Belle curled into the cushions of her reading chair, a fleece blanket drawn over her shoulders. It was late and she couldn't sleep, a lucky thing she wasn't working in the morning. She couldn't concentrate on her reading, the stack of novels on the floor was proof enough of her restless mind. For once she wasn't kept awake with worry over money; rather, she was preoccupied with Mr. Gold.
Belle fingered one of the topaz at her ears and removed the earring to look at it.
The man had gifted her a beautiful pair of earrings in gratitude for her help in researching the treasures that had passed through his shop over the past several months. She had heard the rumors and ignored them all, finding an unexpected friend in the town monster. Belle did not lie to herself; she was happy with Mr. Gold as her friend but she would like to explore more with him, and why not? They shared so many interests, and they got along so well. Though he was unlike any of the other men in her past, Belle had found herself deeply attracted to him, even giving in to lustful fantasies while in the bath or late at night in bed.
The man was a frequent visitor to her daydreams and active thoughts, but now, Belle didn't know what to think, because she hadn't met with Mr. Gold or even heard from him in weeks. No one had seen Mr. Gold since late December, nearly a month ago. The days left in January were dwindling, and no one seemed to care that Mr. Gold had vanished.
Maybe vanished isn't the right word, Belle thought, her eyes still on the topaz earring she held. He closed his shop, he locked up his house, he took his wallet, cell phone and car. He planned this.
Yes, he'd planned to go away somewhere and he hadn't breathed a word of his intentions to her.
Belle had been as casual as she could manage when she'd questioned the sheriff at Granny's after seeing the sign on the pawn shop door, a notice of the shop undergoing a temporary closing. "I was going to see about selling an old bracelet of my mother's to Mr. Gold but there's a sign on the door saying he's closed up shop. Do you know when he'll be back?" She'd asked, inwardly clamoring for anything Graham might know.
Sheriff Graham hadn't been much help, shrugging as he'd tucked into a lunch of fried chicken and mashed potatoes. "Gold does this every couple years or so, he disappears in the winter for weeks at a time to do some business out of state. No big deal."
No big deal.
That was the attitude of everyone Belle had mentioned Mr. Gold's disappearance to, hoping someone would have more details to share with her - what kind of business he was doing, who he was dealing with, how long he would stay away. She spun the same story of needing to sell a bracelet to explain her interest in his whereabouts, but she could not explain away the urgency of her questions.
But as no one cared much for the man, so no one missed him or knew for sure where he'd gone. Belle couldn't stop her mind spinning off a hundred different explanations, nearly all of them ending with Mr. Gold dead in a ditch somewhere because he was a rich, vulnerable man and the world could be cruel, even within the soft confines of Storybrooke.
Belle knew she needed to stop this.
Mr. Gold had probably decided to take a vacation to Boston or New York after his business. For a moment she pictured the man strolling through a lavish hotel suite in a fluffy robe, but then why wouldn't he have mentioned he was planning the trip? He'd agreed that they were friends, so why would he do this, just disappear without a word? It didn't make any sense to Belle, and she was truly hurt by his silence.
A lone car passed by on the street below, and she realized it was well past midnight. I need to go to sleep - I can't keep worrying after him, I'll drive myself crazy. Belle smiled to herself, even rolling her eyes as she moved toward her bedroom. It's a short drive from here to insanity!
Belle took off the other earring, setting the pair on her nightstand before settling back under the covers of her bed. She was tired of worrying for him, tired of missing the man, and if Graham was to be believed, then Mr. Gold could be coming back any day now.
Belle scowled, because the next time she saw the man, she planned to really let him have it for disappearing on her. Of course, that might scare Mr. Gold out of town for good.
Sunday morning dawned bright and bitter cold, and thanks to another restless night, Belle woke late and was slow in starting her day. The library was closed, and she wasn't working the flower shop either. It was to be another lazy Sunday, but she was determined to break her hermit habit and spend some time with actual people, not just those in her books or online.
So, Belle showered, she dressed, she put on her face and a jacket over her sweater and jeans. She thought to run down to Granny's to visit Ruby and grab something to eat, then check in with Emma to see if she was up for some shopping. Shane had given her a pre-loaded debit card for Christmas, so she had a little extra to spend on herself for once.
