A/N: Were you aware that I didn't own Once Upon a Time? No? Well, now you know.
I'd just like to say that this story is absolutely flowing out of my head. I've never written this fast (can't promise it'll last) and it's all thanks to you guys. Your support has been totally overwhelming. You all seem to be hoping that Belle gives Gary the boot sooner rather than later. It won't be this chapter, but rest assured, his time will soon come…
Claire: I couldn't reply directly to you, but apologies that you didn't get your beauty sleep! I must confess that I've missed quite a bit of sleep writing it. Really great comments, thanks. That's a great idea about Belle by the way. I really love it when they're fighting, no holds barred!
Guest: couldn't reply directly either, but thanks – I'll do my best to keep the insightful bastard making his pointed comments. He does back off a bit in this chapter though.
All Hallows' Eve 31, cheesyteal'c, Wondermorena, SFA, RoxyMoron, spacecats, Twyla Mercedes, michellelramsey1, paulawer, Erik's True Angel and Helena Menezes: thanks for your comments and continued support, here's the next chapter!
Gary had turned up on Saturday afternoon as usual, and Ruby had decided to make herself scarce and go to Snow's for the evening, leaving the two of them alone. He had a sulky expression on his face which Belle thought didn't bode well, and it wasn't long before the subject Belle had been hoping to avoid came up in the conversation.
"So, did he make a pass at you?" he demanded, and Belle rolled her eyes, shoving her hand into the bowl of popcorn between them.
"No, he did not," she snapped. "And I'm more than capable of telling him where to go if he does, okay?"
Gary flicked through the channels on the TV, not really seeing anything. "I don't want you seeing him again," he said firmly, and Belle folded her arms with a frown.
"I made a deal with him," she said, equally firmly.
"So break it."
"You know I can't. He's already paid my fees to the university. I owe him."
"Yeah, and we both know how he wants paying," muttered Gary.
"Gary, I've told him I'm not going to be working at the shop, but I still need to keep to the contract I have. Do you seriously think I can't have dinner with a man without letting him seduce me?"
"Ah!" Gary sat up, finger wagging. "So he has tried!"
Belle slumped back, frustrated. "Actually, all that happened on Thursday was that we had an almighty bust-up, okay? I don't see us growing all that close."
"It's just not right, Belle," he complained. "Do you know what all the guys have been saying to me? I keep having to defend you the whole time. Against Gold, of all people! You have no idea how much fun they're having, coming up with things you two might be doing. It's killing me."
Belle's frown deepened. "Then they're idiots. Are you saying you don't trust me?"
"I don't trust him," he snapped, and she threw up her hands.
"Look, I don't give a crap what your friends think…" she began.
"But you should," he persisted. "Are you telling me what your friends think means nothing? What do they think, anyway?"
Belle hesitated. The truth was that her friends thought she should ditch Gary, Gold or no Gold, but she wasn't about to tell him that. Luckily, he hadn't waited for an answer.
"How would you feel if I was going out and seeing other people?" he demanded. "Maybe I should. Maybe it would bring you to your senses."
"I'm not seeing anyone!" she snapped. "No matter what he feels, as far as I'm concerned it's work. If you're saying that you think it's okay to cheat on me, I think we need to be having a very different conversation."
He backpedalled hurriedly. "I wasn't saying that, I just meant – I wanted you to see it from my point of view. It feels like there are three of us in this relationship." He took her shoulders in his large hands. "Come on, Belle, please don't be mad. I love you, that's all."
His eyes were wide, his expression pleading, and Belle softened slightly.
"I know," she sighed. "I realise this is hard for you, but you have to believe that I would never cheat on you. I'm a one-man woman, okay?"
"Then he needs to back off," he said moodily, and Belle sighed again.
"If it makes you feel any better, Emma told him the same thing," she said, and he perked up.
"Really? Remind me to thank her."
Belle refrained from saying that Emma had not been protecting his interests. She stroked his cheek in a way she knew he liked.
"Look, I know this isn't ideal, but it's what I agreed to. You don't have anything to worry about as far as I'm concerned, and Mr Gold said himself that he wouldn't approach me unless I wanted him to. Which I don't," she added firmly. "So please try to let it go, okay?"
