I do thank those of you who have been reviewing, reading, favoriting and following my little story. I greatly appreciate your thoughts, comments, and taking the time to read this.

Next chapter will be more of the Dark Castle, more Rumbelle fluff, and will take a turn that veers a bit away from S1 canon after the events in this chapter. I hope you will continue to enjoy it!

I do not own "Once Upon a Time."

Chapter 11 - Cuddling

Emma barged angrily into the pawn shop, slamming the door behind her. "Miss Swan – to what do I owe the pleasure?" Gold asked.

"Where's your boss? Or your girlfriend, or whatever the hell she is," Emma said angrily. "I came by the shop last night and neither of you were here."

"That's because it was closed," he remarked. "And Miss French will be here shortly. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yeah. This," Emma said, tossing a singed piece of rope onto the counter. "This smells exactly like that crap you had in the shop the other day. It's flammable. You set the fire, didn't you?"

"Miss Swan, why on earth would I do that?" Gold asked.

"I don't know. You tell me," she replied. "Or maybe you were just following orders from her."

"Is there a problem?" Isabelle asked, entering the shop while Emma spoke.

"Miss Swan seems to think that I was the one who started that unfortunate fire last evening – under your orders, no less."

"Oh does she? Well, I can assure you that Robert was at home last night. With ME," Isabelle said.

"Oh yeah, and you have such a reputation for being trustworthy," Emma quipped.

"Isn't there construction going on at City Hall? Quite a bit of flammable items around a construction site, I would imagine," Isabelle said.

"Why? Why did you do it? And I know one of you did."

"IF we did – it's because you cannot win without something big. Something like – oh, I don't know – being a hero in a fire, perhaps," Isabelle told her.

"I could have left Regina there," Emma said.

"You're not the type," Isabelle replied.

"I won't go along with it," Emma said.

"You just did," Isabelle replied. "Go ahead and expose me. Tell everyone that I arranged for Robert to set that fire. But if you do – just think about what you'll be exposing. And what you'll be walking away from. And who you might be disappointing." Emma glared at her and left, slamming the door once again.

"I'm sorry – you shouldn't have to take the blame for me," Gold said.

"Actually I should. It might work out better this way," Isabelle said, "for everyone."


Gordon Hunter paced nervously as he waited for the debate to begin. Public speaking was definitely not his forte. He was an action man, not a politician. Mayor Mills didn't say anything about having to actually run for the position when she first asked, and if he had said no once he found out he would have been humiliated even more than he already was by Isabelle's very public shunning of him. What choice did he have? Then again, he was running against a woman, for heaven's sake. He couldn't possibly lose to a woman, especially one with a criminal record that the town barely even knew. What was he so worried about?

He looked up as he sat on the stage waiting and saw them. Isabelle and that – that – that foul little man she had taken up with. Holding hands. Smiling and holding hands. Looking straight at him, too. As if she were daring him to make a scene, right there in front of the whole town. Gordon fumed with anger and he shot daggers at both of them with his eyes. His first job once he won this election: Get rid of Robert Gold. He wasn't sure how – it didn't even matter how. Sheriffs carry guns in public. Accidents happen. People are in the wrong place at the wrong time. He'd worry about the details later. Gordon snapped out of his vengeful fantasy when he was called to the podium to make his first remarks. Mayor Mills prepared a statement for him, and he dutifully read it. Feeling confident, he returned to his seat and awaited the words from the blonde girl – Ella or Eva or whatever the hell her name was – didn't matter. He was going to win. He barely paid attention to what she was saying – until he heard her say something that pushed his anger level up to a level of fury that he could barely contain.

"The fire was a setup," Emma began. "Isabelle French agreed to support me in this race, but I didn't know that that meant she was going to arrange to set a fire. I don't have definitive evidence – but I'm sure. And the worst part of all of this was – is – I let you all think it was real. I can't win that way. I'm sorry."

