's rare to see such a true gentlemen."
He gave her a faux bow with his upper body and she curtsied was well as she could without standing. They shared a laugh.
After a few moments of companionable silence, he looked over at Belle to see her giving him a long, appraising look over her teacup that made him uneasy.
"May I ask you something?"
"Of course," He replied.
"You seemed to recognize me in the street, but I'm certain we've never met. How do you know my name?" She was watching him carefully over the rim of her teacup, but it was curiosity in her eyes, not wariness. He relaxed marginally and shrugged.
"It's my business to know the people who live in town." He lied. He was surprised when she seemed disappointed by his answer. "Why?"
She curled her toes and looked into the fire thoughtfully.
"It's funny. I'm certain we've never met, but when I first saw you I could have sworn.." She shook her head. "But I know I'm mistaken. I don't even know your name."
Her response made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Did some part of her remember him? He cleared his throat.
"How rude of me. Mr. Gold." She held out her free hand and he grasped it gently, giving her a chaste kiss on the knuckles. She immediately blushed and turned away, brushing her hair behind her ears. He smiled with pleasure.
"Mr. Gold," She murmured. "I really appreciate you saving me and bringing me here today. I'd have probably been struck by lightning if it wasn't for you. "
Her voice had taken on a warmth that made him smile. Maybe kissing her hand had been a mistake. Maybe he'd made her uncomfortable, but the way she was acting didn't imply complete disinterest.
"It was my pleasure, Belle. I know what you meant earlier. I feel as if we've known each other in a past life," He hedged. But her face held no new recognition.
He held his teacup out to her in a salute.
"To old, yet new friends," He declared.
She leaned forward and clinked her teacup gently against his, giggling. But something shining on her finger caught his eye as she pulled away. He shot his hand out and grabbed her by the wrist, feeling the blood drain from his face as reality came crashing down around him.
A silver engagement ring glinted mockingly against the porcelain of the cup.
Thanks for the read, guys. More to come. Please review!