He nodded reluctantly, and she kissed him, balking slightly as he crushed her against him possessively. Later that evening, they went to bed, which seemed to lift some of Gary's paranoia. He fell asleep immediately afterwards, and Belle lay on her back in the darkness, listening to him snoring softly, her mind whirling. It had been nice, but perhaps that was the problem. It was only ever just – nice. Even in the beginning, when their relationship had been blossoming, when he had first taken her to bed (and he had been her first), she had never felt the fireworks that she had heard other girls talk about. He hadn't made her stomach flip and her heart pound and her head explode. It wasn't as though she had never come with him, but it seemed to be more by accident than by design, when she was in control of the act. Foreplay wasn't really something he put much effort into. One of the reasons she was feeling uncomfortable spending time around Gold, was that the unfamiliar feelings he caused in her were exactly what she had been missing with Gary. It was as though there was electricity crackling between them, causing her skin to hum and a tightness low in her belly. Belle thought that if he were to touch her, she might just explode. She thought of how his hands would feel on her, sliding beneath her skirt and up her thighs, the darkness that would be in his eyes as he drew her close, and felt a sudden dull throbbing in her loins.
Trying to banish the thoughts, she turned on her side, snuggling against Gary's hot and hairy chest. She knew that her boyfriend loved her, and she didn't feel that she could dump him just because of what Gold had said. It was true that her relationship was not quite what she had been hoping for, but she felt that she owed it to Gary to give him a chance. She thought briefly of what Gold had said regarding her propensity to put the feelings of others before her own, but felt that this was by no means a bad trait. It was then that she made her decision. She would give it until her birthday in December. If she was still feeling indifferent to Gary, she owed it to him, and to herself, to end it. Quite what that would mean for her relationship with Gold was another matter.
Gold had taken Emma's words to heart, and kept his distance from Belle. He did not mention his previous expressions of interest to her, or comment on her relationship with Gary, for which she was grateful. The first few meetings between them were awkward, but eventually their relationship settled into a sort of tense politeness. Belle no longer worked long hours at the shop, preferring to collect her work from Gold and complete it either at home or in the university library. He hated the distance between them, but had accepted that he needed to give her some space. He treated her like one might treat a wild animal that one had found in the house, stepping around her quietly, not making any sudden movements, and waiting for her to come to him. The moment things became something approaching comfortable between them was not foreseen by either.
Belle had gone for her usual Sunday run one morning in early December, taking one of the paths out by the old toll bridge into the woods. The forest smelt incredible, of pine resin and damp earth, and she took the cold Storybrooke air deep into her lungs as she ran, her mind emptying itself of all the thoughts that had been plaguing her as she concentrated on how her legs felt beneath her, the rhythmic pad of her trainers against the forest path. Once she had rounded the old wishing well and headed back to the road, Belle let her legs open out into a long, loping stride that she knew she could keep up for an hour or so.
By the time she reached the outskirts of Storybrooke she was panting and her legs were beginning to feel pleasantly heavy. A light rain was falling, soaking her flushed cheeks and running down the groove of her upper lip. She had the hood of her sweater pulled up, but tendrils of her hair had snaked loose and hung limp and heavy with water. She pounded down the hill towards the church, and wound her way through the wrought-iron gate of the cemetery so she could cut through the churchyard to the street on the other side. Looking through the fine drizzle across the neat rows of granite headstones, she slowed her pace to a jog, trainers squishing dully against wet leaves. Ahead of her, a figure suddenly stood up from where it had been crouching, and Belle started as she recognised Gold. He had his back to her, an umbrella keeping the rain from him, and did not appear to have seen her. There was a bunch of fresh white lilies by the headstone he was standing in front of. She trotted over with a smile of greeting on her face, which died as she read the inscription on the grave over his shoulder:
Bailey Neal Gold
Born 8 December 1979
Died 8 December 1993
Beloved Son
"I'm so sorry," she said softly. He didn't start. She felt that he'd known she was there. "When you said you visited him every Sunday…"
"I know." His voice was barely more than a whisper. "I didn't want to talk about it."
