"Good morning sir." Mary Margaret says cheerfully when he strides past her desk and into his office.
"With me. Right now." He growls and she blinks in surprise and then does as told. He throws his jacket in the vague direction of the coat stand and slams his briefcase on the desk.
"Sir." Mary Margaret looks at him in shock. "What in the world is going on, is everything ok?"
"No, it is bloody well not ok." He says from between gritted teeth and she looks alarmed.
"Is it your knee? What can I do?" She asks and he collapses into his chair, glaring at her.
"It's not my knee and you know it. It is about what you did, how you broke my trust!"
"No, I do not know what I did." She says calmly. "Please enlighten me sir, so I can at least defend myself."
"You told Belle about Bae." He spits and she raises one eyebrow. "You told her to convince me to bring him home."
"Oh, that." She casually sits across from him. "Yes, Belle and I had this conversation a couple days ago. I told her that you are a stubborn bastard when you want to be and that too often the wrong people end up paying that price."
"How dare you?" He yells and Mary Margaret looks up at him, eyes flashing. "That is not your place!"
"Not, it's not, it's yours, but since you sure as hell aren't going to do it, I thought I would give someone a nudge." Her iron spine is coming out now, straightening her up to face him. "Bae is the best child in the world and he deserves happiness, even if you don't think he can find it with you. He wants to come home and I'll be damned if you don't let him. And since clearly I can't talk sense into you, I thought I'd see if Belle had better luck."
"I will not let the chattering of two women tell me how to parent my son!" He roars and she rolls her eyes.
"We're not telling you how to do anything. We're just trying to tell you what to do." She grins as he gapes and flounders for something to say. "Bae should come home for Christmas."
"He'd be happier at school." He grumbles.
"Every kid wants Christmas at home." She reaches out and takes his hand. "Bring him back. If it goes poorly, I'll stop my crusade about all this and never bring it up. Deal?"
"Deal." He says between gritted teeth. "Arrange his travel plans. And call Belle, since I'm assuming she's going to want that information."
"Of course." Mary Margaret does a little curtsey before heading to the door. "Oh, and one more question, sir?"
"Yes?" He demands, irritated.
"When did she become Belle?" With a wink, she shuts the door. He hefts a glass paperweight for a second, then takes a deep breath and thinks better of it. He settles down with work, thinking wryly that someone will pay for the foul mood he's in today.
"Well hello you." Belle smiles when he walks into the kitchen. "I sent Mrs. Potts home, your meal is in the oven. I thought I'd make us some tea tonight, since I have a feeling that I'm in for a fight again tonight."
"Oh, so are we calling what happened last night a fight?" He questions and she turns to him with a smile.
"Our first fight. I have to admit, it was a doozy." She hands him his cup and sits across from him. "I want to talk about it. I want to talk about what you told me last night."
"I'd rather not." He declares and Belle raises an eyebrow.
"I don't care. We're going to." She fixes him with her blue eyes and he's transfixed despite himself. "Because you told me a story last night. And we're built on stories and trust and a lot of tea, aren't we? So talk to me about this. Not long, I promise. But then I'll tell you a story."
"You're going to ask questions now aren't you?" He says tiredly. He's learned in the months since meeting Belle that once she has something that puzzles her, she will stop at nothing to research and figure it out.
"Yes, I am." She's watching him carefully. "Should I remove all breakables within reach or go find the stuff you'd be comfortable breaking? I know you hate that vase in the living room."
"Leave the vase." He traces the rim of the teacup, grazing the missing chip. "My anger is… Controlled now. What questions do you have?"
"You were an addict. That's why you wouldn't take the drugs Whale prescribed. Because you're sober and don't want to relapse." She says quietly and he nods jerkily.
"Nearly 15 years."
"That's amazing, that you've been fighting something that dark inside you for that long." She reaches out and takes his hand, running her thumb over him. The contact sparks something inside him, but he's too busy quelling the urge to run to dwell on it.