Belle made her way down the street, passing the pawn shop as she had for days, and glanced down at the door, expecting to see the sign - but it wasn't there!
She stopped short to look through the window, and caught sight of movement inside the shop. Belle didn't waste any time, she ignored the 'closed' sign and plowed through the front door, crying out, "Mr. Gold!" with all the subtlety of a bullhorn.
The man was standing in his usual spot toward the back of the shop, his arms spread, hands braced forward on the counter before him. He lifted his head to greet her. "Ah, Miss French. Hello."
When Mr. Gold looked up at her, Belle stopped short at the sight of him. Despite his suit, an impeccable grey with a pale blue shirt and thin black tie beneath, the man looked terrible. His face was pale, gaunt, the soft lines that bracketed his mouth seemed deeper, and his dark eyes were bloodshot.
"Mr. Gold, where've you been?" Her concern over his appearance was fading in the face of outright curiosity. She had to know what had taken him away from her for so long, damn it!
Gold straightened, twisting the ornate ring he often wore on his right hand. "There was some business I had to attend to." He said softly, and Belle wasn't in any way naive. She knew he was lying.
"I don't believe you. What kind of business would take you away for a month without a word?" She demanded.
Gold visibly bristled at the question. "The private kind, Miss French."
Seeing Belle draw back at his tone, Gold immediately softened his voice. He was wrong to snap at her when she'd clearly missed him because God knew no one else had. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I'm sorry, it's been a trying time and I haven't been sleeping well."
"I know how you feel, I haven't been sleeping well either." Because instead of sleeping I've been up all night for weeks worried about you, you idiot! She bit her tongue to keep from screaming the rest at him.
Gold speared frustrated fingers through his hair. "I shouldn't have...have you eaten yet?"
Belle was taken off-guard by the question, "Not yet, no."
"Come with me, we'll pop over to Granny's." Gold suggested. "I'll buy you breakfast and we'll talk. Besides, it'll be good to show my face, let the townsfolk know their dragon has come back."
Belle couldn't turn down the offer of a free breakfast, and she couldn't resist the promise in her friend's mischievous smile.
Mr. Gold was not himself, that much had been clear to Belle when she'd first seen him. In the months they'd known each other, in the countless visits between them at the shop and the library and whenever they ran into each other all about town, he had never looked anything other than calm and wholly collected.
Now, though, Belle was seeing a crack in the polished veneer of Mr. Gold. He looked both exhausted and restless, disheveled in spite of his wardrobe, and it was clear that wherever he'd been all this time had caused him a great deal of distress.
But he's home now. That has to be worth something.
Belle kept her resentment over his leaving to herself; Mr. Gold clearly didn't want to discuss the details of his time away, he'd rather stay with this vague story of business out of town. He was hiding something, but the truth of it upset him in a way that Belle had never seen before.
She decided that she would be a supportive friend rather than nag at him to tell her what he would rather keep private; she would be positive, a bright beacon to lift this darkness that had come over him.
Thankfully, she could tell he was more at ease being out of the shop, though whether it was her doing or the coffee that was helping him focus, Belle could not say.
"So, did you find what you were looking for while you were gone?" Belle asked, trying to be nonchalant as she sipped her own cup of coffee.
Inside, she was dying to know what the man had done while he'd been away, and why he was acting so strangely now. His snapping at her in the shop she could chalk up to the trouble sleeping he'd mentioned - that didn't bother her at all, who in the world had never felt a moment's irritation? What was out of character for him was that Gold had offered to take her to breakfast, flaunting their connection out in the open.
Maybe he's just had enough of hiding. Maybe I have, too.
Mr. Gold sat across from her, on his second cup. Ruby was quick in making her rounds with the fresh pot of coffee, but from the curious looks she was shooting to Belle, it was obvious she was just trying to eavesdrop.
"In a way."
"That's good. Did you get anything you need help researching?"
"No. It wasn't that kind of trip. What I look for when I go and what I find when I make the trip are always two different things. What I'm looking for...I won't find it again. Ever." He grimaced, but then gave her a sad, crooked smile. "But I keep looking, so the rumors of my insanity are true."
The man began to tear at his paper napkin, the tension within emerging in his words and the busyness of his hands.
Belle knew that he had just confided something important to her, but she couldn't understand him for the vague phrasing he'd used. Whatever it was, he was deeply troubled by the secret he held.
