Summary: Let'sTwistAnotherFairyTale gave me this prompt:"I think an interesting one in your AU would be if Belle had gotten into a car accident (not seriously hurt of course) but I would love to read how Gold reacts to that and seeing Belle in the hospital." I thought it would be interesting too, and I'd already had an idea along similar lines. Tis of course Rumbelle centred, but a portion is devoted to Gold & Jefferson friendship, and I've some Cake'verse Jefferson back-story in there too.
Rocky Road
Gold groaned as his stomach gave yet another tremendous lurch and he gripped the sink with white knuckles. There couldn't be much more of his lunch left to come back, but the cold wave of nausea refused to leave him. He rested his clammy forehead against the mirror over the sink with a whimper, vaguely aware of someone knocking on the gents' bathroom door.
It had been an ordinary day until he'd got the phone call. As soon as the word 'hospital' had crossed Kathryn's lips, he'd felt his innards begin to churn, and once he'd talked to the nurse, his worst fears had just about come true.
She's all right, he told himself firmly. They're just keeping her in for observation.
"Gold, if you don't say something right now, I'm going to do something drastic." Gold realised that Jefferson had been talking to him through the door and received no reply but the sound of violent regurgitation. He heard the lock scrape open, forced with the flat of a scissor blade – Jefferson was nothing if not prepared.
Out of the corner of his eye, Gold saw the younger man enter the cramped bathroom and put a glass of water down between the taps, all without a word.
"Mr Gold?"
The new voice was nervous and tentative, and it belonged to Dawn.
"It's all right, Dawn," Jefferson said. "I've got this one. Trust me," he continued as he pushed the door to. "It's a man thing."
Gold sighed and closed his eyes, fighting back the urge to retch again. It wasn't at all surprising that Jefferson should be the one mothering him. Of all the people who currently worked out of Guildhall, only three had any sort of experience of being parents – and two of them were in this very bathroom.
"What's up?" the younger man asked quietly. "I'm assuming this has to do with the phone call you just received. I was in reception when Kathryn put it through."
Gold nodded.
"Belle's in the hospital," he croaked. "She's had an accident."
Jefferson let out a long breath and took Gold's shoulder in a firm but friendly and slightly awkward grip. Neither was the most tactile of men, so the gesture was a mark of how dire the circumstances were.
"Do you want a lift over there?" he asked, adding, "that wasn't a question," in a warning tone. "You're shaking. If you try to drive you'll have a wreck yourself."
Gold nodded his acquiescence; it would probably be infinitely safer if someone else was behind the wheel. He straightened and looked in the mirror – Jesus, he looked old today. The hospital staff would probably think he was Belle's father, rather than her boyfriend, dubiously as the title could be applied to someone fast approaching fifty.
He shuddered again at the thought of Belle in the hospital and the circumstances that had brought her there.
She'll be fine, he repeated. They're just keeping her in for observation.
The mantra wasn't working – it never would, the fear was too strong. He'd lost Bae to the roads already, and since then he'd been terrified of losing someone else to them. He couldn't lose Belle as well.
"Drink," Jefferson said, tapping the glass. "Or you'll rot your teeth."
Gold obeyed mutely. On any other occasion, he would have laughed and made some kind of comment about Jefferson becoming the office mother hen. He'd done it before often enough. But right now, humour was beyond him. The only thing permeating his awareness was that Belle had had a car accident. Gold was not a religious man, but in that moment he winged up a prayer.
Dear God, don't let me lose her.
X
"So what exactly happened?" Jefferson asked a few minutes later once they were in his car heading towards the hospital. "How badly is she hurt?"
"Just cuts and bruises." Gold sighed, staring out of the windscreen. "Apparently she hit her head quite hard though, so they're keeping her in, in case she's got delayed concussion."
Jefferson nodded, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. He didn't judge Gold's reaction to the news as disproportionate, and Gold was grateful for his quiet companionship. He and his younger colleague had more in common than perhaps met the eye, although the kinship the two men shared was a sad one in many ways. Both had brought up children alone, and both had lost loved ones in sudden tragedies – Jefferson's wife had died of meningitis when their daughter was just two, and he had put his legal training on hold for five years to take care of Grace. Each had recognised a fellow soul in the other, and whilst they mostly kept themselves to themselves, it was reassuring to know that there was someone else nearby who understood more than other colleagues perhaps would. They continued to drive in silence for a while before Jefferson spoke again.