"Do not think I am some noble man, Belle. I am a bad, awful man. Do you not understand that I have done horrible, awful things?" He demands and she finishes off the cup of tea before standing and opening the cabinet above the fridge, pulling out a bottle of Johnnie Walker, the expensive blue label. He admires her taste almost as much as he dreads what's coming.
"We're going to need some of this, aren't we?" She muses and he's already grabbing tumblers. "I'm assuming if you have it in your house, that means you won't relapse on it?"
"Pills send me. The drink does nothing. Now what?" He demands. "What else do you have questions about?"
"You." She tosses back her scotch in one go and he watches, impressed, as she refills it without blinking.
"Well then ask away, if you're going to get me drunk." He holds out his glass so she can pour him a double.
"Why do you think you're so awful? Why are you so certain that your son is going to be so miserable if he stays with you?" She asks and he groans. She sits next to him, their knees brushing. "Why are you so insistent on pushing everyone out, that people don't want to be with you?"
"Because in my experience, they don't." He snaps and she just bats her eyes. "My parents didn't want me, my wife didn't want me, I didn't even want me! That's why I turned to the drugs, that's why I turned to work, all to distract me from the fact that I cannot bear the sight of me."
"And what sight is that? What do you see when you look into the mirror, Rodric Mackay Sloan?" She questions.
"I see a boy named Rumford. I see a scared little coward who couldn't do anything." His brogue is thickening in his anger. "I see the crippled man who had to take shelter with someone stronger, the man who couldn't protect what was his. I see a weak bastard."
"Your real name is Rumford. You changed it. Why?" She leans forward, hand on his good knee.
"Why would I keep the name my parents gave me when that was all they did for me?"
"Because names mean something. That's why you picked a new one. Because you think it will separate you from the man you were." She brings her hand up to his face.
"Anything." He whispers. "Anything to keep me from going back to that. Anything in the world."
"So why do you think you're a monster?" She presses and he stares down into his scotch.
"Because I am. Because I know what people say about me. That I'm a beast, I'm the wicked man that takes their money and waits, with baited breath, to steal their homes and businesses out from under them. I am wicked and I take joy from accumulating power and favor and money from people. I like it, I'm not like you, I don't like helping people like you do." He sighs and can't help but lean into her touch, just a little. "You talk about that good inside of me Belle, and it's not there, it just isn't."
"Do you remember what else I said?" She asks and gets up. Air rushes to fill the space where she was and he gasps, just a little, because it seems colder when she's gone.
"You said you have darkness in you." He eyes her as she refills their glasses and comes back, scooting herself just a little closer again, her knee between his legs. "And tell me Belle, how can someone like you have anything dark in such a beautiful, light soul?"
"Because no one is good and pure all the time." There's a look on Belle's face that makes his skin crawl in a pleasurable way. "And sometimes I am bad and wicked and I like it. Just like sometimes you are good and kind and you like it. That's why I'm here and you smile when I make your coffee in the morning. And that's why I laughed when you threw that glass chess set against the wall. What did Regina do that made you so mad?"
"She has the incredible talent of being short-sighted and dim. And I have the incredible misfortune of being the one she most likes to consult with." He explains, watching her lips twitch in amusement.
"So do you see?" Belle leans until their foreheads are pressed together. "We are all good and bad and lovely and wicked. Do you see, Rum? You're not a monster, you're a man."
"And you are too good." He stares at her with open admiration. "How? How is one person so good even in this world?"
"Yoga." She grins widely. "A lot of yoga. You're already on the right track. So you see? We'll figure it out. Together."
"You, Miss French, know more of my secrets than one person does." He looks at her with open fear and she raises a glass to that. "And even if admitting it makes me a coward, I am terrified you won't keep them."
"Don't be." Belle closes her eyes and moves so her head is resting in the crook of his neck. "I'm contractually obligated by law to keep them, remember?" He can't help the chuckle that escapes him.
"There really are no women like you, are there?"
"I'm sure there are lots of yoga teaching, sushi loving, broke former med students that are essentially homeless." She grins at him, getting up and putting their dishes in the sink. "I'm just the one you got stuck with."