What could she do but offer her help?
Belle had more questions itching on her tongue, but Ruby approached their table bearing waffles, eggs, sausage, juice and more coffee. They thanked her, and Gold was quick to evade the question he knew was coming next.
"I need ketchup, one moment."
Gold stood and went to the counter for a bottle, just as Regina came into the diner, her lithe form wrapped in a deep cranberry sheath dress with her favored camel peacoat topping it, nude heels on her feet. Belle tensed in the boothe once Regina's dark eyes locked on to Mr. Gold.
The man noticed that Belle's attention had shifted, and he turned around to see Regina standing there.
"So, Gold, you're back." She stated plainly, her voice just dripping with condescension.
"Yes, Madame Mayor, I'm back. Congratulations for having eyes." Gold hissed. "I would've stayed gone but God knows I can't leave this town under your leadership. It'd be anarchy in another week."
Belle wasn't sure what she was seeing, but it was clear to her that, while their voices were saying one thing, their eyes were saying another.
Something was happening here, what was she missing?
"Yes, well, I meant to thank you for staying away this Christmas, but now the holidays are over I see you're ready to sweep in and spread your usual brand of misery. So glad to have you back."
Just as Regina had finished that insult, young Henry came into the diner, oblivious to the tension between the adults. "Mom, I forgot to ask if I can have some - Mr. Gold, you came back!"
Henry rushed forward and hugged Gold about the waist, drawing stares of mingled confusion and amusement from everyone in the diner.
Pain flashed across Mr. Gold's face for a moment before he covered it with a smile and returned the boy's happy embrace. He pulled back and ruffled Henry's hair, true fondness in the touch. "Hey, Henry. How are you? Been doing well in school?"
"Oh, yes, we're starting to learn about the other planets in science class, it's my favorite! I can already name them all." The boy boasted. "Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars - did you know that Mars is the name of the Roman God of War? He was also called Ares in ancient Greece and-"
"Henry." Regina put a hand on her son's shoulder, halting his words. Once Henry got to talking about other worlds, there was no stopping him. "Ah, Henry, we should let Mr. Gold get on with his breakfast. Please, go back to the car. Go ahead, I'm right behind you."
At his mother's urging, Henry did as he was told and returned to the sedan in the parking lot, waiting for his mother to bring the box of donuts, their Sunday treat after church.
Once her son was out of sight, Regina scowled at Gold again. "Whatever you're up to, whatever game you're playing, I won't let you get away with it. I'll be by the shop later."
Gold forced a smile. "Oh, I look forward to that, dearie."
Regina took her box from Ruby, managing to do so without breaking her stare from Gold's. Turning on her heel, she left the diner. In the wake of the mayor's departure, oxygen seemed to rush back into the restaurant, and the other customers resumed their conversations, the diner again filling with Sunday morning chatter.
Gold moved back into the boothe to face Belle. "I apologize for that, it seems our mayor wanted to welcome me back personally."
Belle's jaw tensed with what she was readying herself to say. "Mr. Gold, we are friends, aren't we?"
"I like to think so, Miss French."
"Then what are you hiding?" She asked, crossing her arms before her.
Gold started at the question, rattling his coffee cup. "Excuse me?"
"Stop keeping me in the dark. I'm not blind. You disappear for weeks without a word, and then all that with the mayor?" Belle gestured to the counter where they'd had that toxic exchange. "You two seemed like you were friends after we had our performance at the library, but every time before and every time after that night you've been at each other's throats. Something is wrong, I know it. Please tell me what's really happening. I'd help if you'd only let me."
And that, right there, her words, the truth in her eyes, was what made Gold love her.
And his time away was all the reminder he'd needed of why she could never be his.
Gold looked away, sorry for the lies he had to tell her, sorry for everything that he was. "I just...I have a complicated relationship with our mayor, as I do most people. And as to where I was...I am sorry that I didn't tell you I was leaving. I've forgotten that there is an element of responsibility that goes hand in hand with having a friend." Gold reached across the table to take her hand, pleased that she didn't pull back from him. "I should have mentioned that I was going away."
"But where did you go? The truth this time, please, Mr. Gold." Belle asked in earnest, squeezing his fingers.
