A/N: This is an un-smutty chapter, you may not be pleased to hear. Thanks to everyone reading and commenting on this story, it really means a lot.
Granny turned up at half past ten on the dot, and Belle took her up to see Moe, promising to make tea. She made some for herself and Ruby as well. Her nerves were on edge the whole time, worried that Moe would mention something about her staying over the previous night, and Granny contradicting it, but when she took the tea in they were talking about the neighbourhood gossip instead, and she smiled. Moe was somewhat insulated from the goings-on in Storybrooke, lying in bed all day, and he listened with a smile as Granny explained who was thought to be having an affair (Principal Mills and Mr Milliner, the art teacher, which made Belle giggle), the fact that the Council was talking about re-opening the library (Belle's ears pricked up at that), and the new recipe she was trying for blueberry pie (she had brought him a piece). The company seemed to perk Moe up, and he ate half the piece of pie, asking Belle to put the other half in the fridge for later.
Granny stayed for two hours, and when she finally bid Moe a cheerful goodbye and came to collect Ruby from Belle's room, she was smiling. Her expression changed as Belle led them downstairs to let them out, however. Granny beckoned her out onto the porch, and Belle followed, the smile falling from her face at Granny's serious look.
"I can't believe it's only been two weeks since I saw him," she said. "He's much worse than I thought."
Belle bit her lip. "I know," she admitted. "I'm trying not to think about it."
Granny enveloped her in a hug, and Belle relaxed against her, cushioned by her impressive bosom, surrounded by strong arms and the scent of lavender. It was comforting, reminding her of being hugged by her own grandmother. It also reminded her that her grandmother was gone, as well as her mother, and that her father would soon be following. She clung to Granny a little longer than she had planned to, and the old woman stroked her hair and whispered soothing nonsense.
"You can get through this, honey," she said softly. "Ruby and I will be here, don't you worry."
"I know." Belle's voice was muffled by Granny's thick grey cardigan. The hug had helped, and she felt a little better as she pulled back.
"I'll come over on Friday," said Granny decidedly. "See if he's up for a little poker, like we used to do."
Belle gave her a watery smile. "You'd take advantage of a dying man? That's terrible."
Granny snorted. "I always used to kick his ass," she sniffed. "We can play for matchsticks if it makes you feel better."
Belle laughed then. "He'd never stand for it, and you know it," she said, grinning, and Granny nodded firmly.
"It's a date, then," she said, and patted Belle's shoulder. "I'll see you soon, honey. You take care of each other, you hear me?"
Ruby hugged her too, smiling over her shoulder as she left, and Belle watched them go, feeling a little happier. Shutting the door, she went through to the kitchen and down to the basement to take the laundry from the drier. Basket in hands, she made her way up the stairs, and heard Moe calling for her as she passed the bedroom. She dumped the basket of clean clothes and walked in to see him, smiling.
"So, I hear poker night's back on," she said. "Don't gamble away the family silver, okay?"
He chuckled, but patted the edge of the bed.
"I need to talk to you about something, love," he said, and she sat down in the chair beside him, immediately anxious. He was looking at her steadily, and she suddenly felt like crying.
"We have to talk about what happens when I'm gone," he said gently, and she looked away, screwing up her eyes in pain.
"I don't want to think about that," she whispered, and he grasped her hand, his fingers clammy.
"You have to, angel," he said softly. "I don't think there's much time left. Weeks, maybe. A couple of months if I'm lucky. I need to know you'll be taken care of."
Tears were brimming in her eyes, and she wiped them away with the heel of her hand.
"What…" She cut off, squeezing her eyes shut and letting more tears fall before she could compose herself. "What happens to me?"
"I asked Granny if she'd agree to be your legal guardian until you're eighteen," he said. "She was happy to agree. She said you and Ruby had always acted like sisters, anyway." He looked at her a little uncertainly. "If - if you're okay with it, sweetheart."
Belle smiled tearfully. "Of course, but - both of us at Granny's? She may regret this."
"I think she's hoping you'll be a calming influence on Ruby," he chuckled, and Belle tried to be cheerful, for his sake.
"Will there be paperwork to sign?" she asked, and he nodded.
"She'll make an appointment for a lawyer to come talk to me," he said. "The court will need to agree, and I want to get this all sorted out before I get too ill to do it, Belle. You do understand?"