She bit her lip. "Do you want to be alone?"
He sighed, gripping the handle of his cane tightly. "I don't know," he admitted. Her heart ached for him, for his loss, for the devastation in his face. It was more raw emotion than she had ever seen him display. She shivered a little; the cold was starting to get to her now that she had stopped moving.
"Can I come under your umbrella?" she asked, and he turned to face her properly, inclining his head. She ducked under gratefully, linking her arm through his, and they stood in silence for a moment. She could feel the sadness and loss rolling off him in waves.
"It would have been his birthday," she said sadly, and he nodded.
"Aye." She had noticed that his accent grew thicker when he was feeling some strong emotion; it had been the same when they had fought all those weeks ago. She found herself wondering how it would sound at the height of passion, and blushed slightly, feeling that her thoughts were highly inappropriate at that moment.
"Will you tell me about him?" she asked, wondering if he would close himself off, as usual. To her surprise he nodded again.
"His mother and I – we were teenagers when we met, when we had Bae," he began. "Young and stupid, but I tried to make a go of it, when she told me she was pregnant. Anyway, It didn't take her long to tire of me. She left when Bae was five, ran off with a sailor named Jones." His mouth flattened in a grimace. "Such a cliché. It was not long after we'd moved to Boston so I could go to law school. When Bae was ten she came back, wanting to be a mother all of a sudden. Bae and I had moved to Storybrooke two years earlier. I thought it would be better for him to grow up in a small town like this. It's a good place for children." His face softened as he remembered, and she felt deeply for him. "I should have told her to get lost, but I thought…" He sighed, looked at the ground.
"You thought it would be good for him to know his mother," supplied Belle gently, and he nodded.
"I had custody, but I allowed her to see him every other weekend," he continued. "The weekend of his fourteenth birthday he was supposed to be with me, but she begged and pleaded to take him. I let her, and I've regretted that decision every day for the past twenty years."
He looked at the ground, his mouth twisting bitterly, and she squeezed his arm gently, trying to send him some comfort through her touch. He raised his head once more. "When she didn't bring him back at five, as agreed, I knew something was wrong. The police came to my house at ten that night." He shook his head slowly at the memory. "When I opened the door and saw them standing there...well, I knew what it meant." He swallowed hard, looking at the ground again. "It was a car crash. Millie died instantly. Bae held on until they reached the hospital. I never even got to see him."
His hands were tightening on his cane, knuckles whitening. Even after all those years, Belle could see that the pain was as raw as it had been at the start.
"Jones had been drinking. He was charged for the deaths, but there was a problem with the prosecution's case, and it was thrown out." His voice was snarling. "He walked free from court with this smug grin on his face that made me want to kill him in the most painful way possible."
"I'm so sorry," Belle said, with feeling. He shrugged, and she placed a hand over his, squeezing gently. His fingers were very cold. She wondered how long he had been standing there. He let out a sigh.
"It's the waste that really gets me," he said quietly. "The missed opportunities. Bae would be thirty four now. I imagine sometimes how it would have been to take him to university, to see him graduate. He might have been a father by now. So many possibilities snuffed out by the selfish actions of a moron." Anger flashed in his eyes, and Belle squeezed his hand again, pressing herself closer against him. She wanted to put her arms around him, but held back, unsure of her welcome. He took a deep, hitching breath, not looking at her.
"They say I'm bitter and twisted," he said sardonically. "Perhaps I have good reason, what would you say?"
Belle sighed, and turned to face him. "I say we go and get hot chocolate at Granny's," she declared. "My treat." She squeezed his hand again, looking up at him. "Only when you're ready, of course. I'll stay here with you as long as you want."
Gold smiled despite himself. "I am in your hands." He turned slightly towards her. "Thank you, Belle."
She smiled, shivering slightly, and he frowned, handing her the umbrella and his cane and pulling off his coat. She started to protest as he wrapped it around her shoulders, but its warmth, his warmth, and his scent were too good to pass up. She sent him a tremulous smile as he pulled it closed in front of her, and took back his umbrella. He stepped forward then, running his hand over the top of the gravestone.
