Gold had all but disappeared from Lacey's life since that last day in the pawnshop. She hadn't seen him in over a month. It was for the best. Perhaps in another universe, in another life, they could have been happy together, but in this one they would never move past Belle.
Lacey gave a snort. That wasn't true. In every other universe, in every other life, Gold was happily married to her sister. This universe was the one cock up, the one place where they didn't get their happy ending. Sometimes Lacey wonders if she even exists outside of this one narrow plane where Belle is gone. She's never felt like a whole person. She is merely a shadow that trailed after her sister and now that the solid, corporeal form of Belle is gone, she is not even that. She's something transient, a whisper on the wind, and she will be gone soon too.
It's a surprise when she finally sees him again, but at the same time inevitable. It's been so long since that day he told her he loved her that she's almost convinced herself that she hallucinated the whole thing. But there he is one night, standing outside her apartment door as she trudges home from a late shift at the Rabbit Hole. It's nearly three in the morning. She's tired and her feet hurt and she reeks of cigarettes and stale beer. Her makeup has mostly worn off and there's a stain on her tank top. Of course he would seek her out now, like this.
For Gold's part, he looks impeccable as always, looming silently in the shadows of her apartment building. He's dressed entirely in black, as usual, except for the bright red slashes of red on his striped tie. For a moment they look like blood, a splattering across him, some feral creature lying in wait for her. But she blinks, and it's just Gold again, leaning on his cane, his face impassive as she approaches.
She doesn't say anything, just fumbles with her keys and gets the apartment door open. She walks in, kicking off her heels and leaves the door open, wondering if Gold will take it as the invitation it is. She shouldn't let him in, but she misses him so damn much. Without Belle, without Gold, she is truly alone. Her entire body aches with it.
She hears the scuff of his cane on the threshold and the quiet click of the lock as he closes the door behind him. Lacey just continues on to the kitchen, shrugging out of her jacket and throwing it across the kitchen table as she heads to the fridge.
"Beer?" she asks, rifling through the contents of the fridge and surfacing with two bottles of something cheap. It's the first word she's said to him in how long? Fitting.
Gold looks disdainfully at the bottle in her hand before taking it, twisting off the top, and setting it on her counter untouched. Lacey opens her beer as well, but takes a fortifying sip, downing half the bottle in one gulp.
"Why are you here?" she asks finally, setting her bottle down next to his. He looks old under the fluorescent lighting of her kitchen, like he's somehow aged years since she last saw him. She supposes loss can do that to a person. She's sure she looks just as haggard.
"I wanted to explain," he says. "Explain where I've been and why."
Lacey leans back against the kitchen counter, waiting for him to continue.
"I've been busy," he says cryptically. "There's been a lot of upheaval in town lately."
Lacey can't say she's noticed, but Gold has always had his fingers in every pie in town. He would know better than her.
"But that's only part of the reason I've stayed away," he continues. "I've avoided you on purpose because I'm a coward."
His voice breaks on the last word, the first show of emotion since he appeared in the darkness tonight. Lacey crosses her arms against her chest, doing everything in her power not to reach for him.
"All of this was to protect myself," he says haltingly. "From the guilt and the shame. I was too cowardly to face you. Because I love Belle, and I love you and for a time that seemed insurmountable, but it doesn't anymore, Lacey."
What is he talking about? Of course it's insurmountable. They'd never have met if not for Belle. They'd never have come together if she hadn't died. There's no reconciling what they are with the memory of the person they both loved most. They are the worst sort of traitors for ever succumbing to it to begin with.
"We can never be happy together," Lacey says with a shake of her head, bile rising up the back of her throat at odds with the flutter of hope in her stomach. "We agreed on that much. This isn't just about your feelings Gold. Don't you think I feel guilty too? The only reason we started spending time together was because we're the only two people in town who seem to remember Belle at all. Everyone else just moved on. We can't move on too. We can't just let Belle disappear."
Her voice is rising in concert with her panic, with the screaming, clawing, raging creature that lives in her chest that is at once protective of Belle and jealous of her. The one that's been there her whole life if she lets herself think about it, even before the tragedy of Belle's death.
"We won't," he says with conviction, closing the space between them. His hands cup her cheeks, forcing her tear filled eyes to meet his, shining with hope like she's never seen them.
Her back is pressed against her kitchen counter, her front a hair's breadth away from the warm, solid figure of Gold. She can smell his spicy cologne, she can feel his breath against her face as his calloused thumbs caress her cheeks, and she wants him so much it is physically painful. His presence here tickles something at the back of her mind, like a memory of a dream that has long since faded.
He leans down, brushing his lips against hers. It's barely a kiss, a hint of something more but restrained, hesitant. There is none of the desperation and fire that usually drive their kisses. It's a question.
"Sweetheart," he says, pulling back from her with aching tenderness. It's the same endearment he used to use for Belle though and Lacey can't possibly handle it. She is not a replacement. She is not Belle. She wishes she could be, for him and for herself. But there's not enough of her to be Belle. Belle was whole and she is just a shadow.
"No," she says, wrenching her face out of Gold's light hold. "I'm not your sweetheart. Belle was. But I am not her!"
Gold's face crumples at her words, agony etched across every line. He looks like he's falling apart in front of her and she almost regrets her words. Almost.
Gold nods, backing away from her, out of her kitchen, out of her apartment, and out of her life.