"Of course," she whispered, and she did understand, she did. But it felt as though he was slipping further away from her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
The conversation with her father had left her feeling depressed. Astrid had the rest of the day off, so she filled her day by catching up on homework and spending time with Moe. He could see that she was upset, and he tried to be cheerful, but he tired quickly, and she let him sleep at around eight o'clock, turning off the light and going downstairs to sit at the kitchen table and stare into space. It was restful, letting her mind shut down for a while, not focusing on anything while the kitchen clock ticked along, a soft, metronomic sound in the silent room. It was calming, almost meditative, but when she realised that she had been there for an hour she pushed herself up out of the chair and went to bed.
She felt no better the next day, and slept badly besides, so she walked to school in something of a daze, hugging her books to her chest as though they would somehow protect her. Ruby met her at the diner with a wide smile that faded as she saw Belle's face.
"Did something happen?" she asked anxiously, and Belle shook her head, somewhat tearful.
"I just - he's not getting better," she said wearily. "I have to accept that. He wanted to talk to me about what happens - after.
Ruby nodded soberly. "Granny told me," she said, and grasped Belle's shoulders. "I guess we really will be sisters."
Belle sent her a wobbly smile, and Ruby hugged her tight. It felt as though she was sending some of her strength, some of her optimism, into Belle, and it was gratefully received.
School went badly that day. Her mind was elsewhere, her attention divided. After failing to answer a question for the third time in her last class of the day, Ruby nudged her and raised a questioning eyebrow, and Belle sighed and looked at the clock. Ten more minutes.
"I apologise for boring you, Miss French," sniffed the biology teacher, Mrs Schumann. "I realise it's Monday, but I would have hoped that you, at least, would have done the required reading."
"Sorry," said Belle vaguely. "I'm not feeling so good."
Mrs Schumann looked at her over the top of her gold-rimmed glasses, the fine chain that secured them around her neck swinging and winking in the light.
"Yes, you do look a little pale," she said thoughtfully. "Perhaps you ought to go and get some air. No doubt Miss Lucas can explain the process of fertilisation in your stead."
Ruby almost groaned, but Belle pushed her chair back readily, picking up her bag and books and leaving the room. Once outside, she leant against the wall for a moment, taking a deep breath as she thought things over. Having made a decision, she set off down the corridor. After a few moments, she arrived at one of the other science classrooms, and peered in through the window. Gold was teaching a class on the periodic table, gesturing towards lithium and potassium. She smiled fondly as she remembered learning that; he had made them all crouch down behind their desks before tossing a lump of potassium into water, which had promptly reacted so violently that the water was thrown around the room. When the students had expressed enthusiasm over the reaction, his mouth had thinned, and he had said that they should have been taught it two years ago.
The class ended, and he released the students, the scraping of chairs loud as they gathered their things. Belle pulled back from the window as they began leaving the room, some sending her curious looks. She blushed a little, ducking her head behind her books and reassuring herself that they would assume she was just another student. When she entered the classroom he was wiping down the whiteboard, and for a moment she took pleasure in watching his rear wiggle in the suit pants he was wearing.
"Hey," she said, and he dropped the board wiper, scrabbling for it on the floor before turning to her and flicking his hair out of his face.
"Hey," he said quietly, and then frowned slightly. "Is everything alright?"
Belle's lip wobbled. Dammit, he could see. She bit her lip, and he stared at her for a moment.
"Belle, what is it?" he asked gently, and she twisted her mouth, looking up at the ceiling as she shrugged.
"Papa said he's not going to get better," she began, not looking at him. "I mean, I knew that anyway, but it kind of - hit me, I suppose. He wanted to talk about what happens - after." She hunched her shoulders slightly as she looked at the ground, as though it would protect her, and heard the tap of his cane as he approached her, watching the glossy black leather of his shoe enter her field of view.
"What have you both decided?" he asked, and she raised her head. She liked that question, the way he had assumed she had been consulted, that she would have some say in what became of her.
"Granny has agreed to be my legal guardian," she said, and his mouth quirked at the corner.
"No doubt she's hoping that you will keep Miss Lucas in line," he said, amused, and Belle broke into a reluctant giggle.
"Hasn't happened so far, but I guess I can try," she said, blinking away the tears that had formed in her eyes. His face softened, and he reached out, gently brushing her cheek with the backs of his fingers. She screwed up her eyes, swallowing hard to try and stop herself from crying.
