Chapter 4

It was well past three in the morning and she was sitting quietly in the parlor with an old book in her hands. She wasn't actually reading it for all she'd picked it off one of the many bookshelves in his house after considerable deliberation over the choice, only had it open on the arm of the couch with her hand holding the pages open. She had taken a fondness to this spot in the house, as she could see the whole room from it. She had come down here hours ago to distract herself from her thoughts, which were much louder as she lay quietly in her bed with nothing to distract her, and knew there was no chance of going back to sleep. Since she came downstairs she had been sitting quietly on the sofa with her legs tucked up under her. Trying to quiet her mind she stared blankly at the empty fireplace, wishing it were cool enough for a fire so she could stare at the flames flickering and smell the logs burning. It would certainly be much more interesting than starting at the shadows of the room as her mind wove worry.

The last two months had been surprisingly easy. Not to say it hadn't been an adjustment living with a complete stranger, but it hadn't been nearly as hard or scary as she had imagined it would be when she first agreed to it. The first week had been the worst by far, but even that hadn't been so bad. It was just extremely awkward. Their trip to Cape Cod had been a fine, if lonely affair. He had left her largely on her own as he worked in the hotel room on his laptop. She had invited him to go exploring with her, thinking this might be a nice way to at least get to know one another a little, but he had turned her down as he became fixated on whatever it was he was doing. Thinking he was wasting his weekend away working through it she left him alone and went out on her own. She had never had a problem exploring by herself and wore herself out getting to know the area. It was a lovely town, and she had enjoyed sitting on the beach and watching the waves for most of one day. It had been the first quite time she'd had to herself in she didn't know how long. Certainly since her father got sick. She hadn't taken the disinterest personally either. This was a business deal, nothing more, and she was sure with his mindset he hadn't meant to snub her, or so she told herself.

When they got back to Storybrooke the town was still buzzing about their abrupt marriage and she did her best to ignore it. She would only add to the gossip if she reacted and she really hated to be the center of attention, especially this way. Really, she had always been a bit of a wallflower and all this attention was making her truly uncomfortable. So she focused on her own small world and kept her head up, refusing to bend under the pressure. She spent most of Monday afternoon after they got back unpacking the rest of her things and arranging her room to her liking. Gold left her alone, doing whatever it was he did to occupy his time, and she eventually finished and figured they might want to eat since they had skipped lunch to get back here in a timely fashion.

Standing up from beside an empty box she stretched her back out and grabbed the empty cardboard before heading downstairs. As she got to the bottom of the steps she perked up at the thought of exploring the kitchen and headed that way. Unsure of where the trash was she set the boxes down near the wall to ask him about where to dispose of them and began to poke around and open cupboards. Four large cabinets in and all she found were two pots, a single skillet, and a wooden spoon that appeared to have been badly burned at some point. Torn between bemusement and worry about what this might mean for her dinner she kept on.

Five minutes later he walked in, no doubt drawn from his home office by the noise, and found her staring into the nearly empty refrigerator as she held the door of it open. He had half a loaf of white bread, some turkey breast, sliced cheese, a nearly empty gallon of milk, and half a stick of butter. There wasn't even anything to put on the turkey and cheese sandwiches, which she was concerned he might be living on. No lettuce, no tomatoes, no condiments to be seen at all. She had never seen such a sad example of being a bachelor in her entire life. She glanced over when she heard the soft tap of his cane on the wooden floors and tried very hard not to laugh at this pathetic excuse of a larder. "Do you eat, Mr. Gold?"

He immediately got prickly as he came to the realization that she found he was unable to care for himself properly as an adult should. "Of course."

"What?"

"I eat." He repeated in annoyance.

"No, I mean what do you eat?" She looked back into the fridge before shutting it. "And what do you eat with?" She shook her head. "I found a very sad collection of cookware and none of it looks like it's ever been used before, except for the spoon which appears as if it may have been used as kindling for a fire. You know the stove has knobs? You don't have to add wood to cook with it."

He flicked at his well-tailored jacket, annoyed with her. "I do quite well on my own, Miss French."

"Hmm." She said, utterly unconvinced. "I suppose it's a good thing I haven't sold anything out of the house yet. I'll bring everything from my kitchen over tomorrow. It looks like I better serve you your meals if I don't want to starve to death myself, or die of malnutrition."

"Are you done, dearie?" He asked with exasperation.

