AN: Thanks for the reviews!

Chapter 10: Victories

Mr. Gold had managed to talk Gus downstairs. After a long chat, they were seated in his living room, both sipping their beer. "So we have an arrangement then?"

"It's a deal!" Gus laughed and raised his beer can.

"Good, very good. It's been nice doing business with you." Mr. Gold rose and grabbed his cane, ready to leave the premises.

"You too! You too, Mr. Gold." Gus was staring lovingly at the heap of cash lying on his table: a heap that had continued to grow magically during the length of their conversation.

Remembering the old proverb of flies, honey, and vinegar, Mr. Gold had altered his strategy. Gus' skills might become handy in the future and money could buy almost anything.

"Why don't we continue our talk in your living room?" Mr. Gold had said as his neck started to ache from looking up at the window.

Gus had laughed and answered that midgets weren't welcome. Mr. Gold had replied that he needed to sit, because of his leg, and that he was one particular rich midget who could offer him a deal. Gus had narrowed his eyes again in suspicion, but had come running down the stairs, almost tripping in hurry when Mr. Gold had taken his wallet out of his pocket and started pulling nice crispy notes from it.

"So you'll leave Belle alone from now on…" Mr. Gold had confirmed the details of their deal.

"If I must… It's a pity though, she's one hell of a woman."

"I couldn't agree more which is why I am currently dating her." Mr. Gold hadn't mind pretending, somewhat prematurely, to be Belle's new lover.

"You… you are dating her?" Gus did not like that!

"Is that a problem? We just made a deal, didn't we…? I could call my buddies and enforce it, but I suppose you'll prefer the money…."

Gaston had eyed the money and whistled through his teeth—a tough decision—but then he answered resentfully: "Suppose so.. I guess I can't blame her from moving up in the world…"

"And so will you! You are on my payroll now, and I look well after my friends…" He had given Gus a pat on his back. "You wouldn't have anything to drink now, would you?

Life was good, Mr. Gold thought as he walked back to his car: with Gus on his payroll, Belle almost in his pocket—or so he hoped anyway—it was Mr. Gold's turn to whistle a song… and so he did.

"Belle, Belle, where are you?" After a lengthy search through the mansion on this sunny Saturday afternoon, he finally located Belle in the wine cellar.

"This hasn't been cleaned in ages…" He heard her mumble when he came in. "Oh, Mr. Gold, I didn't see you there…"

"You're right, of course, the wine cellar usually isn't any maid's priority. More's the pity because it is a room I frequent…" He smiled his crooked smile and Belle returned the gesture.

"I have some news for you… I've talked to Gus and he promised to leave you alone!" Mr. Gold said with enthusiasm, but Belle couldn't believe it quite so easily.

"Just like that?!"

"Just like that..." He stayed silent for a few seconds under her scrutinizing gaze. "Well, I might have given him some incentive…and I might have made a few minor..," he held his fingers close together yet slightly apart, "very minor threats." He smiled again, mischievous and boyish.

Belle laughed derisively. "Money, a new car? Something like that, right?" She sighed. "So that's what I am worth to him, ha?"

"Belle, Belle, I understand it hurts and makes you angry… But you are free of him now! That's great, right?"

"Yes, yes, of course. It's just… I was married to him. I got a divorce but he still wouldn't let me be… and now I am given up for money? I bet it wasn't even much…"

"One man's boat is another man's yacht. Or is it the other way round? I can't remember…," he chuckled. "It was plenty for him, but you are worth far more, definitely!"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yes, indeed."

"I am priceless." Belle said, smiling slightly, though still a little sad.

"You are. You really are…" Mr. Gold stepped a little closer, wanting to embrace her.

"Mr. Gold?"

"Yes?"

"I'm covered in cobwebs…" she seemed flustered. He looked at her and stepped back.

"So you are, I see… Hmm, tell you what? Let's celebrate! Will you let me take you out to dinner tonight? You could leave early and change…"

She hesitated. He held his breath. Her answer was timid and defiantly at the same time. "Yes, I think I will, Mr. Gold. Saves me from clearing the dishes…."

Brant had been silent for several group sessions but not this time. Somehow the therapist, Archie, had found his buttons and pushed them. Like a broken vending machine, the words had rolled out of his mouth. His need to impress, his dad, his stepdad, his coach, his girlfriend, his team members—the list went on and on—had caused severe pressure and anxiety. A little help was appreciated and consequently provided by his coach. His parents liked to drink and he didn't really see the difference anyway…

His dad's DUI and his mother's scorn over that, had led him to believe that perfection was everything. Finding her in cahoots with Kenny had been quite the eye-opener. His mother, however, did not give in and pursued her son's affections relentlessly. His father's long hours—which had said disinterest to a teenage Brant—and his mother's tell-tales about his father had slowly created a rift between him and his father. One particular story had hardened his heart and his memories of that day had returned after his mom's nudging and prodding…

However, he would not discuss that fatal day. Archie had to admit that they had hit a stone wall on that subject, for the time being. He complimented Brant with his willingness to share but did add that real recovery might include revealing that particular bit as well. Brant nodded, but wasn't going to give in. Perhaps he could talk to Emma about it….