"It's just - I know he's dying," she said, her voice trembling a little. "I know that. But I'd hoped we might at least have Christmas together. I don't know what I'll do without him."
She hung her head, biting the insides of her cheeks to stop herself from breaking down. She wished he'd hold her, but knew he wouldn't. He continued to touch her though, his thumb brushing over her lip, fingertips dancing across her cheek, and the contact was soothing.
"You wanted to ask me something," he said softly, and she tried to pull her attention away from her melancholy, from the darkness surrounding her and making her want to weep, concentrating on the warmth of his touch. She raised her head, and there was such tenderness in his eyes it made her heart clench.
"Can I see you?" she asked. "This week? Can I come over? I think I could really use the company for a couple of hours. Just to let me know I'm not going mad." She let out a laugh as she said it, but it felt forced, and she snapped her mouth shut to keep it inside, the sound too high, too brittle. He was studying her face, brown eyes running over the curves of her pale cheeks, the pink bloom of her lips.
"Why don't I make you dinner?" he asked quietly. "Thursday evening after your lessons. How about that?"
"I - okay." Belle was pleased. "Do I bring anything?"
He shook his head, his hair catching the light as it swung.
"Just yourself. I'll provide the rest." His index finger slid gently beneath her jawline and along, pausing briefly to press against her lips before he dropped his hand and took a step back. She sighed.
"I wish you could touch me in public," she said. "I wish I could kiss you in the middle of Storybrooke and no one would give a crap about it."
He smiled a little sadly. "I would like that."
She stepped forwards, but he backed away from her, eyeing the door, and she sighed again. He was right, of course, but that didn't make it any easier. She shook back her hair and tried to be a little more cheerful.
"Thursday, then," she said decidedly, and he sent her a brief smile, nodding.
"Gold, do you..?" The door opening made him step back, although he was no longer touching her, and Belle jumped as Mr Milliner barged into the room, flamboyant as ever in a purple shirt, brocade waistcoat and leather pants. He arched a curious eyebrow at her, and Belle ducked her head behind her books again.
"Thank you, Mr Gold," she muttered, and scurried towards the door.
"I'll have those books for you on Thursday, Miss French," he called after her, and Belle smiled briefly over her shoulder as she left.
Jefferson watched her go, frowning slightly.
"I thought you weren't teaching her anymore," he said, and Gold shrugged.
"She wanted to borrow some textbooks. I see no reason to refuse her just because she's no longer in my class."
"Hmm." Jefferson was still watching the door, but he glanced over his shoulder at Gold. "Does she know it was you? Organising the tutor?"
"She does," sighed Gold, turning back to the whiteboard to clear off the remainder of the lesson he had just taught. "She was outraged at first, of course."
Jefferson's low whistle set his teeth on edge.
"Careful!" warned Jefferson, a little tauntingly. "She starts seeing you as her knight in shining armour, things could get awkward."
"I'm hardly a white knight, dearie," said Gold, his tone repressive, and Jefferson chuckled.
"Maybe not, but I've seen a lot of teenage infatuations in my time, and you could be looking at one right there." He gestured towards the door.
"Was there something you wanted?" asked Gold waspishly. "I have papers to grade."
"How about a drink?" suggested Jefferson, and Gold curled his lip, giving the whiteboard a final swipe and setting the wiper aside.
"I think not."
"Maybe you didn't hear me, Gold," said Jefferson, more loudly. "You're coming for a drink with me. You need it."
Gold waited, and Jefferson shrugged.
"Also, I need to talk to you about something," he admitted, and Gold smirked.
"You're buying," he said loftily, and picked up his coat.
Half an hour later they were seated in a darkened corner of the Rabbit Hole, Gold with a permanent scowl on his face, trying to keep his elbows off the sticky table that had been given a desultory flick with a cloth by the lumbering barman. Jefferson put a glass of whisky in front of him, and set down his own rum and Coke.
"Do you want to tell me what I'm doing in this rat-infested fire hazard?" asked Gold dryly, and Jefferson rolled his eyes.
"Come on! I know you've been in worse places before."
"I've worked in worse places before," remarked Gold, looking around. "That was thirty years ago, and I would never have patronised them even then."