Gold wanted to tell her, truly he did, but some things he preferred to keep private, while still others he refused to discuss with anyone, for any reason whatsoever. Gold guarded his secrets as fiercely as a dragon guarded its hoard.
"I was in Sunshire for part of the time I was away." He allowed. That much was harmless to share.
"And the rest of the time?"
Gold held fast to his cup, bracing for Belle's anger. "I'm sorry, that I can't say."
Rather than anger, the woman only chuckled at his evasive answer, and she sighed lightly, letting go of his hand and her determination to root out his problem. Clearly, he wasn't ready to talk, and she couldn't force the issue without pushing him away. "All right. Fair enough, Mr. Gold. You know, you are a man with a lot of layers."
"I am?"
He had been called many things throughout his life, a layered man was far from the worst.
Belle winked, "You're practically an onion." She lifted her hands in mock surrender. "Fine, I'll let you have your secrets. But you have to promise that you'll let me know the next time you need to leave town for so long. I was bored out of my mind with you gone."
Gold nodded. "I will. I promise. Thank you, Belle."
Belle felt a shiver down her back at hearing her name said by his voice, so softly, with that accent. She smiled and leaned in, a conspiring gleam in her eyes. "All right. Now, do you want to hear some of the scandalous gossip that went on while you were away?"
Gold smiled, "Of course, Miss French. Tell me everything."
"Well..."
As Belle went on to tell him of the little happenings about town, whose dog had had a litter of puppies, what new books had come into circulation at the library and the like, Gold was able to relax, the band of tension and anxiety loosening its hold on him.
Ah...
The man could feel it happening. Belle was working her magic as she always did, her words, her smile were soothing him, calming him, lifting the darkness that plagued his mind.
By the time they had finished their breakfast, Gold was more settled, more himself.
Belle was so wonderful, so lovely. She made him forget, she made him feel lighter than air, as if his leg had never been ruined, and he was a man still whole. He longed to tell her so many of his truths, but they had not known each other a year, hardly long enough to confide anything of such consequence.
Mentally he took a deep breath, letting his tension fall away, letting his confidence rise to the surface.
It will be all right, he reassured himself.
Belle forgave him leaving, she was happy to have him back, and he found himself genuinely glad to be back in Storybrooke, to return to the comfort of his familiar routine, antiquing and her visits to the shop.
It was far from what he wanted, none of this was ideal. But if this was all he was granted, Belle, this bittersweet reminder of what he could have, if only he deserved to be happy again, then Gold believed he could go on.
Yes.
He could manage, he could go on with his life as it was.
It will be all right, it will be all right...
And things were, following his return. Gold collected the rent, he took in new pieces to restore, he negotiated deals, he traded favors, occasionally he was berated by unhappy clients who had neglected to read one piece of fine print or another, but that meant nothing to him so long as Belle came to visit his shop and his dreams.
On returning to Storybrooke, he'd driven past her apartment, taken with the fear that she would punish him for leaving in some way, but he should have known she wasn't so petty. She hadn't nagged him to reveal the truth, she hadn't made a scene. Instead, she'd been her simple, kind self and, three days after his return, Belle had slipped into the shop near closing time, bearing two bottles of ginger ale. That evening, it was as if he had never left.
Mr. Gold had been forgiven, and he knew that was no small thing.
From there, things went back to normal between them, though Belle and Gold carefully avoided each other around Valentine's Day, unwilling to twist the knife of their own insecurities.
March was uneventful, as spring swept through Storybrooke with bright buttery sunlight and green buds covered every branch in sight. Gold and Belle had reclaimed and even deepened their routine, spending longer and longer amounts of time together, though still largely in secret.
One night during the first week of April found Belle studying the checker board before her, with two distinct strategies dancing in her mind - both would ensure her victory, but both depended on Gold maneuvering his pieces to her advantage and he was far too clever, far too experienced to just hand her a win.
A thunderstorm was raging outside; it was been churning over Storybrooke for days, and the clouds had burst sheets of rain down upon them just an hour ago. Being from Scotland, Gold wasn't bothered by storms, but his companion was happiest with sunny skies.
Belle blinked as the shop was suddenly thrown into darkness, the background hum of electricity and the music of his radio dropping into silence.
"Ah, that ends our game then."
She could just make out his form across the counter from her, and looking past him out the window, Belle could see that the rest of the block had gone dark as well. She was sure that everyone in the other shops were scrambling for flashlights.