She smiled in amusement and went back to looking through cabinets, estimating how much space she had here. "Okay, okay, I'll leave you alone about your sad lack of food. Although I have to tell you if you had dropped dead of starvation with all your money people here never would have forgotten it." He rolled his eyes and she suppressed another laugh. He turned to go, clearly having enough of her, but she stopped him. "Wait a second. What do you like to eat? I need to go grocery shopping and I don't want to get things you hate."

"I'm not picky." He told her primly as he left, his dignity in shambles.

"All right, but I'm reminding you of that if you complain about what I cook."

He muttered something she didn't hear, but suspected was unflattering toward her person, and couldn't help but laugh under her breath at him. It was good to know he was as much a man as any other male in Storybrooke. Once he was gone she considered making a shopping list before realizing they needed everything and simply dropped the idea as she started searching for the trash as he didn't seem to be happy enough with her to tell her where it was.

The next day she'd gone to the small supermarket in town after work and returned with enough groceries to keep them happy for at least a full week. She put everything away and then went to her house, thankful she had asked for a few weeks to get her life in order, and packed up the kitchen before moving her things into his. He didn't get home until nearly eight, and by that time she had food cooked and sitting on two plates in the stove to keep what she'd cooked warm. She had also been sure to pack them both lunch for the next day, because she was suspicious he didn't eat through the day by the state of his fridge and his lack of patronage at Granny's over the years.

He came into the kitchen, no doubt drawn by foreign smells of cooked food, or the light that was on, and looked around distrustfully. She was sitting calmly at the island in the center of the kitchen reading as she waited for him so they could eat and didn't look up as he walked in. She had already cleaned up the small mess she made cooking and had run out of things to do while she waited. "It's all right, Mr. Gold, I only brought in food into the house, not ravenous killer dogs." He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to intimidate her for that, but she was unmoved. She turned the page of her novel as she continued. "Are you hungry?"

There was a pause as he studied the question, searching for hidden meanings or tricks. "Yes." He finally answered as she waited patiently for him to decide.

"Okay." She shut her book after setting her bookmark inside of it and got up. "Do you always get home this late?"

"Not always." He said evasively.

She opened the stove and pulled the plates out with a towel so she wouldn't burn herself. "If you tell me your schedule it'll be easier to get things ready for me." She told him as she slid a plate to the other side of the island from where she was sitting. He said nothing as he eyed the plate. She could tell he was more than interested in the breaded chicken, broccoli, and boiled potatoes. It wasn't an elaborate meal by any means, but having no idea what he liked to eat she had gone for something simple and hoped for the best. She got her own plate out and set it where she had been sitting and then went to get them drinks. She had made them iced tea, as she did know he liked that beverage, filled some glasses, and sat back down. She had set out napkins and silverware over an hour ago when she was waiting for him to get back. He stood there looking at her and the food as she put her napkin in her lap politely. "It's not poisoned." She pointed out. "Murdering you wouldn't do me any good after signing that no doubt air tight prenup you drew up." She hadn't bothered to read it too closely. There was no point as she knew he wouldn't change anything on it.

He sent her another suspicious look before sitting down on the stool. "You didn't need to wait for me."

She shrugged. "I don't like eating by myself." She told him honestly. "Half the fun of cooking is enjoying it with someone."

He put his napkin in his lap as he took that in. "Thank you for making dinner."

"You're welcome." She said cheerfully, pleased she wasn't going to eat alone even if she was going to eat with a man that was as good as a stranger. "I'm still not doing your laundry though."

His lips curled up and his tension drained away. "Very well." He agreed. "About the cleaning-"

"I swear I will let you starve." She told him merrily right before she put a bite of potato in her mouth. His eyes glittered in amusement as she volleyed the teasing back. She wondered, in that moment, if he was really as bad as everyone said or if people simply took what he said the wrong way. The rest of the meal was largely quiet as they got used to sharing space with one another, but she noted that he cleaned his plate. She felt good about that, that he liked what she had made, and she finished a minute or so after him. He was nice enough to sit with her while she finished her own meal, which she also appreciated.

She thought it possible that sharing dinners was what finally broke through the oddness of the whole situation. They didn't talk overly much the first week while they sat together, but slowly they began to share little things about their days, which helped them both relax around one another no matter how insignificant those chats were, or how stilted the conversation. It helped too, when she came back from the grocery store the following Sunday and found there was a laundry basket in front of her door with a neat pile of her clean, folded clothes. That had been nice of him and the ice had finally broken between them, even if it was more of a spider web effect rather than glacial splitting.

