Two days following the East Cost Blackout (as the news had officially dubbed it) found Belle outside of Mr. Gold's pawnshop with a Tupperware full of desserts. She hadn't expected to be here today (or to see Mr. Gold any time soon), but impulsive behavior and pent up agitation regarding the Queens of Darkness's canceled interview nearly forced the petite librarian into baking against her will. Now Belle had about a million treats she didn't know what to do with.

Giving her goodies to her regular library patrons and neighbors sounded like a good idea—so she did that, door to door. The next day, Belle gave more of her leftovers to the sufferers of the recent flash flood, and to Granny's where the Lucases handed food out.

After all that, Belle still had a lot of sweets. Cookies, brownies, oatmeal clusters, cupcakes—you name it, Belle made it. It was then that she realized a very important person close to her heart hadn't gotten anything from her yet.

Belle bit her lip. Mr. Gold.

So, squishing her excitement over seeing her crush again, Belle gathered some of every treat she made into a plastic food container and made her away across the street. If Gold had the tolerance for her today, this would be Belle's second time to enter his shop. Maybe he would even play the guitar for her again?

His shop was open; the chart that advertised his hours had been taken down, but the open sign was on, along with the lights. She pushed her way inside with a smile, admiring the cheerful bell above his door. That was one of the few things that remained intact.

Gold's pawnshop was not in its rightful glory like before. The water stains on the once-immaculate floors immediately arrested Belle's attention. She twisted her mouth as she studied the water damage on some of the furniture.

"Miss French," Gold's soft, sensual brogue greeted her. "What a surprise."

Belle's face lit up as she studied the man behind the checkout counter. He stood next to the old cash register, a massive thing near ancient. The shop was never brightly lit, and Gold stood in half shadows beneath a yellow ray of sunlight gleaming from the window. Bits of dust floated in the air like tiny flakes of gold. The expressive lines in his face were more noticeable in this light; his face sometimes makes Belle think of a tiger. A very attractive tiger.

He looked so very dark and refined, she noted, admiring the dark red of his tie. "Hello, Mr. Gold!" Belle responded cheerfully, pushing away her appreciation for his appearance.

"Yes, hello indeed," Gold mused with his sable eyes pinned on her. He appeared unfazed by her presence, if not irked. Before him on the counter rested a pile of paperwork. A pen rested in his fist beside them, posed to write. Following her gaze to his current objective, he tilted his head in quiet contemplation. Gold answered her unspoken question without looking up. "Damage reparations," he sang gently.

"Oh," Belle responded thoughtfully. Of course Gold would be doing that; he was the landlord for most, if not all, of Storybrooke. She approached him with her curiosity and extroverted nature propelling her. "Have you been doing it all morning?"

The side of his mouth quirked upward sardonically. "Since the storm ended, dearie."

She frowned at that. "Well, even you have to take a break every now and then. Have you eaten, Mr. Gold?"

The Scotsman's eyebrows knitted together. "Excuse me?"

Belle held up the little food bin, showing it to him with a friendly smile. "I made some sweets the other day, and I've too much that I don't know what to do with! Would you like some?" Without waiting for him to respond (and she didn't have to try too hard—he seemed to be struck dumb), Belle sat the bin on the counter and opened the lid. "You've got some cookies here, pecan clusters, a brownie, and two whole Anzac biscuit! It's just like how my mom made them!"

The pawnbroker eyed the plastic bin of treats as if they were poisoned. His eyes shot up to meet hers, looking hunted. "Miss French, surely you have peers in your social circle that would be much more appropriate receivers of this."

"Oh, please, I've already done that. I wanted to give these to you!"

He continued to give her a deeply cynical glower before relenting. Gold sighed and straightened his back, suddenly seeming more relaxed. "Alright… I will accept it, only because you refuse to take no as an answer."

Belle beamed as if he'd given her the biggest compliment ever. "Great! And just because I have to ask—do you still have that harp guitar?"

One hit, two hit, three can't come home tonight,
Old man's got that old tang on the tongue tonight,
I can't keep my feet on the floor tonight,
Tink's got those odd starry eyes tonight,
And I just can't stop kidding around!
Ay!
Peter Pan's knocking on your window!
His shadow's nowhere to be found!
Making music with his pipe and pirate drink,
Nothin' much matters when you can fly, fly, fly away!
Ay!
Papa's boys don't eat before fighting,
Cap'n Hook's got an eye on the paupers,
All's fun and games with no grown-ups!
Don't you wanna be a lost boy too?