"Yeah, well, Storybrooke doesn't exactly have much in the way of nightlife," said Jefferson, taking a drink. Gold curled his lip at the barman, who was watching them while wiping a glass with a cloth and making it steadily dirtier. Gold picked up his whisky glass and eyed it suspiciously before taking a sip and wrinkling his nose.
"Agreed," he said dryly, and raised an eyebrow. "So?"
Jefferson sighed. "Look, I'll level with you. Principal Mills wanted me to look into something."
Gold smirked, setting his glass back down. "You know, if you've seen one another naked, I believe first name terms are acceptable."
Jefferson scowled at him. "Fine! Regina mentioned that she'd heard rumours of what's been going on in this place at weekends. You know the stories about Nottingham, right?"
Gold frowned. "I'd heard whispers. Why doesn't she just report it to the police?"
Jefferson snorted, sitting back. "Because Nottingham's the DA's nephew, of course! You see Spencer bending over backwards to indict one of his family? Besides, she doesn't want a scandal at the school if it's all piss and wind. There's no actual evidence yet, you know. None of the girls has complained."
"I can't imagine why, the man's a menace," said Gold dismissively, and sipped at his whisky. It tasted a little better second time around, but was still rough.
"He is," conceded Jefferson. "But he's charming and good-looking, and I guess they're naive enough to fall for whatever he tells them. Young girls like that - they can have idealised views on what men can be."
Gold looked down at the table top, fingers tightening around the glass as he moved it in a slow circle, spreading the ring of moisture that had formed at its base.
"No doubt," he said quietly. "Although I fail to see my part in all this."
"You're my alibi, doofus!" said Jefferson impatiently. "I'm gonna keep an eye out for creepy weirdness after school!"
Gold sat back in his chair, mouth flattening in a sceptical line.
"We're sitting in a dive bar on a Monday evening because you think that Nottingham and his sleazy sidekick will be in here checking out the students?" he said dryly. "Who are conspicuous by their absence, I might add." He pointed at Jefferson as he picked up his glass. "And may I also say that you, my friend, stick out like a sore thumb. Perhaps a newspaper with some eyeholes cut out would really make you fade into the background."
Jefferson sat back with a sigh, looking defeated.
"You're such an ass!" he grumbled. "Alright, the thing about Regina giving me a mission is true, but tonight I admit I just wanted to get you to come for a drink. You spend too much time cooped up in that house of yours, Gold."
"What I do with my time is my business." Gold took another swallow of whisky, wincing as it burned his throat.
"Fine!" grumbled Jefferson. "But I really am going to be here on Friday evenings. You could always join me."
Gold frowned at him, drumming his fingers rhythmically on the glass.
"Is this some misguided attempt to get me to socialise?" he said eventually.
"If you want to give it a label, fine," sighed Jefferson. "Is spending an evening in my riveting company really so terrible?"
"I'll let you know on Saturday morning," said Gold dryly, and Jefferson winked.
"Don't think I'm not tempted, but I doubt you'd relish the idea of sleeping with Regina by proxy," he smirked, and Gold pointed at him with a long finger.
"The moment you start making inappropriate comments like that, I'm leaving," he said sternly, and Jefferson rolled his eyes.
"Spoil all my fun, why don't you?" he grumbled. "So - Friday night?"
Gold watched him steadily, then pulled a defeated face.
"Very well," he sighed.
Belle bit into her toasted bagel and peanut butter, chewing slowly as she browsed, one fingertip flicking across the pad of her laptop to move down the page. She was sitting in the diner, waiting for Ruby to finish putting on her make-up. Insomnia had claimed her once more the previous night, and at five-thirty she had given up sleep as a bad job and decided to get up. As a consequence, she was at the diner half an hour earlier than usual, and Granny had ushered her to a seat in the corner and given her breakfast, yelling upstairs for Ruby to get out of the shower. Belle had decided to put her spare time to good use, and was - researching. She set down the bagel, licking butter from her thumb as an image flashed up on screen. Belle blushed, looking around hurriedly. At that hour the diner wasn't too busy, and the other customers had their heads in the breakfast or the Storybrooke Mirror. She turned back to the computer, turning her head on one side to better understand what the couple on the screen was doing. Following her night at the cabin, she had been a little paranoid that her attempts at oral sex hadn't been as successful as she might have liked, despite Gold's protestations to the contrary, so she had resorted to what she knew best, which was how to find things out.
