"I regret it all. I really do, I swear. Please, please– let's fix this, please."

There is desperation in Gold's voice, an utter brokenness that almost sways her. She doesn't want him to hurt. It's what led to this mess in the first place, her desire to give him succor at any cost, even her own heart.

He is standing outside her apartment door, pleading with her to let him in. She's not sure why he's here. She thought she'd been clear the other night. There was nothing more for them. They weren't happy together and pretending to be was killing her.

Alexander Gold had never looked Lacey's way in the long years of their acquaintance. He'd only ever had eyes for one of the French twins and it certainly wasn't Lacey. Belle was the good sister, the responsible one, the caring one, the light of Gold's life. She'd been the light of Lacey's life as well. Losing her, it had almost killed them both. But somehow they'd managed to survive it together.

But survival does not a relationship make. Coming together over a shared loss, finding comfort in each other's arms, letting him pretend for a few stolen moments that she was Belle and his wife was still here, it was hardly healthy. And while Lacey had never much cared about her own health, she couldn't watch Gold keep self destructing this way.

She loves him too much for that.

And she hates herself for loving him. She hates herself for fucking her sister's husband while she lays cold in the ground. If one of them had to die young it should have been Lacey, not Belle. It was one of life's cruel jokes that her sister was dead and she was still here. She felt like half a person, a phantom pain radiating from the space her twin should still occupy. She'd patched herself together by leaning on Gold. They both missed Belle and they missed Belle together. But it was wrong.

"What do you regret?" she asks, her voice rasping over the words. She hasn't been well since she called things off a few days before. She's cloistered herself in her apartment, drinking and crying and missing her twin. Losing Gold somehow feels like losing Belle all over again no matter that she knows it's for the best. Perhaps that's why he's here. Perhaps he feels the same way.

"Everything," he says, his accent thick with emotion. "I'm sorry we happened this way. I'm sorry that Belle is gone and nothing we can do will bring her back. And I'm sorry that I used you. I'm sorry I didn't see you. I was too mired in my own pain that I didn't consider yours. You deserve better than that, Lacey. Let me try to fix this."

Lacey leans against the doorjamb, the cheap white paint flaking against her shoulder.

"You have nothing to apologize for," she says. "We were both hurting and we both made a choice, a bad one, but we're adults. I can own up to my part in this. But I can't see you anymore."

She moves out of the doorway, going to close the door and block out the sight of his sad eyes, the very same pain she feels constantly reflected back at her. But Gold slaps his hand out, stopping the door's momentum with deceptive strength. The light glints off the wedding ring he still wears on his left hand and the sight makes her sick to her stomach.

"Please, I can't lose you too," he says desperately. "Lacey, I can't be alone again."

She takes a deep breath, composing herself as best she can under the circumstances.

"That's not enough of a reason to be together," she says.

She could never be happy with Gold even if he could see her, beyond her resemblance to Belle. She carries too much guilt for that. Every breath she takes these days is a betrayal to her sister. Every moment she loves Gold is an insult to her memory. She's only been gone a year. It was mere months before she was in bed with her husband, letting him bury his head against her neck and call her by her sister's name and pretending she was too drunk to notice the slip up.

And now she loves him and she can't do this anymore.

"Would you have ever given me the time of day if I didn't look like her?"

She knows she's won the argument, but she can't find it in herself to be happy about it. Gold looks stricken and she knows his answer. No. If she didn't wear Belle's face he'd have nothing to do with her.

She just nods, shutting the door and this time Gold offers no opposition.