"Goodbye," he said softly, making Belle's heart ache for him all over again. Sighing, he turned back to her, and took his cane from her, gesturing to the path ahead. "Shall we?"
After that encounter, Belle once more felt comfortable in his presence. She soon relaxed and became her usual playful self, linking her arm through his as they walked and squeezing his shoulder as she said goodnight, although she still took her work away with her rather than sit in the shop. She felt that the simple act of sharing something with him that others didn't know had brought down the barriers that had been hastily erected between them, and she was glad.
The following week Gold pushed open the door to Granny's diner to get a coffee, and was pleasantly surprised to see that Belle was sitting at one of the tables. She was reading Jane Eyre while eating lasagne, which in itself was a feat that impressed him. She seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to not getting food on her clothes, putting the next forkful of meat and sauce into her mouth just before it could drip, despite being thoroughly absorbed by her book. He watched her for a moment before stepping nearer.
"Miss French," he said quietly, and she looked up with a start, her face breaking into a beautiful smile. He felt warmed by it, and realised that she was the only person in town that smiled when he approached. He stamped on that realisation by remembering that in her eyes he was technically her boss, she was well-paid to smile at him, and she probably took it in turns with the Lucas girl to throw insults in his direction every evening. The thoughts made him swallow his answering smile, and his mouth worked before settling into its usual knowing smirk.
"Mr Gold," she said warmly, as though she was actually pleased to see him. "Would you like to join me for lunch?"
"Just coffee, I think." He mimed lifting a cup to his mouth to Granny, and she gave him a brusque nod of understanding. He slid into the seat opposite Belle, and she closed her book with an almost regretful sigh.
"Jane Eyre?" he remarked, eyebrows twitching. "I thought you would be more of a Pride and Prejudice sort of girl."
Belle giggled. "Oh, I love that one too!" she admitted. "But if I have to pick one, I prefer Jane Eyre. I admire her bravery, how she doesn't take the easy path, but walks away from everything she loves because it's the right thing to do, and she doesn't go back until the time is right." She leant forward with a conspiratorial glint in her eyes that he found adorable. "Plus, I've always had a bit of a soft spot for Mr Rochester. He's – flawed, fallible. He seems more real than Mr Darcy."
His mouth twitched at her enthusiasm.
"I believe you won't be working at the university next week," he said, and she nodded.
"Christmas holidays," she said, and tilted her head to the side, giving him an amused look. "Am I right in thinking that I get Christmas off?"
"I believe the contract stated as much," he allowed, resting his arms on the table and leaning towards her slightly. "How on earth will you fill your time in my absence?"
Belle chuckled. "I have a pile of papers to grade. Plus, I'm going to my parents' place this weekend."
"Until when?" he asked, and she grinned.
"Only for the weekend. It's my birthday. Not only do I get presents, but I also get to avoid Christmas with my mother, so it's a win-win, as far as I'm concerned." She giggled, nodding towards Granny. "I'm spending Christmas with the girls, instead. We all go to Granny's house and help with the dinner, then it's games and booze and falling asleep on the sofa in front of It's a Wonderful Life, or something."
"I see." He smiled at her as Granny placed his coffee in front of him, and Belle rested her elbows on the table, lacing her fingers together and resting her chin on top of them.
"Let me guess," she said teasingly. "You'll be skulking at home on your own, drinking eggnog out of the carton and wishing you could find something on the TV to watch other than Christmas movies."
He smirked slightly. "Rest assured, I will have plenty with which to amuse myself."
"No doubt," she said with a grin. "So you're not planning on a Christmas full of whisky and self-loathing, then?"
"Well, perhaps only Christmas Eve," he said with a grin, and her eyes sparkled at him as she finished her lasagne.
"You could always come over the day after," she suggested casually. "Ruby and I are planning a party on the twenty-sixth, you're more than welcome to come."
"Thank you," he said, and meant it, although he wasn't sure at this stage whether he would go. She noted that he had not given a definitive answer.
"The offer's there," she said easily. "It is Thursday night, after all." She tapped his arm playfully. "You should get your money's worth from me while you can, Mr Gold."
"And who exactly will be at this elegant soirée?" he enquired, picking up on her gentle flirting and leaning a little closer. She huffed air through her cheeks.