What. The. HELL. Isabelle was supporting HER – the girl? Against him? Isabelle had her little flunky set a fire in order to make this woman look like some heroic figure! Gordon watched as Isabelle and Gold got up from their seats and left after Emma Swan spoke. Everyone turned to watch them. Oh, this was the last straw. He was not going to sit back and let Isabelle and her creepy little sidekick humiliate him. Gordon Hunter was going to take back his dignity – one way or another.


Several days later, Isabelle and Gold prepared to close up the shop – they had just received news that Emma Swan, despite all the odds, had won the election. She was the new sheriff. "I wonder who will burst in her first to unleash their wrath, Gordon or Mayor Mills," Gold commented.

"I expect both at some point," Isabelle replied.

"Indeed," Gold said. He moved next to Isabelle and put his arms around her. "How about we go home and have a nice, relaxing evening. I'll prepare dinner."

"Is this part of your courting process?" Isabelle asked. "I have to admit, it has been fun – the priceless looks we get as we walk about town hand in hand – that alone is worth it."

"Oh, there's much more to look forward to, dear."

"You're convinced I will love you, aren't you?"

"I'm not convinced you won't," Gold replied. "Let me just put a few things away in the back and then we can go." Gold headed into the back room as Isabelle continued to put her ledgers away. The door to the shop flew open and slammed – dammit, she forgot to lock it. Not that it would have kept the bastard out.

"Well – I was wondering who would be the first to come by here for a fit, you or Regina," Isabelle commented. "You're very predictable, Gordon."

"Did you set the fire?" Gordon asked angrily.

"I don't believe I have to answer to you," Isabelle replied. Gordon marched behind the counter, grabbed Isabelle with force, and shoved her against the wall.

"I say you do," he said, gritting his teeth. "I've been VERY patient with you, Izzy – figuring this was just another one of your pouting sessions where you shut me out until you're bored and decide that you want me back in your bed. But you took it too far. You don't get to make a fool out of me, Iz. You're coming home with me – we will have this out, and you are going to -" Gordon was stopped mid-sentence by Mr. Gold's cane coming down with force against the back of his neck. He let go of Isabelle and stumbled backward, dazed.

"You do not hurt Belle, you psychotic thug," Gold said, showing a level of anger that Isabelle had never before witnessed. He raised up his cane to strike Gordon once again, but Gordon, regaining his composure, grabbed it and yanked it from Gold's hands.

"You want to fight, old man? Let's fight," Gordon said. He pulled back his hand, forming a fist, and slugged Gold in the jaw, knocking him onto the floor.

"Robert!" Isabelle screamed. She tried to move toward Gold, but Gordon pushed her back. He scooped Gold off the floor by his collar and shoved him over the counter, holding him by the neck. Gold struggled to breathe.

"You need to learn to keep your filthy paws off of what does not belong to you, little man," Gordon shouted at him. "Isabelle is MINE!" Gold managed to lift his good leg and proceeded to knee Gordon in the groin. Gordon winced and let him go. Gold stood up, staggering a bit. He reached down for his cane, which Gordon had dropped on the floor, but Gordon quickly regained his composure and lunged for Gold, shoving him against the wall and punching him in the face once again. Caught up in his fury, he paid no attention to Isabelle during his fit of rage, nor did he notice her reach into the drawer for her pistol.

"Let him go or I will kill you," he heard Isabelle say. Gordon turned around, still pinning Gold against the wall, and saw Isabelle standing behind him, the gun pointed straight at his head.

"You wouldn't dare," Gordon said.

"I'm a better shot than you are, Gordon," she remarked. She pulled back on the trigger and shifted the gun a bit as she fired, shattering several glass items on the shelf behind them. "That was a warning. Next one won't be. Let him go and GET OUT." Gordon sneered at Gold and released his grip on him – Gold collapsed to the floor. Isabelle continued to point the gun at Gordon. "Leave and be grateful that I'm letting you do so – if you come back I will shoot you before you utter one word." Gordon moved toward the door.