Her initial explorations online had almost scarred her for life, but once she had discounted all the porn sites (the physical attributes of the men on them scared her witless, but she was aware that they weren't hired for their ability to act) she managed to find a very informative sex education site that was sensibly written and contained step-by-step guides for various erotic acts. She hadn't been brave enough to look at too many, but she was nonetheless intrigued by what she had read so far. Some had video clips to go with them, like the oral sex one she was currently engrossed in.
"Ready when you - holy crap what the hell are you watching!" Ruby's squeal made Belle jump and slam the laptop shut, blushing fiercely as she turned to face her friend. Ruby's eyes were perfectly round in her face, her mouth wide. Belle opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, aware that the diners were watching them curiously, and tried to think of a clever response.
"N - nothing!" she stammered. Oh, great answer, Belle! You could be a spy, seriously.
Ruby was continuing to stare at her, and Belle shoved her laptop in her bag, her face still red.
"Are you coming or not?" she muttered, and snatched up what was left of her bagel. Ruby followed her out of the diner, apparently over her shock enough to have started laughing uncontrollably.
"Oh my God!" she giggled, catching Belle up and turning to walk backwards, eyes sparkling with mirth. "Is this for that guy you're seeing? Trust me, honey, you put your lips around it, he'll be ready to fall down and worship you!"
"Shut up!" hissed Belle, still mortified. "I want to do it right."
Ruby shook her head, a wide smile still plastered across her face. "Well, if there was an exam in sex, my guess is you'd ace it like everything else," she said soothingly. "Don't worry so much. Any guy that gets to spend time with you that way ought to think himself lucky."
Belle hid behind her armful of books, but sent Ruby a small grin. With any luck, her research would keep Gold interested in what she had to offer.
Unfortunately, the opportunities for further research did not materialise. Her father had another bad night, and Belle had to call Dr Whale early the next morning to get him to come over. He frowned as he examined Moe, and upped the dosage of his medication. Moe managed to slip into a deep sleep, and Belle was happy to let him rest, as tired as she herself was. Her eyes were grainy with lack of sleep when she answered the door to Carella at nine, and the woman looked her up and down critically.
"Are you sure you're up for this, darling?" she asked, her voice having an edge of concern to it that Belle hadn't heard before. "We can always reschedule, you know."
"If we do that we'll be rescheduling for the rest of the year," sighed Belle, rubbing her eyes. "I'm getting used to functioning on about three hours' sleep, to be honest. Let me put on some coffee."
She shuffled through to the kitchen to put on the kettle, and Carella followed, setting her bag of books down on the table.
"You were looking a lot happier last week," she said. "Bad time with the boyfriend this weekend?"
Belle dropped the spoon, scattering ground coffee everywhere as she blushed.
"What makes you think I have a boyfriend?" she asked defensively, and Carella chuckled.
"Your face," she said smugly, and Belle busied herself with cleaning up the coffee, still blushing.
"I take it things didn't go well, then?" prodded Carella slyly.
"No!" protested Belle, spinning on her toes to face her. "It was wonderful! I had an amazing weekend!" Clamping her mouth shut, but secretly delighted to be able to say something about what she was feeling, she turned back to the coffee, pouring boiling water into the pot.
"Oh, don't worry, I can keep your secrets," said Carella, waving a careless hand. "I remember what it was like to be your age, darling. Everything seems so - real."
Belle turned slowly, coffee pot in hand.
"Real?" she echoed. "What do you mean?"
Carella sniffed, pulling out a chair to sit down. "Hormones going haywire and it seeming as though you could never, ever feel this strongly about anything. The way no one else understands how you could feel so much. The way it hurts so good, low down in your belly." She pressed a hand against her stomach, grinning.
"Of course, it's been a while for me, but I remember it well. Don't worry, darling. One day you'll look back and get exasperated with yourself, trust me."
Belle frowned, looking at her hands. "I don't think it's just hormones," she said quietly, and Carella looked surprised.
"Did I say it was?" she said lightly. "Just don't trust the little buggers, that's all. Sometimes hormones are prone to gross exaggeration. A bit like men with penis size."
Belle snorted, amused and a little scandalised, and Carella waved a hand at the books.
"Come along, I'm not getting paid to talk about your love life, more's the pity," she said regretfully. "More algebra today, I think, darling."