"He's coming home." He admits, the drink going to his head finally. It dulls his senses, simplifying it down to three trains of thought. He wants to tell Belle who his son is, he wants to scoop her up into his arms and kiss her senseless, and he needs to go to the bathroom.
"Baen?" She looks at him in surprise. "Really? You're going to bring him back for Christmas?"
"I'll leave you a credit card. You can get decorations. Take Mrs. Potts, I'm sure she'll love the outing." He gets up, stumbling just slightly and Belle is there to take his hand in support.
"Do you mind me being here for it? Honestly?" She asks, as they stagger down the hallway together.
"Belle, I'm not sure I'd get through it if you weren't here." He stops them at his doorway, her face blurring around the edges. "Please, don't go." She gently runs her fingers through his tangled hair.
"Don't worry. I won't. I'll stay." She assures him and then trudges to her own room. He's too much of a coward to tell her that he hadn't wanted her to leave his side at all.
He's awoken the next morning with a pounding headache and a blaring alarm clock. He groans loudly, rolling over and attempting to stop it. After fumbling around with it for a couple long moments, it goes quiet and he leans back, holding his temples firmly between his hands so his head doesn't fall apart. Without bothering to get dressed he heads for the kitchen, thinking only about coffee and getting something in his stomach.
"Tell me there's coffee." He mutters, peeking through his cracked eyelids and seeing that Belle is slumped at the table.
"There is." She slides him a cup and he takes it gratefully. "I know I am obligated to do therapy with you this morning but how mad would you be at me if I asked that we do it here instead of the studio?"
"I will make you a new deal." He flinches at her voice. "We both go back to bed. Have a sick day. Promise to never drink scotch again, and do our session tonight, when I don't feel the overwhelming urge to vomit."
"Well, you drive a hard bargain Mr. Gold." She mummers and he looks at her in surprise.
"I thought we decided on a different name last night." He says softly and she looks up, pushing a curl that's escaped her messy bun out of her face.
"I didn't know if I was allowed to use it in the daylight." Her face breaks into a sunny smile. "If you don't like it, I'll go back to Sloan, but Rum…" She gets up and stands beside him, putting her palm on his cheek. "Fits."
"If you say so dearie." He holds very still, not wanting to scare her touch away. She pauses a moment longer then yawns.
"Then I'm going to go read, very, very quietly." She informs him and disappears. It's not until she's gone does he realize she's one of the first women in recent memory to know his real name.
Mrs. Potts, surprised to see the two of them sitting contentedly in the library with coffee, makes them a brunch and seems amused that Belle can only stomach down toast. If she saw the empty scotch bottle on the counter, she says nothing and simply puts it in the recycling. Afterwards, he decides that work can wait no longer and leaves Belle in the library to head to his office.
"Sir, are you sick?" Mary Margaret sounds worried when he calls and he smiles, just slightly at her concern.
"Simply feeling under the weather. I will be working from home. I just wanted to check in."
"Oh, well, everything's under control!" She sounds relieved and cheerfully updates him about the status of things. She ends with a long pause and then requests, "And could you put Belle on speaker?"
"For?" He asks, standing and bringing the phone with him to the library, where Belle is engrossed in a book.
"I've got Baen's travel plans. I figured that Belle would want to hear them too, if she's staying." Mary Margaret explains and Belle looks up, closing her book and raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, Mary Margaret, I'm here." She calls and he sits in the chair nearest her. "We both are."
"Well, Baen's flight will arrive at 7:30 pm at LaGuardia on Tuesday." She explains and Belle looks at him.
"If you'll still be at work, I can accompany Jefferson to pick him up." She says quietly and he pats her hand.
"No, I think it's best I go. You remain here, we can have tea when we return." He manages a nervous smile and Belle nods.
"He'll fly back out in three weeks." Mary Margaret tells them. "And not a moment sooner."
"Alright." He growls. "Anything else Ms. Blanchard?"