This storm had been simmering above them for days, now that it had broken free it had taken half the town's light.
"I was so close to beating you." Belle remarked as she moved off her stool.
"I've heard it said that you're a dreamer, Miss French."
Belle could hear the mocking smirk in his voice with the comment as she wrapped her scarf about her throat. "Give me time, I'll have you."
"I look forward to that." Gold purred. He watched as Belle tightened the colorful scarf over her throat, frowning when she unsnapped her umbrella. "What are you doing?"
"Hmm? I'm getting ready to go." She thought that much was obvious even in the near-dark.
"Alone in this storm? No, I'll drive you."
"You're sure?"
Gold took his keys off the hook on the wall after pulling on his coat. "It's only a few blocks. Just let me lock up here and we'll be on our way."
In the narrow garage that connected at the back of the shop's work room, Belle circled his vehicle, taking in every line and detail. It was obviously loved and very well cared for; its deep black coat shined from a recent wash, though it was sure to streak now that he had to drive in the storm.
Gold watched her from the doorway as she looked over his car, and he wasn't sure what she made of it until she turned to him. "I love your car, it suits you."
"Old-fashioned?"
At that, Belle shook her head. "Classic."
"Why, thank you."
"Can I drive?" Belle asked.
Gold fixed her with a stern look, "Keep dreaming."
Never fooled by Gold's attempts to intimidate, Belle flippantly told him, "When I beat you, I want to drive."
Gold gave her a sly look. "Oh, Miss French, if you ever beat me, I'll hand over the title."
Belle only laughed as he opened the garage door and drove them into the darkness.
Gold pulled up beside the small apartment building, masking his disappointment that while several streets had lost power, Belle's block had been spared. Had she been caught without power he would have invited her into his home, let her stay in one of the spare rooms until the grid was restored.
Beside him, Belle looked up from her cell phone. "Oh, good, the power's still on. I was worried I'd have to get dressed in the dark for work tomorrow."
"You're lucky. A few years ago my house had no power for days during a winter storm." Gold told her. He suspected that Regina might have had something to do with the delay, but he'd never voiced the thought on the off-chance that she might be innocent.
Belle did not remark on his comment, instead she slipped her cell phone into her purse and gathered her things. "Do you want to come upstairs?"
Gold blinked, surprised at the invitation but damned if he was going to decline. "Lead the way, Miss French."
Minutes later, Belle quietly lead Gold through the defunct lobby where Charles Allen slept behind the desk. Gold didn't like that; here this man was meant to prevent uninvited people from entering the building, but while he slept anyone could stroll in and rob the tenants.
Gold watched Belle as she walked in front of him toward the bank of elevators - she was so pretty, so tempting and so damn vulnerable, tiny thing that she was. She could be robbed - or worse! - with him sleeping on the job.
That couldn't happen.
He made a mental note to see about ousting Mr. Allen in favor of someone more alert at the very least. Perhaps Dove might like the job; he could keep an eye on Belle for him, keep him informed of her taking on any...overnight guests. He tensed at the thought.
The elevator ride up to the third floor was short and silent.
Gold followed Belle down a short hallway and then through a chipped red door, and with two steps forward, he found himself in her home.
His eyes took everything in once she turned on the overhead light, hungry for hints of her private life. In the months of their acquaintance, Gold had occasionally wondered about the little flat that Belle called her own. He'd pictured it several different ways, ranging from an eclectic bohemian jewelbox to a layout akin to Victoria's Secret, all pink and gold trim, filled with books rather than lingerie - though Belle's preferences in that regard had certainly crossed his mind more often than he cared to admit.
What he hadn't expected was a near-empty space with nary a stick of furniture and freezing inside. There was a faded plum loveseat set before a low ottoman clearly used as a makeshift coffee table, a flat-screen television mounted on the wall with a long crack bisecting the screen, and a patterned chair near the window with several books stacked beside it on the floor.
Nothing else.
There were no pictures hanging on the stark white walls, no potted plants, no decorative rugs or bowl of goldfish as he'd pictured for her. Near the tiny kitchen there was a folding card table with a tube vase and lone red flower tucked within, and two mismatched chairs, though one had an amount of clean folded laundry resting atop its seat.