Gold was relaxing in his lounge with the newspaper, a glass of whisky in hand, when the knock on the door came that evening.
"My, my, this is starting to be a regular occurrence," he said mildly, holding open the door, and Carella sniffed, pushing past him.
"Ursula's at a conference," she said dolefully. "I hate being home alone."
"Really?" Gold shut the door after her. "I was rather enjoying it until you showed up."
She stuck out her tongue at him, and he chuckled and took her coat.
"Drink?"
"Ridiculous question!" she huffed, and his grin widened as he went through to the kitchen to get her a glass with ice and a slice of lemon.
"Help yourself," he offered, and she followed him through to the lounge, going to the drinks cabinet as he lowered himself into the leather armchair again.
"Can I tempt you, darling?" she said, and he drained his glass.
"Same again," he nodded, and she smirked. He raised an eyebrow, "How was your day?"
"Reasonable," she nodded. "I didn't have a hangover. Always a plus."
Gold sighed, rubbing his temple. "I trust you don't teach while under the influence," he said wearily.
"Of course not!" she said, offended. "I haven't been drunk in ages, I'll have you know! I think our engagement party was the last time I got absolutely steaming."
He grunted, and she turned away again.
"Do you know, I rather think the sweet little Miss French is in love," she said airily, poking around in his drinks cabinet. Gold's jaw tightened.
"Really?" he said lightly. "She is that age, I suppose."
"Hmm." She picked out a bottle of whisky, and held it up with a questioning expression. At his nod, she set it on the side table and reached for the gin. "I thought she had a bit of a crush on you, but I daresay she's moved on. No doubt to some acne-covered teenager with roving hands who can't keep it in his pants for five minutes." She straightened up, retrieving the bottle of gin, and grinned at him.
Gold looked at the ceiling with a pained expression.
"I can't see why the tangled love lives of my former students should be of interest to me," he said in a bored voice. "I trust she's working hard? I don't want to throw good money after bad."
She snorted. "When have you ever thrown bad money anywhere?" she said dismissively. "She's doing very well. A little unfocused today, but that's to be expected, I suppose. She's bound to have good and bad days, and she's always prepared."
She poured him a measure of whisky, handing it to him before adding a generous amount of gin to her glass and looking around for the tonic. Gold took a sip, allowing the liquid to spread across his tongue, its smooth flavour making him smile contentedly.
"Of course, I remember being that age," Carella went on conversationally. "I suppose I wasn't that much older than her when I got mixed up with Mr Firkins of St Leonard's Sixth Form College." She frowned as she topped up her glass with tonic water. "Maybe a year or two, I guess."
"That's the second time you've mentioned his name in full like that," remarked Gold. "Might I enquire as to the reason? I presume you were rather closer than your use of his surname and school would suggest."
Carella shrugged. "Defence mechanism," she said briefly, and sipped at her gin. "Gives me a little distance, you know."
"What happened?" asked Gold curiously. "What happened to Mr Firkins of St Leonard's Sixth Form College?"
Carella gave him a wry smile as she sat down opposite him, crossing long legs and flicking back her hair.
"Oh, he decided he'd much rather stay married," she said dryly. "So he ended it. He ended it in such a way that I never wanted to see him again."
Gold took a drink, his brow contracting. "What do you mean?"
She sighed, rolling her glass between long, thin fingers, her red-lacquered nails clicking faintly against the crystal.
"He told me, in no uncertain terms, what I needed to hear," she said, in businesslike tones, as though the memory was painful, and easier to deal with if she retained an air of detachment.
"He reinforced every insecurity, every negative thought I had ever had about myself, and our relationship," she added. "Stripped my soul bare and hung me out to dry."
Gold winced. "Fuck," he whispered, and she smiled, although it didn't reach her eyes.
"He broke my heart," she said, her voice deceptively light. "But looking back, I can see why he did it. He was trying to protect me, to let me live my life. He was never going to leave his wife and kids for me, an infatuated teenager. He couldn't give me himself, so he gave me back my life."
Gold watched her steadily over the rim of his glass. "You almost sound grateful," he said disbelievingly, and she sniffed, gulping gin and smacking her lips.
"I grew up," she said. "First love, first loss. I got over it. And thanks to him I knew what I wanted from life. From love. I have it with Ursula. So yes, I'm grateful for that, although at the time I thought I was going to die."