"You're not getting away with this, Izzy. You don't get to ruin my reputation this way," Gordon said.

"I believe I just did. GO," Isabelle said angrily, still pointing the gun at him. Gordon left, slamming the door behind him. Once she was sure he was not returning, Isabelle rushed to Gold's side. He was sitting up a bit, dazed and trying to catch his breath. Isabelle set her pistol down on the floor. "Robert – oh, are you alright?" she asked, brushing the hair from his eyes and surveying the severity of his injuries. His lip was bleeding and swollen, and swelling was already beginning to form around his right eye – he would definitely have a blackened eye by the next day.

"I'll be fine," he replied in a breathy voice. "I could have taken him if the bastard hadn't gotten my cane. Did he hurt you?" Gold asked.

"I'm alright. Come on – let's go home," Isabelle said, helping him stand up. She handed Gold his cane and picked up her pistol, carrying it with her as she helped him to the door – just in case.


"This is becoming a habit with you," Isabelle teased as Gold laid back on the sofa and she held an ice pack to his face, alternating between his jaw and his swollen eye.

"Does it look bad?" Gold asked.

"Well, don't expect to be entering any beauty contests for the next week or so," Isabelle joked.

"That was never something on my 'to do' list to begin with, so no real harm done then, I suppose," Gold replied. "I know I said I'd make dinner tonight but I think I'll have to postpone my offer, I'm not really up for that."

"It's alright. I'll take care of it," Isabelle said. "Do you think you can eat anything? Maybe some soup – you won't have to chew much, I'm sure your jaw is quite painful right now."

"That's fine – thank you Belle," Gold replied.

"Why don't you change into something more comfortable, and I'll get started on that," Isabelle said. "Do you need help?"

Help changing clothes – from Belle. That was an appealing idea, Gold thought. But he'd best pass for now. Things were going well and at a good pace, and he didn't want to deter that in any way.

"I can manage," Gold replied.

"Just stay here and rest then when you're done – I'll let you know when it's ready." Isabelle got up from the sofa and went into the kitchen. She prepared the soup, put it on the stove, then went upstairs to change into a more comfortable outfit, returning in a loose t-shirt and exercise pants. Gold limped into the dining room wearing a pair of his pajamas as she returned downstairs.

"I look like a hideous beast," he said as he sat down at the table.

"Oh, you poor thing," Isabelle said, sitting down next to Gold. "I should have shot the bastard."

"Never seen you in that before," Gold commented on her outfit.

"I usually wear it to the gym but I haven't been in awhile because – well, I really didn't want a scene with Gordon and there most certainly would have been one. I'm thinking about purchasing some exercise equipment for the house, I really do miss it."

"Sorry about the pajamas – I really don't have any other clothes that would qualify as 'comfortable.'"

"It's fine – you wear whatever you like," Isabelle said. Gold reached for her hair – he removed the clip that was holding her hair in a bun.

"Why do you always wear your hair up like that? You're much more beautiful when it's down. You have lovely hair, you shouldn't hide it by pinning it up all the time."

"It looks frivolous when it's down. Wearing it up makes me look less – vulnerable."

"There's nothing wrong with a little bit of vulnerability. People like to see a softer side now and then."

"Not from me," Isabelle said. "The soup should be about ready – I'll get it." Isabelle went into the kitchen and brought their meal out. They sat together quietly and ate, Gold grimacing several times due to his aching jaw.

"Thank you for a lovely dinner, Belle," Gold said after they had finished.

"It was just soup," Isabelle replied. "Come on – let's go sit down." Isabelle took his hand and let him to the sofa. She sat down next to him and sighed in exasperation.

"Here – let me help you unwind," Gold said. He reached for her neck and began to massage it gently. "You're very tense, dear."

"You don't have to do that," Isabelle said, moaning a bit as Gold continued to massage her.

"I want to. My way of thanking you for once again tending to my injuries, hopefully for the last time."