It seemed that Belle didn't entertain much.
"I'd thought you lived here for some time, Miss French." He began, voicing his confusion.
Belle glanced away from the little mirror she'd pulled from her purse, alternately smoothing and fluffing her hair back into some semblance of sanity after the wind and rain had done its damage. She looked around, seeing what he was seeing and wondered what he must think of her.
"I have, I just haven't put much of anything toward decorating. I'm saving all my pennies for something big."
Gold raised a brow, curiosity piqued. Perhaps he could help, and for the first time in a very long time, he didn't consider his end of things. "Care to share?"
She shook her head. "I'm afraid not. It's top secret."
"Ah, women and their secrets." Gold remarked as Belle moved past him into the kitchen and began to prepare coffee. The kitchen was as bare as the living room, the only proof that she lived there at all being a Post-It on the counter. Apparently, Belle needed to pick up milk, cereal, eggs and apples.
"Yes, we're such a mysterious bunch."
"That you are." He watched for a moment as she set coffee and a plate of cookies on a tray. "May I help?"
"It's all right, I've got it. Cream or sugar?" She offered.
Gold shook his head, "Black is fine, thank you."
A few minutes later found Gold as content as could be, stripped of his coat and suit jacket, seated on Belle's plum love seat and pleased that she'd chosen to sit with him rather than in the patterned reading chair near the window. Though cold, it was pleasant to be with her there in her home, and he told her so. "This is very nice."
Belle nodded her agreement, thinking he only meant the brew . "Isn't it? I'm exploring so many blends of tea and coffee, I'm practically on a liquid diet."
"You're on a liquid diet?" Gold frowned and set his cup back on the tray. "You don't need to do that, you're lovely as you are."
"My father might disagree with that, but I'm not dieting, just on a little kick. This past winter it was baking. I started out making a few things for Nova's church bake sale and before I knew it I was baking everything I could until I was up to my ears in muffins and cookies."
"I've had your cookies, you've talent in the kitchen." Gold told her, recalling the cookies she'd made him at Christmas. Soft oatmeal raisin, snicker doodles with just the right amount of cinnamon dusted over top, and orange cranberry sugar cookies, a tart summery counterpoint to Maine's harsh winter.
"What about your father?" He asked, recalling her comment.
Belle took a deep breath and said the name, "Moe French." and she need say no more.
She knew that Mr. Gold was not one for loud upsets, yet she was still relieved when all he did in reaction to the news was raise a brow. "Moe French is your father..."
The woman turned her cup around and around in her hands. "I know, that was another of my secrets. Well, it's not really a secret, it's just not a connection I'm proud of." Belle shrugged. "We're not suited, are we?"
"You and he are a bit...at odds." Gold agreed quietly.
That petty criminal spawned the world's most charming librarian? This world is too strange a place.
"To put it lightly." Belle tried for a joke. "It would be like you having a grunge punk as a daughter."
Gold thought on that. "I never had a daughter."
A missed opportunity, and too late to try again now, but perhaps it was for the best. He couldn't stand grunge rock music.
Beside him, Belle laughed a bit. "Me neither, not yet anyway. Maybe I will tomorrow."
"You want children by tomorrow?" Gold gave her a sly grin. "It sounds like you already have plans for tonight with some lucky man, then. I wouldn't want to intrude so I'll let myself out."
Gold stood in a show to leave, but Belle grabbed his wrist, laughing, and pulled him to sit back down beside her on the loveseat. "You know I was only joking. Don't leave just yet."
Gold shifted on the sofa, looking about the bare space of her apartment, feeling the cold from her lack of reliable heat, and turned to face her fully. "Miss French, do you need anything?"
If Belle would only confide in him what she was saving her money for, if only she would ask, he would give her whatever she needed and more. Who in Storybrooke deserved his generosity, if not Belle French?
The woman seemed to consider his words. There were a million things she needed but only one thing Belle wanted from him. "Your company, Mr. Gold. Stay and watch a movie with me."
"Well-"
"You have somewhere else to be?" She challenged.
"No, I'm - all right, yes, I'll stay." He relented.
Gold resettled on the loveseat and Belle selected a film through her Netflix account.
Belle brought out a blanket from the tiny hall closet and draped it over their laps, then surprised him again when she scooted close and leaned into him. "Do you mind?" She asked. "The heating system won't be back up until tomorrow morning and I'm freezing."