"Yes, hey Belle, are you under the weather too or will there still be class this evening?" There's humor in her voice and Belle disguises a smile with a pretend cough.
"I think I've caught what Mr. Gold has. I'm sure I'll be over it by class tomorrow. I'll see you then?"
"Of course. Have a good day!" She hangs up and with a wry smile, he sets the phone next to Belle.
"I do believe that the presumptuous tone my assistant is taking is directed at us." He tries to make it into a joke, and Belle laughs, throwing one hand across his chest before getting up and stretching.
"Well, sharing a little bug sounds better than admitting we're hung over and needed rest." She smiles and holds out her hand. He looks at it then her face with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes?"
"Credit card, remember? I have your blessing to turn this place into Christmas." She reminds him merrily. "So you go work so you'll be in a better mood, and I will make this place look like Rockefeller Center."
"Tree and all, I'm sure." He hands over a platinum card. "No decorations in my office, I beg of you."
"We'll see." She says mischievously and disappears.
"Why do I keep making stupid decisions in regards to that woman?" He wonders aloud, heading back to his office.
"What in the world is going on in the foyer?" Mrs. Potts asks, appearing with more tea and he looks up.
"Let me guess. Belle has returned with boxes. Lots and lots of boxes. Probably green and red boxes, full of tinsel, sparkling, and smelling of pine." He sorts the papers on his desk neatly.
"Yes, how'd you know?" Mrs. Potts frowns slightly at him.
"You better go help her set up Christmas, unless you want your house steamrolled, Mrs. Potts." He informs her and she goes, astonished. When he finally leaves his office, he sees the beginning of Christmas.
"I think that'll be all today, Mrs. Potts." Belle looks around at the few decorations they have put up. "Why don't you go? I can make us some leftovers and we just have our session tonight."
"Are you sure?" The elderly woman looks at him for confirmation and he gives a little wave of his fingers. "Well, I have to say Miss French, I've never gotten to leave so early so often."
"That's because I'm here now to remind him to eat." Belle grins at her. "Go home, put your feet up."
"You two have a nice night." She beams and totters off.
"This doesn't seem like much." He comments, looking around at the decorations she's put up in the foyer.
"You wait. I'll have tomorrow while you're at work to complete the rest. I was thinking though, we'd save the tree for when Baen gets home. I wasn't certain if you had any traditions you'd prefer just be the two of you but…" She disappears behind the fridge door. "Let me know."
"No, no traditions." He admits. "Usually just gifts the morning of, not much more. What about you Belle, don't you have a family to celebrate with?" Belle pokes her head out, forehead wrinkled.
"If I'm intruding, please just tell me."
"No, not at all." He says hastily. "I just don't want to take you away from your family." The lie is sweet in his mouth.
"Oh, you won't." She breaks into a smile. "My dad is going down south this year. He… Misses my mom pretty bad around this time. He's wanted to go to this convention for gardening for years now, and I told him this year to go. I figured that being somewhere warm would help take his mind off things."
"You're a good daughter." He observes as she starts cooking.
"No, not at all. We fight more often than we should, and I'm trying to change that, but he just… He's so invested in what he thinks is my best future. If he'd had his way, I'd be married with a dozen kids by now, and never have gone past my high school graduation."
"A mind like yours should not be wasted." He says fiercely and means it. She gives a little shrug.
"Well, I like to think that it hasn't. I certainly wish I could travel more, but living in New York can be enough." She turns and gives him a sly smile. "Besides, a certain man once told me that I'm needed to make sure he doesn't run. And I keep my promises."
AN: A little explanation in response to a couple reviews -(which are so amazing, please keep them coming!) This Mr. Gold is derived from the wonderful character of Rumple/the Dark One/Mr. Gold in our lovely OUAT universe, but since it is an AU, I've also added elements of Bobby himself and other characters that he's played- Gaz, Begbie, etc. Hence the addiction, the tattoo, the Johnnie Walker reference, and more that you'll see coming up! Please send in a review, they're bright shiny parts of my day!