"Peter Pan's My Papa", RATQOD

"Is your power back on yet?" Belle asked Mary Margret over her steaming cup of Lady Gray.

After Belle had given her treats to Gold (PS, he didn't have the harp guitar, to her dismay), the young librarian had invited three of her friends—Mary Margret, Ruby, and Mulan—over to socialize at her apartment. Currently, all four women were sitting in Belle's living room sipping tea (or coffee, if you're Ruby).

"Yes, thank heavens," Mary Margret said with a sigh of relief, taking a sip of her tea. "The maintenance guy came over this morning, so now I can have a hot shower again. Ah, sometimes I wonder what did people did before electricity."

"They had bath tubs, and they filled it with water from a pump, then heated pots of water to make the bath warm."

Ruby sniffed, chugging down her Irish coffee. "You keep your nose in too many books, Belle. Why don't you ever go out and actually do things? Maybe get a drink… meet a boy…"

"I do do things," Belle insisted, putting her teacup on its saucer with a clank. "I was out yesterday handing out cookies with you and Granny. And I do not need a boy in my life."

"Baby, everyone needs somebody—and what crawled up your coochie today? You're being sucha prune. When was the last time you got laid, anyway?"

"Oh my god, Ruby! I don't want to hook up with some stranger, okay?!"

Ruby jumped. The group jumped. "Woah, okay, jeez, never mind, Belle. I was just saying."

They got quiet. Belle frowned. She hadn't meant to sound so mean, but Belle wasn't completely immune to Ruby's constant nagging of her private life. Beside her, Mary Margret shifted and gave the russet-haired beauty a concerned glance. It was Mulan who broke the ice.

"What is it?" the Asian woman asked, stiff and sharp within seconds of hearing the usually warmhearted librarian get irritable.

"What is what?" Belle uncrossed then re-crossed her legs. Why had this pleasant evening turned against her? This was supposed to be a nice little gathering. She suddenly became very interested with the painted flowers on her teacup.

Mulan glared. "Something's bothering you. You were fine until Ruby brought up your private life. So what is your problem?"

"I don't have a problem," she insisted, standing up to put her now-empty cup and saucer into the skin.

"That in itself says you have a problem!" hissed Mulan, standing up to hover near the breakfast bar. "Is this about that stupid band you like? The one that was canceled because of the blackout?"

"Maybe—I don't know! I told you guys it was important!"

"Is your Mom worse?"

"No!"

"So it's something else…" Mary Margret piped up, putting her cup on the coffee table. "You were a little red around your eyes when I got here, but I though we just chose not to bring it up. Until now."

Belle sighed. It was inevitable to keep her friends' concern away, and today had both pleased and frustrated Belle.

Gold said he had moved the harp guitar to storage; he claimed that no one in Storybrooke would buy it. Belle thought this was silly, and reminded him of her love for music, especially instruments that were either rare or hard to play. If she had known Gold would squirrel the guitar away to never see the light of day again, she would have bought it for its sake alone (never mind her lack of musical talent). For some strange reason, things rapidly declined between them from there. When Belle told Gold this, he scoffed and somewhere along the lines he had made a sarcastic remark about her being, well, poor and completely hapless, therefor completely unable to buy it.

A little hurt, Belle told Gold that she got along quite well with the library, and had money aside for a comfy little nest egg. In response, Gold said that she obviously didn't, since she was "snow jobbing the town into liking her by baking cloying sugar candies, and who's better to cajole than a loaded old beast?"

Infuriated by that, Belle took her leave and swept out of his shop in a storm of confusion and rage. She angrily baked more Anzac cookies when she got back to her apartment. That took the edge off Gold's insults, but it took her courage, too, therefor leaving the young woman deeply dejected. Not wanting to be alone in fear of crying like a whiny, heartbroken schoolgirl, Belle called her friends to come over for tea.

Now, here they were talking over Belle's "problem".

"It's really nothing," she said, nervously flitting back and forth in her kitchen. "I just had a bad day."