The following two months had been fine. Gold was a pleasant enough housemate. He left her alone to her own devices, and honestly was gone so much they didn't see each other more than an hour or two a day. He didn't pry into her personal life and she didn't ask overly much about him, which seemed to be just how he wanted things. While she certainly wondered what he got up to when he was gone all the time, especially after hearing something about Ashley's baby, which made her terribly nervous, but turned out to be nothing but a rumor as the young woman was walking around with the infant a few days after they started, she respected his privacy.

She had her own things to worry about anyway. Regina Mills, who had never seemed to like her for who knew what reason, was really getting on her last nerve. After they got back from Cape Cod the woman had been in the library the next day and gone after her like an angry, well manicured shrew from hell. She reminded her that she was now fully out of personal days, was in fact one over her limit for the year, and that if she missed another day of work would be dismissed from her position. She had been taken aback by that, sure that she was allowed time for the death of a family member. When she had told the other woman that the situation had only spiraled further downward.

Eventually, after nearly twenty minutes of the other woman threatening her in every manner possible she lost patience and circled around the woman to get rid of her. She never overly enjoyed tricking people with word play, but she was more than capable if the situation called for it. Within five minutes of starting her own, subtle, sweetly polite retaliation she had Regina nicely turned about and having no clue how it had happened. This only enraged the woman further and she stormed out of the library in a rage of clicking high heels and glinting, mascara covered eyes. It certainly won her no favors getting the mayor flustered, but she could really only take so much.

Two weeks later the woman was back with a litany of complaints from the way she was running the library, to having not taken care of the faulty wiring which was so outside her budget it was absurd to even bring up, to what books they were picking at her book club, and reading hour on Friday evenings for the children of Storybrooke. She pointed out that she had no say in what the adults decided to pick every month for the reading club as they voted on it themselves and she had no input whatsoever. All she did was provide them with a room to meet in to discuss it, and while she was a member she stayed out of the picking as she felt she got far more opportunity to read than anyone else and they deserved to pick what they read in their limited spare time. She then asked Mills exactly what was wrong with fairytales, the theme of the season, and got no reasonable reply to that either, mostly because there was no reasonable reply. She once again got rid of the woman, who all but promised her removal from her position, and shook her head as she left. The mayor had no real way to fire her as she had a contract to be there and had in no way violated it despite what she said.

Regardless, the stress of being constantly bombarded by the other woman was starting to wear on her. On top of everything else she was dealing with she couldn't sleep and had become a bit of an insomniac, which was why she was sitting down in the parlor at three in the morning. It probably didn't help that she still felt strange sleeping in this house either, which was far too big and she swore echoed at night. "Dearie?" She nearly jumped out of her skin at the abrupt call. Glancing over she saw Gold was standing in the doorway, still in the same outfit he'd had on that day, sans jacket and tie. She had never, after two months of living with him, seen him dressed in anything so casual. The first few buttons on his shirt were even undone. "What are you doing?"

"Reading." She answered. "Why are you creeping around in the dark?"

"This is my house." He pointed out as he stepped closer. She supposed that was true. If he wanted to creep around she shouldn't bother him about it. "Why aren't you sleeping? It's the middle of the night."

"Why aren't you sleeping?" She tossed back tiredly as she turned her attention back to the book.

"My leg."

She glanced over when he actually gave her a real answer. He sat down on a chair near her, his favorite she suspected, and stretched his leg out, resting his cane against the chair. Feeling the need to reciprocate his honesty she answered. "I couldn't fall asleep." He relaxed a little into the seat, getting comfortable. "Does your leg hurt a lot?"

"Some days worse than others."

"Yes then?" She asked, having learned how to interpret some of what he said. "What did you do to it?"

He blatantly ignored that question. "Why can't you sleep?"

She didn't want to answer that question and shook her head, refusing to lie, but refusing to give him the information either. He shrugged without concern and she went back to looking at the words on the page, not really seeing them. She made her own change in conversation. "You do have a pretty house, Gold." She kept her eyes on the room at large. "Did it come like this or have you added onto it?" Honestly, she couldn't remember what the old Victorian had looked liked before he moved into it. No one had been in it for years, as the previous owner who had moved away years before refused to settle on any offer lower than his asking price, which no one could afford.

"It was like this. I've had it fixed up, there was no real choice with as old as it was, and I added to the garden in the back."

"Why is it pink?" She asked, really wanting to know.

"It's salmon." She turned her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "It's a historical color."

She laughed softly. "So is brown, or forest green, or navy blue. Seriously, why salmon?"

"I find it aesthetically pleasing if you must know." She grinned and he sent her a look. "Satisfied?"