"Let's hope – when I agreed to let you live here, being your nursemaid was not part of the arrangement," Isabelle teased.

"How does that feel?" Gold asked, as he moved his hands down her back.

"Wonderful. Like – like magic," she whispered. "All these years I've been paying a professional masseuse when I could have just had you do the same."

Gold lifted her sleeve a bit to massage her arms, and noticed a bruise there on her left upper arm – it was a fresh bruise, with several markings that were the size of fingertips. Gordon did this when he had grabbed her. Gold touched it gently, and Isabelle pulled her arm back, sensitive to the touch.

"Did he do this? Was he so rough with you that he hurt you like this?"

"It's fine," Isabelle replied.

"No, it is NOT fine, Belle. If he wants to use me as his punching bag that's one thing, but he does not get to hurt you this way."

"It'll heal."

"Has he hurt you before? Given you bruises like this?" Gold asked. Isabelle hesitated for a moment.

"Gordon has a temper. I can handle him most of the time."

Bastard. Gold realized that he was not one to judge regarding temper. He had one himself, and it was quite a sight to behold. He recalled many a time when it got the better of him. Belle's entrance into his life and her love for him had helped him to contain it, but he still had the occasional fit now and again, over a deal gone bad or other such nonsense. But he had never, ever struck his Belle. He did handle her with anger several times before he realized his affection for her, and the one time he grabbed her roughly in anger after she kissed him had petrified him. Fortunately he had never left any mark on her lovely skin, but he was still ashamed of his behavior. The thought of hurting her ever again was something he could not bear. He begged her forgiveness afterward, acknowledging what an ass and a brute he had been, and swearing that he would never again lash out at her that way, and he most certainly would never strike her. She accepted his apology and she believed his promise to her – he knew that if he went back on that promise, even once, she would leave. She was far too precious to him for that to ever happen, and over time he learned to develop better self-control to ensure that it never would.

"Oh, Belle," Gold whispered, pulling her into a hug, "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault. It hardly even hurts, I promise." She was lying, he could tell. But he didn't want to push the discussion any further, because then he would get angry.

"Here – let's relax for a bit," Gold said. He leaned back on the sofa with Isabelle still his his arms.

"What are you doing?" Isabelle asked.

"We're going to cuddle, dear," Gold said. Isabelle began to pull away.

"I don't cuddle."

"You do now. You need to learn to loosen up more." Gold leaned back on the sofa and reached his arms out to her, and Isabelle somewhat reluctantly allowed him to pull her close. She took a few moments to settle in comfortably, her head nestled upon his chest, his arms wrapped around her. "There – not so bad, is it?"

"No. Not bad at all," she replied. "Gordon never did this sort of thing."

"Belle, I really don't wish to hear any detail right now about what Mr. Hunter did or did not do with, to, or for you," he remarked. Isabelle looked up at him.

"Jealous?" she asked.

"Perhaps," Gold said. Not really jealously, he thought. More like homicidal rage.

"Don't worry – I have absolutely no interest in returning to Gordon, especially after tonight," Isabelle said. Gold began to caress her hair a bit, and she sighed contentedly.

"That's nice," she whispered. "You're a very nice man, Robert." Gold smirked a bit. Well – Mr. Gold was nice, for the most part. But Rumpelstiltskin – no, he was not a nice man. But he wanted to be – for her.

"Perhaps tomorrow we can stay in for the day. Maybe watch a movie. Cuddle some more. Would you like that, Belle?" he asked. Isabelle did not respond. "Belle?" he asked once more. He looked down at her – she was sound asleep. At that moment, it didn't matter that she was Isabelle French. She was with him – she trusted him, had come to him willingly, with no plot or scheme in mind, and she was asleep in his arms. For tonight, he could pretend that she was his Belle, because he was confident that it was only a matter of time before she truly would be once again. "Good night, sweetheart," he whispered, gently kissing her on the top of her head, barely touching her. Gold closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off to sleep, clinging tightly to Isabelle the entire night . . . .