Four

For three days and nights, Rose waited impatiently for Mr. Gold to come. She desperately wanted to thank him for getting her out of that awful place. More importantly, she wanted to put to rest the mystery surrounding their relationship. Just who was he to her? A long-lost uncle? A family friend? Whoever he was, he cared for her, deeply. That much was certain. Even the best actor's eyes couldn't have faked such affection and concern. But how could she feel such familiarity for, and be defended with such devotion by, a man of whom she had absolutely no memory? The question gnawed relentlessly at her mind. Struggle as she might, however, the answer would not come.

Apart from this, her time at the clinic was almost blissful. Rose relished the presence of sunlight and fresh air. During her first unmonitored shower in years, the dingy sanitorium uniform vanished from her room, as did her hospital-white bedding. Her twin-sized bed was now draped in a plush yellow comforter. Gold, she thought with a soft smile, not yellow. The sender couldn't have made his identity clearer if he'd left a handwritten note. A change of clothes had also been laid out for her. The comfy sweatpants, T-shirt and hoodie were far from stylish, but they were soft and warm.

Underneath her pillow, she found another gift – a weathered old storybook, illustrated in nineteenth-century style ink drawings. Beauty and the Beast, she read from the cover, smelling the musty pages and sighing happily. She'd always loved fairytales, but that had been her favorite. How could Mr. Gold have known that? Maybe I knew him when I was little, she mused. Maybe that's why I don't remember him, but I know I can trust him. It made more sense than any other theory.

The book was the best gift of all. It helped her pass the time, and kept her racing mind occupied. Her fingers traced again and again over one of the drawings, one of the Beast and Belle bowing to one another while he presented her with a rose. For some reason she couldn't identify, it tugged at her heart and wouldn't let go.

On the third night, she had her first session with Dr. Hopper. She found the bespectacled man to be cheerful and kind, if a little jumpy at times. By the end of the hour, she wasn't ready to tell him everything, but he was well on his way to gaining her trust.

That night, Rose fell asleep as she was reading, the book dropping from her hands. She'd been thinking about how detailed it was, expanding the story she knew into a much deeper, darker sort of romance, when the dream began…

A goblin face, golden with a hideous greenish cast, stared at her longingly. In the dream, she wasn't afraid of him; in fact, just the opposite. Whatever or whoever this unsightly creature was, she ached for his touch, his love, to be held in his arms. She tried to kiss him, but he pushed her away. She fell, but further down than the floor, into a black pit. Landing hard, she forced herself up on hands and knees and looked around. The room was shadowed, lit only by two far-off torches, revealing figures in hooded red robes that terrified her. The figures chanted, a dark melody of garbled words, and the closest one came towards her holding a red-hot poker. "Through pain, you will be purified. We punish your body to save your soul…"

"No!" Rose came up from the bed with a start, clutching at her clammy skin. Thrashing in her sleep, she'd kicked the golden comforter off. Cold and frightened, she sat up and drew the comforter back over her, nuzzling into it like a child with a security blanket. Somehow, being held in the golden fabric made her feel safe.

He said nothing would keep him away, she thought, trembling as she laid back down. So, why hasn't he come?

*LL*

Mr. Gold looked into the mirror and sighed. He didn't know why he bothered. The man staring back at him wasn't handsome and never would be, but at least he was presentable. His long hair was recently trimmed and clean, his teeth brushed and face washed, and his pinstriped suit, violet tie and shined shoes were impeccable. He picked up his bottle of cologne, but put it back down on the dresser without spraying it. This wasn't a social call. If today went well, that might be in the cards at some point, but he wasn't going to assume that. She'd loved him in the other world, not this one. In this one, he was still a stranger. Her affection was by no means guaranteed.

He checked in at the front desk and found she was outside for a brief, supervised stroll on the small walking path behind the facility. Nodding, he headed outside to one of the benches at the start of the path and seated himself there, keeping watch.

About ten minutes passed before he saw her familiar frame heading around the bend with an orderly. Her hair was lighter, longer, wilder, and her eyes haunted, but it was still his Belle. Nothing could make her less beautiful in his eyes. He smiled softly when she saw him, but was fully taken aback when she started to run towards him, ignoring the cries of the orderly behind her. In a matter of seconds she was tightly pressed against him, her arms flung about his neck. His heart leapt. It was all he could do to breathe.

"Three days," Rose accused, mercifully letting him go and sitting beside him on the bench. "Today is four. You said you would come!"

The orderly caught up, and Mr. Gold gave him an obligatory nod, letting him know it was okay and even preferred for him to take a break. The young man in the white scrubs headed inside and gave the two some space.

"And I did. I'm here now," he pointed out, studying every detail of her china-doll face, re-learning it by heart. "I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner."

A forgiving smile brightened her face. Surprisingly, she took the closer of his hands from his cane and held it between her cold fingers. "Thank you. For getting me out of that place. For everything. The gifts – the book –"

His chest caught. He was about to explode from the mere touch of her hand. "Did you like it? The book," he clarified, squeezing her palm.

"I love it!" she assured him. "This might sound a bit strange, but there's something almost familiar about it. Like I've seen it before." Rose's vivid, inquisitive eyes held his gaze. "It's the same with you. I feel like I should know you, but… if I do, I can't remember where or when we met."

"Well, we haven't seen one another in a long time," Mr. Gold confessed sadly, "but your face hasn't changed since the first time I saw you."

"Then, I knew you as a child," Rose thought aloud. "I guess that explains it. Are we related?"

"We're not blood kin, if that's what you're asking," he informed her, "but we do share a bond of sorts. We have from the moment you came into this world." Delicately, he skirted the edge of the truth, doing his best not to lie. "I suppose you could call me your godfather."

She started to speak, but he interrupted her, relating the rest of his loosely accurate account while he had the nerve. "I know. It doesn't make any sense that you don't remember me, if I was that close to your family. The whole story's a bit complicated, so I'll try to keep it short.

"I saved your father's life once. Since then, he and I have had business dealings, some of which he's had trouble keeping. Rather than come to me, he avoided me, and he made sure to keep you far away, knowing you were dear to me. That's why I feel partially responsible for what became of you. He may have taken out his hatred of me on you, and… I can't bear the thought of your suffering at his hands, when I could have helped you."

Even at this sparse, slightly modified version of events, Rose was nearly in tears. "If I was so dear to you, why did you never come to see me? Why didn't you try to help me?"

"Because I didn't know you needed help. I didn't even know you were alive," Mr. Gold explained, barely fighting back tears himself. "I was lied to. I was told you were dead. If I had known any sooner…"

Again, she launched herself at him. He held her this time, as overwhelmed with love as his Rose was with gratitude. It was more than he'd hoped for, and he treasured her embrace, just happy that he had her affection.

Rose clung to him and wept, releasing all the anguish she'd contained for so many years in wracking sobs. Mr. Gold's arms held her quietly, but firmly, letting her know she was safe and protected. With him, she could be vulnerable and exposed. There was no need to cloak her sorrow behind a front of bravery. From now on, he would be her strength.