"I really am." His own lip twitched up. "Do you want some tea? It appears neither of us are going to sleep in the near future."

"Please."

She nodded and stood up. "I'll be right back." She padded into the kitchen, wishing she had put on socks since she had an odd surety that she was going to eventually find a splinter in these wood floors no matter how well they were made, and put together a tea tray. Ten minutes later she walked back into the sitting room and set it on the table. She made his tea the way he liked it in the silly chipped cup he favored and handed it to him. Why he insisted on using what she had all but destroyed was beyond her. All she knew was that one day the tea set had ended up back at the house. She suspected because she had ruined it for selling by chipping one of the cups. That made sense to her. What didn't was why he used the cup. She thought it likely it was a way of teasing her for being clumsy. There was really no way for her to hide that at all and she was sure she was making a nuisance of herself around here with the way she flailed about injuring herself and destroying things. "Thank you, dearie."

"You're welcome." She said as she got her own cup. Taking it she sat down on the corner of the sofa again and curled her legs up under her. She held her tea more than drank it, but he was nice enough not to mention her obvious distraction, instead he surprised her with understanding.

"Eventually it won't hurt so much."

She glanced over at him sharply. "What?"

"I know you were close with your father. It's hard to loose family." She looked down into her tea, embarrassed that he saw her feelings when she was trying so hard to hide them. "It gets easier in some ways. Easier not having them with you."

Slowly, she nodded a little, accepting that he was trying to be kind. "I just want to be able to sleep again." She told him truthfully. "I can't seem to since he died."

"It'll come eventually." He told her. "Or you'll go mad from sleep deprivation."

She snorted out a small laugh and looked back up at him. "Reassuring. You have a really twisted sense of humor you know."

"You're the one laughing." He told her with a slight smile, a definite step up from a mere curling at the corner of his mouth. "It seems you do as well."

"True enough." She took a sip of her tea sensing that he was willing to talk about more than trivialities tonight for a reason she couldn't understand. "So… you don't sleep, you don't eat, you don't date. What do you do with yourself, Mr. Gold? Other than amass your name sake that is."

"Collect mouthy, inquisitive wives it seems."

She smiled again. "At least I'm not dull."

"No, you're a storm of clumsy chaos."

She was amused, and she knew he wasn't saying it to be cruel. He was teasing in his own warped, friendly way. "I think you needed a force of nature in your life. You spend entirely too much time in your head."

"Thank goodness you've taken it on yourself to help me." He said sarcastically.

"You're very lucky." She informed him with a small smile. "I think I make a lovely spouse."

His lip twitched again. "Well, I have no complaints other than you trying to destroy everything."

"That's gravities fault, not mine." She defended staunchly. "It's always had it out for me."

"We all have our burdens to bear." She rolled her eyes as she sipped her tea. They sat there quietly for a few minutes before he spoke again. "Do you like the house?" She glanced over at him in confusion, her head tilting in question. "Are you comfortable here?"

She wasn't sure why he cared if she was comfortable, but he was oddly sincere. "It's a beautiful house." She told him.

"But you aren't comfortable." He translated.

She sighed and looked back down at the tea, which was more than half gone. "I hardly fit do I?"

"Fit?"

"You've thrown a storm of clumsy chaos into a house full of china and priceless antiques. It's quite brave of you, but I'm constantly terrified I'm going to destroy something I know you can't replace."

"There's no need for you to worry about that." He told her. She said nothing to that and he pushed on. "I realize this is hardly how you imagined your marriage to be." She glanced up at him. "I'm not so cruel as to want you more unhappy than need be."

"I told you I would do this." She said, thinking he was worried she was going to back out even though she'd made indication that she would, even though she had married him. "I'm not going to break my promise."

"I never said you were." He told her. "But nearly two years is a long time for you to feel out of place. You're a more pleasant housemate than I could have hoped for, I want you comfortable as well."

That was rather a lot nicer than she expected even after demanding niceness. She wasn't entirely what to say about it, but it was good of him all the same. "I'll do my best then." He sighed and she knew he wasn't satisfied with that answer, but she didn't know what else to say about it. She couldn't just make herself feel comfortable because he asked, that wasn't how things worked. "If it makes you feel any better I never really felt like I belonged anywhere." As soon as that tumbled out of her mouth she not only wished she had never said it to him, but that she had said it at all. She had never told anyone that before. However, when he gave her a penetrating look all she could do was forge on as she stared down at her tea tiredly. "So really I'm as comfortable here as I've been anywhere." Except possibly the library, but that was where she worked, not where she lived. She also suspected she would feel that way in any library.