"Oh, Emma, Snow, a couple of Snow's friends, Archie, Graham, a few of the other people from uni…"
He smiled again. "An evening with a bunch of people who don't particularly like me? Where do I sign up?"
She chuckled appreciatively, and he made his decision.
Gold had given Jefferson his assignment following his argument with Belle, but it had been several weeks before the man reported back to him with anything worth hearing. After meeting Belle in the diner and making his plans for at least one day of the festive season, Gold let Jefferson into the house later that evening. He raised a curious eyebrow as the taller man threw himself down onto the sofa and crossed his long legs, his velvet frock coat looking a little rumpled, his violet silk shirt showing damp spots where the snow had fallen on him.
"I wouldn't say no to a drink," said Jefferson, rubbing the warmth back into his hands with a small grin on his face. Gold rolled his eyes, and poured them both a brandy. The other man sat up immediately, taking a swallow and letting out a sigh of satisfaction. Gold waited, and Jefferson eventually fixed him with a beady eye.
"Your suspicions were correct," he said eventually. "Took a while though."
Gold smirked in satisfaction. "I see. Is it serious?"
"I don't know about that," admitted Jefferson. "Although I guess I could find out. It's happened twice that I know of. Seems to be a Sunday and Monday night thing."
Of course. That made sense, certainly. Gold rolled his brandy glass back and forth between his hands, warming the liquid within.
"Did you have any difficulties?" he asked, and Jefferson pulled a face, pushing his top hat over at a rakish angle.
"Only if you count having to be really camp to pull off the 'concerned gay acquaintance' thing," he remarked, and Gold snorted.
"You revel in being camp," he said sternly. "And I thought your interests were always – flexible – anyway."
"Hey, there's no-one more flexible than me," protested Jefferson. "Just bear in mind that my OTT behaviour these past few weeks means it's unlikely I'll ever have any success with those I've become 'friends' with."
"My heart bleeds," said Gold dryly, and Jefferson chuckled.
"So you have one? I should tell Sidney, that'd make the front page…"
"Was there anything else?" interrupted Gold, frowning, and the other man grinned.
"Other than payment, I think we're done," he confirmed. Gold grumbled something, and fished out his chequebook.
"And so to phase two," he said decidedly, when he had handed over the cheque. "I need you to let me know when the time is right for a visit."
Jefferson threw back his brandy in one gulp, making Gold wince. "I'll text you," he said firmly. "The rest is up to you."
Gold smiled.
The next day he was working on an old clock, and had just replaced one of the cogs, when he heard the shop's bell tinkle. He wiped the grease from his hands with a cloth, took off the apron he was wearing and picked up his cane, walking through to the shop.
"So, this is what you get up to in this sleepy little town." A familiar voice made Gold's head jerk upwards, and he saw a tall man with curly blond hair streaked with grey looking over the items in the display cabinet to his right. Frowning, Gold crossed quickly to the door, flipping the sign to 'closed'. He strode into the back room, motioning to the man to follow him.
"Mr King," he said coldly, turning to face the man and planting his cane firmly between his feet. "What the devil brings you to Storybrooke?"
"Business," said King genially. "What else?"
"I already told you," said Gold softly, his eyes flashing. "You and I have no business that I wish to discuss."
"I beg to differ," said King mildly, beginning to pace back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back. "You do recall those little items I was seeking? The ones you were unable to locate?"
Gold smiled thinly. "Ah, yes. An unfortunate turn of events, that. It's not often that I am unable to satisfy a client." His smile widened slightly. "My apologies."
King waved a benevolent hand. "No matter. I've had some of my men making their own enquiries. We tracked one to a pawn shop in Boston, but it's no longer there. The owner is very kindly going through his extensive records for me, so I'm confident I'll have it soon. As luck would have it, it appears that I may be close to recovering one of the others as well."
Gold's stomach plummeted, but his face remained impassive. "Indeed?"
"Yes." King stared at him. "They believe that it's somewhere in Storybrooke."
Gold looked faintly surprised. "That seems unlikely."