Did he mind that Belle had invited him up to her apartment and cuddled into him for warmth?
Gold shook his head, "No, it's fine. May I...is this all right?" He asked as he leaned back to put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her in closer.
Belle cuddled in and tucked her head under his chin. "That's perfect." She sighed. "You make a great heater, Mr. Gold."
"I aim to please, Miss French."
Belle was quick to pull up one of her favorite films, All About Eve. She had watched the film many times over the years, loving the costumes, the clever dialogue, and naturally, Bette Davis's stunning delivery of the part. As Margo Channing expounded on the trials of an actress's career, Belle could hardly concentrate. How could she, with Mr. Gold wrapped around her, keeping her warm, enveloping her in the subtle scent of his cologne, with his hand stroking steadily up and down her back like she wasn't just his friend, but a companion lover?
A voice whispered through her that it could always be this way between them, that it should always be this way.
Yes...
Gold could come to see her after closing the shop; no more secret visits, no more hiding. It would just be them together, free to explore each other past the simple pleasantries of their covert friendship. She would make them dinner and coffee to share, and afterwards there would be this - him, wrapped around her, enveloping her in his scent and warmth.
Belle's eyes slipped closed, ignoring the film entirely as she pictured it, their perfect little life.
After a few visits over to her apartment, Gold would invite her to his home, that gorgeous Queen Anne on the hill. He would make her dinner, serve her wine, read her something in Gaelic, and after that, he would have her.
Belle nestled in closer to the man, letting the fantasy play out in her mind's eye as he adjusted his hold on her, keeping her secure against him, his hand venturing further to stroke her hair as well. Belle shivered in pleasure at his soft touch, and let the fantasy unfold further.
Would Gold take her into his bedroom and spend hours in gentle exploration of her body, or would he ride her roughly against a wall, bruising her and glorying in the claw marks she would leave up and down his back? Or better yet, why wait until they were at his house when he could take her, right here, right now on the sofa?
Belle relished the scenario and shifted just slightly, pressing her thighs together. Oh, yes. She imagined the hand stroking through her hair to slip lower, under her shirt, to her waist so that he could guide her to move over him, until she was straddling his lap. He would kiss her, truly kiss her, and from there his hands would strip her of her clothing and then of all sense as he touched her, ten wicked fingertips playing over her flesh until she shattered atop him.
As Belle slipped to sleep in her heated fantasy, Gold found a slow rhythm, stroking his hand up and down her back before raising his hand to touch her hair. He sighed in contentment, as peaceful as he'd been in an age. She was a soft weight against him, the mingling scents of her shampoo and perfume drifting over him and lovesick fool that he was, he hoped her scent would cling to his shirt after he left her apartment.
How long had it been since he'd had this? The warmth of a woman nestled against him, the intimacy of just holding another person...he knew it wasn't healthy, what he had done to himself over the years. He was broken. Something inside of him had surrendered years ago, given up on the idea of happiness because he didn't believe he deserved a second chance.
The man had closed himself off from others, pouring his focus into his businesses. It wasn't about amassing wealth and power, being the big fish lording over a small pond - it was about finding ways to ignore the wound in his chest. Business had been his solution, the perfect way to barricade himself from other people.
It was constant; unending in its need for precise wording on paper, each transaction a precise puzzle built on quid pro quo and integrity between two parties.
Gold had spent the past two decades feeding this obsession to distract from his past, and though Storybrooke was a quiet, sleepy little town, he had ferreted out every business opportunity that he could.
Buildings for sale, contracts and leases that had lead to favors, the east coast niche of antique dealing and the routes to buy, sell and trade throughout the country.
Now, though, it was Belle moving into the void he'd carried for so long. She was so lovely, so lively and kind.
The man hadn't been able to hide from the feelings she stirred, the warmth inside he'd thought banished beyond recovery. Gold wanted her. He closed his eyes, picturing her waiting for him atop the sheets of his bed, wet and willing, wearing nothing but the topaz earrings he'd gifted to her.
Suddenly curious, Gold carefully pulled her hair back, satisfied to see that, yes, she was wearing the earrings now.