He was silent as he watched her and she sipped at her tea, doing her best not to fidget as he watched her. Finally, he broke the silence. "Is that why you sold your house so fast? You didn't like it?"

"I sold the house because I couldn't afford it." She told him again. "That's all there was to it."

"It belonged to your father." He pointed out. "I think there was more to it than that."

"No." She disagreed. "I don't know why everyone keeps telling me it mattered. It doesn't matter. It was just a house, not a person." She shrugged. "Maybe I'm just not sentimental."

Once again he said nothing, and she was rather relieved he wasn't going to argue with her about that the way Ruby and her grandmother always tried to. Or worse, try to make her feel guilty, or sad, or reminisce about her parents to try to get an emotional response out of her. Why people kept trying to do that she didn't know. It didn't make her feel better at all. It just embarrassed her to no end. "In that case I'm glad you sold it so quickly." He said. "The Nolen's seem pleased to finally be out of their loft."

"I would be too if I had a seven year old running about with as much energy as Emma has."

He shrugged as he sipped at his tea. "You sold it for far too little."

Of course he had somehow found out how much they gave her for it. "I made plenty of money from it. It would have cost me more to wait for a higher offer and pay the taxes and mortgage on it during the interim. Besides, that was all they could afford."

"That should be their problem, not yours."

"It's no one's problem now." She said reasonably. "As I've sold the house and they've been in it for over a month. I made quite a bit off the estate sale as well, more than I need now."

"There's no such thing." He informed her. "I think your current situation proves that."

She sent him a look. "If I end up in another situation like this I think I can simply assume I'm insane and everything is a delusion I've conjured up in my head while in a nice padded cell."

"You and that optimism, thinking it would be padded."

"You won't even let me have a padded cell in my own hypothetic situation. You're so mean to me."

"I'm a true beast. The rumors must be true."

"Oh please." She replied as she took another sip of her tea. "You're a man, just a normal man."

"I'm anything but normal, dearie, something you should be grateful for."

"I think you're more grateful than me. You hate competition. That would be one crazy smack down if there was another one of you."

He chuckled and she gave him a dazzling smile. "What?"

"Nothing, I just knew I could get you to laugh eventually." He raised an eyebrow and she watched him. "You have a nice laugh. You should do it more."

He looked at her then as if she were some odd sort of creature, like no one had ever said anything like that to him before. Eventually, he broke the silence. "I have few reasons to laugh."

That tugged at her heartstrings a little, although she didn't know why. He holed himself up alone all the time. If he went out and talked with people he would have more reasons to laugh, but there were so many things she didn't know about him. There could be any number of reasons he was the way he was. Her mother had told her once, when she was very small and they were still in Australia that everyone had a reason for acting the way they did. She didn't even remember who had upset her, most likely another child from school, but she did remember what her mother said because it had proven true time and again throughout her life. People always had reasons for acting the way they acted. She should know that better than anyone having done what she had to clear a debt.

She continued to smile at him softly. "Then I'm glad I gave you a reason." That also stumped him and she thought he really had spent far too much time by himself. Before he could reply to that the grandfather clock he had out in the hallway began to chime the hour. She sighed at the forth chime and finished her tea in two large gulps. "I think I better try to sleep at least a little bit or I'm going to be a grump in the morning." She stood up, wondering if sleep was really going to happen. "Leave the tea there when you're done, I'll get it tomorrow." She smiled at him again. "Goodnight, Mr. Gold."

"Miss French." He replied as he stared at the cup.

She tsked at him. "You really must break the habit of calling me that. It's Mrs. Gold thank you very much. I'll have you know I'm a married woman now and won't put up with such nonsense." He smiled grudgingly and her eyes twinkled. "Or you could always try Belle, since it's my name and all."

"Away with you, imp."

She laughed as she left the room, amused with the silly name calling. Going back to her room she shut herself in and lay down. She thought she really needed to start sleeping again as she stared up at the ceiling. She really was going to get sleep deprivation if she didn't. Sighing, she reached over and pulled her pillow over her face. All that did was make it harder to breathe. Clearly, she needed to try a different approach. She would try something else when she wasn't quite so tired.

Author's Note: So many reviews! I'm so happy! Oh, and someone commented on Gold calling Gary, Gaston in the last chapter and thought it was a typo. It's not. I made his last name Gaston in this, so his name is, in fact, Gary Gaston. Sorry for the confusion!