"Did they tell you what happened?" he asked.
Gold shook his head.
"Only that she'd had a car accident. I'm hoping Belle can tell me when I get there," he said. He didn't need to elaborate, they both knew what he was inferring by the remark. If Belle could tell him it meant she was conscious and compos mentis, and she was all right. Gold knew that the ice in the pit of his stomach wouldn't dissipate until he had seen Belle and spoken to her himself, no matter how many reassurances he might receive from anyone else. Thankfully, Jefferson understood this, and didn't try any more words of well-meant but ultimately useless comfort.
The journey to the hospital seemed to take an age, although it couldn't have been any longer than usual. Gold stared up at the foreboding building with its front façade of red brick and the sprawling glass and concrete extension behind the original Victorian part before hurrying into the accident and emergency entrance. The last time he'd been here had been a routine orthopaedic appointment only a week ago, and it wasn't looking any more welcoming now than it had done then. He hated hospitals, had done for years, and going into one never got any easier.
Especially not now, when Belle was the patient rather than himself.
Jefferson took a seat in the emergency department waiting room and calmly began reading the free pamphlets whilst Gold went up to the reception desk.
"I'm looking for Belle French," he said. "She was brought in after a car accident; I got a phone call…"
The nurse looked at her notes.
"Ah, you must be Mr Gold. I was the one who called you. I'll take you through to her now if you'd like to follow me. We're just waiting for the paperwork to be signed before we take Miss French upstairs to the ward. There's nothing wrong, per se, but delayed concussion can occur so often with head injuries and it's better to be safe than sorry."
The nurse drew back the curtain around one cubicle at the far end of the emergency ward, and Gold's prayers were answered. Belle was sitting cross-legged on the bed, most definitely alive and conscious, if a little battered. She was holding an icepack against the side of her head, and there were four steri-strips over a small cut on her hairline – it had evidently bled heavily onto her collar, which was looking like something from a horror film. But shirt collars were unimportant to Gold in the grander scheme of things at that moment in time.
"Belle…" he breathed.
She looked up at him, put down the icepack and held out her arms without a word.
"I'm all right, darling," she whispered as he practically crushed her against him, mindful of her head. "I'm all right. Thumping headache, but I'm all right."
Gold could only hold her, vaguely aware of the nurse leaving them in private. Belle stroked his back, petting him almost.
"I can't even begin to imagine how worried you've been. I would have phoned you myself but I was a bit busy being poked and prodded and x-rayed so they wouldn't let me."
"Idiots," Gold growled. Finally he released her so that he could look into her face. "I'm quite prepared to sue the entire lot of them for you if you want," he offered, although the threat didn't sound anywhere near as convincing as it normally could have done.
Belle rolled her eyes.
"They're only doing their jobs, Gold," she said. "Being poked and prodded and x-rayed is all part of being in hospital. If you really want to make yourself useful, you can go home and get me some pyjamas, since they're determined to keep me in." She looked up at him. "Oh, come here."
Belle patted the bed beside her and Gold sank down onto it gratefully. She put her arms around him again, and Gold couldn't quite believe it – she was the bruised and battered one who'd just had a traumatic experience, and yet she was the one offering comfort.
"What happened?" he asked presently.
"There was oil on the road," Belle said. "I skidded and ended up on the verge. The car should be fine, it's just a bit dented."
"I'm not worried about the car." It was Gold's turn to roll his eyes. "Honestly."
"I know. But I'm all right."
Gold nodded, finally trusting himself to believe it. Belle was all right, and even if she did have delayed concussion, she was in the best place.
"So who do I have to thank for getting you here in one piece and stopping you from dismembering the nurses?" Belle asked. It was a mark of how well she knew him that she recognised he wouldn't have been able to drive himself.
"I haven't threatened to dismember anyone," Gold protested.
"Yet," Belle added.
"Well, you never know." He paused. "It was Jefferson."
"I thought it might be." Belle rested her chin on his shoulder. "Buy him a bottle of wine from me on the way home."
Gold smiled weakly.
"I love you," he said after a few moments silence.
Belle squeezed him tighter and he reached round to put an arm around her. "I love you too."
There were unspoken words hiding behind the simple phrase. I love you and I could have lost you, Gold thought, but he pushed it aside for the moment. There was no point in dwelling on what terrible things might have been. Belle was here, holding him close, and she loved him, but more importantly, she was going to be all right. That was all that mattered, and for that, Gold was primordially grateful.