"Right," he said vaguely, and she lowered her head, giving him a stern look.
"Don't misunderstand me, Rum," she said. "He may have done the right thing in the end, but at heart he was a selfish, manipulative fuckweasel who wanted to get into my pants and damn the consequences."
Gold looked down at his whisky, his ears ringing strangely, her words echoing around his head.
"It could have been so much worse, I suppose," she went on dismissively. "He could have dangled me on a string for years. I was so besotted I'd have let him." She snorted. "Bloody idiot!"
He looked up then, a tiny, twisted smile on his face. "I can't imagine anyone getting the best of you," he said, and she looked pleased, taking a swig of her drink.
"I have him to thank for that, too," she said, shrugging. "After I'd picked myself up I decided to make a serious go of my life. It was my education, then work, and my own independence."
"Funded by your rich late husband," he said slyly, and she stuck out her tongue.
"Don't be judgemental, Rum, it doesn't suit you," she sniffed. "You know as well as I that he got as much pleasure out of me as I got out of spending his money."
He chuckled. "I think the old man died happy, certainly," he admitted. "Which is more than some of us can hope for."
Carella groaned, rolling her eyes. "Spare me your self-pity," she said scathingly. "You're alone because you choose to be. You could be happy if you just let yourself, you know."
"I am happy," he countered, and she snorted. "Well, content, at least," he amended, and drained his glass, raising it and wiggling it back and forth in his hand with a raised eyebrow.
"Let me." She stood up, taking the glass, and went to fix them both another drink. She poured him another large measure, and Gold nodded appreciatively as she handed it to him and sat back down. He took a drink, savouring the flavour, the fire. Rolling the glass between his fingers, he flicked his eyes up to meet hers.
"How long did it take?" he asked. "To get over it, I mean? When we met, I certainly don't remember you being heartbroken."
Carella sighed, and rested her glass on her knee, ice cubes clinking against the sides.
"Oh, I'd gotten over it by then," she said dismissively. "Truth is, I don't recall when it was. I threw myself into study, went out with my friends, and one day I looked up and realised I hadn't cried over the bastard in weeks." She shrugged, taking another mouthful of gin. "Time heals all wounds, as they say."
"Right," he said, and leaned back in his chair. She swilled the gin around her mouth, red lips twisting before she swallowed and sat back. A strand of white-blonde hair stuck to the side of her mouth, and she puffed it away with a breath. There was silence for a moment as she eyed him shrewdly.
"You're acting very strangely," she said frankly. "I don't believe you've taken this much interest in my love life since you categorically refused to let me bang Daddy's secretary in your office."
"Yes, because of course that was a perfectly reasonable request of yours," he said sarcastically, but his eyes twinkled at her, and she smirked.
"I really do wish you'd find someone, Rum," she said. "I'm not just saying it to annoy you, you know. It would be good for you."
"You are aware that there are people in this world that feel no desire for any sort of physical relations, I'm sure," he said, taking a drink.
"Indeed," she nodded, and leaned forwards, elbows on knees. "But that's not you. You have a lot of love to give."
He snorted derisively, and she shrugged, pale shoulder rising and falling.
"I didn't say you're not an utter bastard who needs a boot in the bollocks every now and then, but you still need someone in your life."
"I'll take the boot, thanks," he said pleasantly, and she grinned at him.
"Always happy to oblige, darling, you know that."
"I'm beginning to think a kick in the knackers might be less painful than this conversation," he remarked, and she groaned theatrically.
"Oh, stop it! You know I'm right, or you wouldn't be pretending to take offence." She crossed her legs again, high heel bouncing up and down as she jabbed a finger at him. "You need someone to love, and to love you back, or you'll grow even more bitter and twisted."
"So, perhaps some sort of pet, then," he said lightly.
"I give up," she sighed, flopping backwards.
"Thank heaven for small mercies."
Carella sat forward suddenly. "Any more thoughts on who you're bringing to my wedding?" she demanded.
"No," said Gold dryly. "And if you even consider 'inviting someone' for me, I will never speak to you again."
She muttered under her breath, but nodded reluctantly.
"Fine, sit in the corner like the spectre at the feast," she said, in a bored voice. "But I expect you to dance with me, at least."
He grinned then. "Deal."
A/N: I do love writing Carella vs Gold :)
Next time: Gold makes Belle dinner, which ends somewhat awkwardly.