But the woman was alseep and he was awash with guilt. He couldn't do this, think of her that way while she slept beside him, so vulnerable and open. It was far too tempting: he could kiss her so softly that she'd never even know, he could let his hand wander to stroke her breasts or thighs...
But how sick would it be to violate her that way? How sick was he to even think of such things?
He needed to leave.
Gold moved, shifting under her and taking his arm from around her shoulders. "Miss French, I must go."
Belle woke and stretched her arms out before her. "Oh, must you?" She asked through a yawn.
"Afraid so, any longer and I'll fall asleep too." Gold replied as he retrieved his cane and stood from the sofa.
"Speak for yourself, I wasn't asleep."
"No, you were just resting your eyes and breathing deeply. And talking to yourself." He teased.
"I was not!"
"Mmm..."
"All right, fine. Get going, but before you go take some of these with you." Belle slipped into the dark corner of her kitchen and reappeared just as quickly with a plastic container of fresh muffins - blueberry, strawberry-banana and apple cinnamon. "Just what the doctor ordered. Take with milk or tea twice a day to relieve irritability stemming from job-related stress."
He raised a brow. "And who says I'm stressed?"
"I'm sure keeping the town on its toes can wear on you after awhile."
Gold took the container from her after pulling on his jacket and then his coat. "Thank you. You're always feeding me."
Belle walked him to the door. "Well, someone should be looking after you."
Gold shrugged, thinking on that. "Ah. Not for some time now. Good night Miss French, I'll see you soon."
Belle watched as he moved downstairs and out into the night.
Gold stepped into the house, grateful that the grid was intact on his side of town. Limping about in the dark had no appeal. Locking the door behind himself, he set his keys and the Tupperware container on the kitchen counter. Briefcase and coat secured in the narrow hall closet, Gold reentered the kitchen and pondered the treats Belle had sent home with him.
One dozen large muffins, four of each flavor - blueberry, apple cinnamon and strawberry-banana. He'd thanked her for them and remarked on her habit of bringing him food. If it wasn't a new tea blend she'd found then it would be lunch to share in the back of his shop; it must be as she said, that she liked looking after him. Perhaps she was in the midst of her own infatuation.
He would know, he'd been harboring feelings for her for several months now. It had been too easy to fall for her, though he couldn't see what she saw in him...if anything. He must be humoring himself. More like he was reading too much into a few kind gestures from his friend, feeding himself desperate hope where there was none. Gold knew she cared, he'd made that easy enough for her because she never had cause to see his dark side. He was only ever pleasant and polite with her, opening himself up to her offer of genuine friendship.
Now her father...that was a different story, how had he not known of their relation?
Gold shook his head and chose an apple cinnamon muffin from the container, pairing it with a cup of milk at the kitchen table. It didn't matter to him who her father was. For as long as he had known Belle, he had thought of them as two separate people who just happened to share a common enough last name, and he would go right on thinking just that.
Gold took a bite of the muffin, relishing the moist cake and the subtle sweet spice. Belle was such a talent in the kitchen but he had yet to return any of her favors. He should invite her over for lunch, why not? She'd invited him to spend a few hours at her home, so there was nothing to stop him from doing the same now. He took another bite and thought on that. He could invite her over, cook her something wonderful and then take her right on the kitchen counter-
No, no, that wouldn't do.
Not on her first visit, that is. Gold smirked to himself.
The bedroom, he decided. Yes. His bedroom for their first time. He could not carry her inside, damn his leg, but he could guide her into his room, he could lay her down, undress her slowly and pour every year of his experience into loving her because Belle was a woman who so deserved to be loved. He knew how to please a woman and he would double, triple his efforts to please Belle. To have her panting, writhing, screaming, either beneath him or atop him, oh yes.
Yes, he could please her...but then what?
After they were sated of their passions and curiosity, what then? She would return to her library and he to his shop...he could see no future for them beyond that. Maybe they would carry on their affair in secret for a few weeks but the dirty thrill of it would wear off quickly for her. She would want more than he could give, it was only natural for a young woman in her prime; she would want marriage and children, just not with him.
It would only be a matter of time before Belle felt the urge to move on to something, someone, who could provide her with a real future.
What use would she have for him? He would just be a mistake made on the road to her happy ending.
The muffin Belle had made for him was suddenly bitter, its flavor fading to ashes in his mouth. Gold threw what remained of it in the trash and limped off to bed.