"It's barely 2:00," said Ruby. She crossed her arms and gave Belle a hard look. "Come on, girl, tell us."

Belle sighed. "Have you ever… Liked someone? Like, like like them?" Mulan's hard glower softened. Seeing a similar look in Mary Margret's face, and a deeply interested look on Ruby's, Belle continued. "There's this guy… For some reason I think he's nice. Easy on the eyes. Classy. But, he, just, does not like me back."

"Who doesn't like you!?" Ruby squawked. "Everyone likes you!"

"Well," Belle sniffed, "he's not everyone."

Mulan left her station by the breakfast bar and come to Belle. "Belle, has this man hurt you?"

"What? No, just, he's a little brash."

"Then I shall confront him."

"No! Mulan!" she cried, waving her hands. "Do not do that! He would not take it well."

Ruby shoot up. "So? Bastard deserves it. Sweetie, we will fight this fucker for you. Give us his address and I'll bring the carton of rotten eggs Granny's been trying to get me to throw out for weeks."

"Okay, one, that's gross. Two, no. Please. G—he's just not the type of guy you want to make an enemy out of. I can handle him, really. I just need to get over him."

"Well sweetie," Ruby said, "the best way to get over a guy is to get under another!"

Before Belle could speak, Mary Margret blushed and spoke up. "Yeah… I guess. Why don't we all go to the Rabbit Hole tonight? Tomorrow's Monday, so I wouldn't be able to do anything for the rest of the week until Friday."

"Yeah, same," Ruby said, grinning from ear to ear. She chugged down the rest of her coffee and then slammed the empty mug on the table. "Tonight, we party!"

To Belle's horror, Mulan, the one amongst them with the most self-control, actually nods to this! No!

Belle's three friends leave, laughing, without so much as a protest from the gaping librarian.

"Oh, my, god," Ruby said, slamming an empty shot glass on the bar. She swayed and threw an arm around Mulan's shoulders. "I'm so totally wasted right now."

Mulan, sipping on a most little cup of sake, nodded stiffly. "This is Belle's night. We should find her a proper suitor."

Belle could not believe her ears.

Mary Margret, Mulan, and Ruby had come back to her apartment at 6:30 earlier that night. They practically cornered Belle, threatened her, and forced her to shower, dress, and throw some make up on for a night out. The russet-haired beauty wanted nothing to do with the Rabbit Hole tonight. What she wanted was to bake more cookies and read smutty RATQOD fanfiction and cry over sappy romance movies. Not drink into oblivion and flirt with anything that walked on two legs.

"Come on Belle," Ruby said, untangling herself from Mulan to lean beside Belle. "You got'ta gets up and dance. Lookie~ Gaston's giving you the eye."

Belle turned around to look. Sure enough, among the smoke and glimmer of the Rabbit Hole, was Gaston Chevalier.

Gaston was not Belle's type. No sir! The man was a very tall, very broad specimen that thought he was God's gift to man (and woman) kind. He did not read as far as Belle knew, or even could, and only visited the library to slip really, really bad pick up lines to her. What Belle found unsettling about Gaston was his desire for a family. A family was not bad in anyway, it's just that his view of a family is, "a little wife, a few hunting dogs, and six or seven 'strapping boys'".

Belle shivered. She gently set her glass of rosé down and pushed her chair back. The place was giving her a headache. Lights flickered colorfully around the room, and the people laughed and drank and danced along to loud, obnoxious music that was solely concerning sex and/or vices.

Across the room, Gaston saw her rise and did the same from his table. He smiled widely, blinding her with his bright, overly straight teeth. Belle could not get away fast enough.

"Hiya, Bells. Fancy seeing you here."

"Hello, Gaston, and yes, I can say the same. How are you?"

"Good! Really good. Just hanging out with the guys…" he nods toward his table of friends. "And you?"

"Thank God," Belle says evasively. "I was just leaving."

"Aww, that's too bad. Well, call me sometime and maybe we can come here together," he winks, and walks off to return to his friends, who laugh and slap him on the back. Someone whistles at her.

Belle groans and turns to Mary Margret. The other mostly-sober woman stands up and smiles. They shared an equal look of understanding. "Are you ready? I think Mulan and Ruby are two sheets to the wind."

"Yeah," Belle said, smiling. They turned to their friends and coaxed them into leaving, and after much talk, they finally agreed to come.