"I agree, and yet, that's the latest information we have on the item." King stopped pacing and looked at him. "Which brings us to the purpose of my visit."
Gold's hands tightened on the handle of his cane. "I already told you that I have no interest in what you are seeking."
"Then you can have no interest in preventing me from recovering it myself."
"I wouldn't say that your conclusion is necessarily accurate. Perhaps I wish for no-one to obtain it."
"Well, now you're aware of my interest, perhaps you'll agree to not standing in my way while I locate it."
"Just one problem with that," said Gold pleasantly. "This is my town."
King sighed. "I'm aware of that, which is why I came in person. You know why I want the item…"
"I know what you've told me," interrupted Gold. "Whether that's quite the same thing is another matter entirely."
King rolled his eyes in frustration. "Always so paranoid, Gold. I sometimes wonder how you've made it this far without stabbing your own reflection."
"I find it pays to be careful," said Gold icily.
"Given my explanations," continued King, "and the courtesy I've shown you in coming to you first, I was hoping you would see your way to giving me my due."
"I understand your concerns, to be sure," said Gold dryly. "Interestingly enough, I don't give a four-dollar fuck what you think is your due in this situation."
King's eyebrows drew down, and his smile slipped before popping back up once more, insincere as ever. "Come now, Gold. There's no need to be offensive. I really felt that we had grown past all that."
"Did you?" said Gold flatly. "And just how long have you been labouring under this misapprehension?"
At that moment the shop's bell jingled cheerfully, and he closed his eyes in despair. Really? Now?
"I thought you put the 'Closed' sign up," said King, frowning.
"Yes, well, the residents of Storybrooke take little notice, it seems," he said dryly.
"Hello?" The familiar voice made his heart skip a beat, and he strode into the shop, hearing King follow him. Oh no. No, no, no…
"May I help you?" he said, as coldly as he could manage, his expression uninterested. "I believe the sign says 'closed', but perhaps you're incapable of reading." Belle's mouth dropped open slightly, and out of the corner of his eye he noticed King looking her up and down admiringly. Belle's eyes flicked over Gold, then looked at the man by his side. He was handsome, with curly, grey-streaked blond hair and a beard, and was smiling at her with an affable expression on his face. But his eyes were like chips of flint. Belle shivered slightly, even as she felt herself smiling back in the accepted fashion. Gold drew all the darkness he possessed into himself and tried to throw it out in his voice and expressions.
"Was there something particular you wanted, dearie?" he said impatiently. Belle's eyebrows contracted and he sent up a prayer to whoever might be listening. Please, please let her understand. Belle looked at him, frowning, then noticed his tense posture, his cold eyes. She met his stare, and saw him shake his head a fraction. She took a deep breath.
"I was just browsing," she said cheerfully. "I'm sorry, I didn't notice the sign. I need to talk to you about some jewellery later, when you're free."
"But of course," Gold said dismissively, inwardly rejoicing. He beckoned to King, and stepped back into the office. King ran his eyes over Belle once more, still smiling at her. Gold felt his heart lift a little as he heard the doorbell ring on her way out.
"A pretty little piece," said King, with relish, as he stepped back into the room with Gold. "I must say, you seem to have more than your fair share of beautiful young women in this town, Gold."
"All of whom would run screaming if I showed the slightest interest in them," said Gold dryly, which was almost certainly true.
King chuckled. "I'm not surprised, if that's the way you talk to them. Such a waste. She'd fit in well in Boston. Perhaps I should try and give her my number."
Try that and I'll cut off anything you want to touch her with and make you eat it. Gold managed to keep his expression bland. "Was there anything else you wanted? Because if not, I think we're done here."
King gave him an appraising look. "No. If that's your final word on the matter…"
"It is."
"I see." The taller man looked displeased, but did not lose his small smile. "Then there's no more to be said. Good day to you, Mr Gold. I'll be in touch if I hear anything more. Perhaps we can do business after all."
Gold nodded briefly, hearing the bell ring once more as his visitor left. He let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. If what King had said was true, it appeared that he would need to make his own enquiries.
A/N: It was nice to write a couple of little Belle/Gold moments.
Coming up: Belle goes to see her parents, and makes an important decision…