"What about James Prince? He likes you!" Ruby told Belle when they were leaving the Rabbit Hole. "Gave you goo-goo eyes alllllll night."

"James is a player," Mulan hiccupped, "and he's boinking that bitch Jackie."

"Ewwww. So, what 'bout his brother, David?"

"Hey," Mary Margret interjected, "that's my boyfriend."

"Double ewww…."

They argued drunkenly until Mary Margret and Belle could get them home. With their friends safely tucked inside their respective homes, Mary Margret wished Belle a goodnight and departed her at the corner, where they both went in different directs for home.

The night was cool against Belle's skin. Her body shivered; her teeth clattered. It was cold, and her skin-tight, strapless yellow cocktail dress did nothing to warm her. Belle's black flats tapped softly against the concrete. Puffs of steam left her with each exhale.

"My, my, what a pretty little thing you are," oozed a painfully flirtatious voice. A shadow fell across her side from a night lamp, and Belle jumped in surprise.

It was Keith Nottingham.

Keith did not come to the library, but flirted with her on occasion at Granny's. He didn't constantly pester Belle like Gaston, but that didn't make him any better. It could be any day of the week and Belle would always choose Gaston over Keith. Even though she didn't like Gaston.

"Hello, Mr. Nottingham," Belle said politely, walking with more determination. Home was where she needed to be. Surrounded by books and cookies and music.

"And hello-hello to you, my lovely little creature," Keith drawled, leering at her. "It's pretty cold out tonight. My place isn't too far away. Got my heating back on today."

"That's all quite good," Belle said, nodding distantly. "I hope you enjoy it."

Keith put a hand on her elbow. She jerked her arm away. "You could enjoy it with me."

"Thank you but no thank you."

"Come on, babe, I don't bite—hard."

Disgusted, Belle shook her head and began to walk faster. She was actually close to jogging. "I'm not interested."

He scoffed. "Why? Got a man at home?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe? That don't sound right." Belle cringes at his grammar. "I'll give you a good time. Can of beer or two… I got a pretty big bed. A California king."

"No."

Keith was refusing to take no as an answer. Belle was speed walking now, and just up ahead, she saw the library, and sighed in relief. She tightened her arms around her. Across the street stood Mr. Gold's pawnshop. The lights were shining a soft golden glow. Was he still working on those papers?

Shaking her head, she turns to Keith. "I am going home, Mr. Nottingham. By my self."

"I'm amazing company."

"While I'm sure you are, I just do not feel up to having company tonight."

The man sneered. "And you're the proof all librarians are prunes."

Belle really wanted to slap him then. Almost as badly as she wanted to slap Gold earlier. However, she knew Keith was not a forgiving type, or one to respect a woman's boundaries, so she kept her hands to herself. Glaring, Belle hisses, "And you're the proof that men are pigs. Goodnight, Mr. Nottingham."

Just as Belle was reaching for the library's door, with her keys in hand, Keith grabbed her arm and spun her around. His eyes were hard and his breath stank of bitter alcohol. He did let go of her, but cornered her against the doors. "I'm tryin' to be nice, you cunt."

"I'm trying to go home."

"You got a real smart mouth; you can use it in a much better way, like on my dick."

Belle pressed herself harder against the library. Her eyes stung from impending tears, but she refused to. She would not be intimidated by one man.

"I would rather risk getting toxoplasmosis!"

"Why you little—" Before Kieth could get another word out, a shadow loomed over him. The russet-haired beauty gasped aloud as a black and golden shaft came down and struck Keith on the head. He yowled in pain and crumbled to the ground, clutching his crown. "Fuck!"

"Mr. Nottingham," crooned a smooth, air-cutting voice. "I believe the lady said no."

Belle's eyes shot up to meet her savior's.

Mr. Gold stood over Keith with visibly surprised wrath. His dark eyes glared disapprovingly, mouth pursed in a white line. He set his cane down, and folded both hands over the handle in front of him. Leaning against it, he meet Keith's bewildered stare. "I would think an apology is required."

"What the hell is your problem, old man!?" shrieked Keith, swaying as he stood up to face Gold. His eyes burned with rage, and Belle pussyfooted away to watch both men.

Speaking with eerie calm, Gold responds with, "I don't have a problem."

"Fuck off. Belle's my girl, okay? Now bounce."

"Your girl?" the older man echoed darkly. His eyes met hers to the side. "I think not. Miss French, are you affiliated with Mr. Nottingham in an intimate way?"

"No," she says vehemently.

"See? Now, give the lady an apology. Tick-tock, dearie."

"Apologies? Fuck, no. She's askin' for it, the hoe."

Gold's eyebrow quirked. His face remained stoic, otherwise. "Mr. Nottingham, aren't you a few hundred dollars behind on this month's rent? Would you like to discuss your plans on mending that?"

At this, Keith got a bit sheepish. He shoot a look at Belle, who stared helplessly at the two. When she didn't move to stop him, he growled.

"Whatever. Have fun fucking the cripple, Belle."

As Keith turned to leave, Gold's cane flipped up to stop him. The younger man wheezed loudly as it hit his gut, hard. "I didn't hear you give an expression of regret to Miss French."

Teeth gritting, Keith spats at Belle, "Sorry, okay!? God!"

Gold let the other male go, and Keith marched off, swearing every cuss word in the book as he disappeared into the cold night. Silence fell between Belle and her savior. She gaped at him with watery blue eyes in disbelief and aw and love all at once, and he stared at her shoes. Who was this man? Who was this man who listened to her problems, yet chided her interests? Who was this man who accepted her sweets with awkwardness, but said mean things to get her to leave him alone? Who was this man who defended her virtue, but said it was nothing? Mr. Gold, that's who.

"Miss French. I believe you're free to go home, now."

She opened and closed her mouth like an idiot before sound could be formed. "M-Mr. Gold. T-Thank you."

"Do not thank me," he said brusquely, breathing in and fidgeting with his hands. "I was merely pulling you two lovebirds apart. If you haven't noticed, you are directly across from my shop. Public affection does horrors to the concentration. And besides, Mr. Nottingham does owe me."

If it had been months before, Belle would have been deflated and saddened at his indifference. However, seeing his constant shift between being kind and being cold, she figured something out.

Gold was intimidated by her kindness. And like a wild animal, he hissed and growled at her foreignness.

Having this revelation, Belle's heart swelled for him. God, I love him!

"Well," she sniffed, "I'm thanking you anyway. Thank you."

"You already said that."

"I know. I'm thanking you again."

"There you go again. Don't wear my welcome out."

"Mr. Gold," Belle sighed, stepping closer. "I think you are a very layered man with a very soft heart."

He raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I think you need to go to bed, dearie."

"I think you should join me."

Belle didn't quite get what she said until Gold's eyes widened. She blushed a million shades of red.

Maybe it was the drink. Maybe it was Keith's harassment. Maybe it was her sleepiness. Maybe it was stress. No matter what it was, Belle had shamelessly invited Gold to have sex with her. Oh, goodness, what was she doing? Why did she have to open her mouth!? She wasn't as forward as Rum!

Was she?

"Miss French," Gold said, raising a hand to hide half his face. He shut his eyes. "I see you've had one too many."

"Too many of what?"

"Again, I can see your front doors from my shop. Your companions, Miss Lucas, Blanchard, and Hua, quite dragged you away to some… party?" he gestured toward her outfit.

"They made me go, but I wanted to finish my current book tonight."

"Why didn't you insist on staying home, then?"

Ignoring his question, she counters him with, "Why do you work so much?"

Gold frowned. "I believe I'll take my leave now, Miss French."

"No, wait!" she squawked, rushing to meet him as he turned to go. He glares at her, and she has no desire to back down. To her relief, he stops, and leans on his cane, which stands between then.

"What is it now? I have things to do."

"My… my invitation still stands…." She shyly gestured toward the library with her eyes. He glared. Flushed, Belle adds, rather hurriedly, "I-It doesn't have to be anything bad. You could come in for just tea."

Gold sighed deeply and bowed his head. After a moment, he looks up to meet her eyes. "You're offer is tempting, but I am serious when I say I have work to do."

"Even you must rest, Mr. Gold."

His eyes softened. But it was brief. Very brief, and Gold turned to move around her, toward his shop. Away from her.

"Goodnight, Miss French."

"…Goodnight, Mr. Gold."