Belle couldn't stand the silence anymore, watching Gold stare at her from a mere few feet away. His eyes were wide and there was a strange look of half panic, half something that she couldn't identify lurking in their depths. "They're out there to watch," she said with a shrug she didn't really feel. It shouldn't be a big deal. Yet somehow it was and she couldn't explain why exactly it mattered. To Gold or to her.

He stayed silent and she hated the look of abject misery on his face. Reaching out to touch him lightly on the arm, she was surprised to see him flinch back a little bit. Moments ago they had been heading toward an intimacy she realized she truly did want. The first time she could ever really remember wanting someone. She still felt the dampness between her thighs, dampness not caused by an overuse of lubricants like she'd needed for her job, but from her natural arousal. It had felt good.

And then this.

"I know," he muttered.

"So I don't understand." He watched her, eyes still wide, didn't respond. "Is it because you've seen me with other men?"

His eyebrows drew together then and she wasn't sure if she was seeing anger, consternation, or something else entirely. He wasn't easy to read sometimes. Emotions tended to flit across his face, disappearing almost as soon as they appeared. This was the most open she'd seen him but even now he was closing down, the mask slipping into place.

"No," he finally managed to get out. "Well, not exactly."

"Not exactly?"

"No," he said again and Belle wanted to throw her hands up in the air in frustration.

"Then?"

"Well, I don't exactly stack up, do I?" He met her eyes then, his lips quirking up into a self-deprecating smile.

"If you mean you're not some overly large hairy guy who is more concerned about how his muscles look than my pleasure? Then sure, I guess you don't stack up." She liked his compact form, his height being closer to hers. Gaston had always been uncomfortable to even hug, much less do anything else with. At nearly six and a half feet he had simply dwarfed her. And he had enjoyed that, of course. Being big meant women paid attention to him. Being muscular meant he knew he looked good on screen.

And that had been the most important thing to Gaston. She had not mattered. She had never mattered.

Gold didn't respond, folding his hands in his lap and staring at them. She could see one hand twitch, the fingers rubbing together.

"You really don't think I want you," she surmised.

"It's more than that," he said quickly. She waited for him to go on, though she was hardly patient about all of this. "I watched you…"

"When?" His head shot up and he cocked his head slightly to the side. "Yesterday?"

"No. Before…"

"Before you met me."

"Yes." And he sounded so pained she wanted to wrap him up in her arms and squeeze him until he realized what an idiot he was being.

"And since then?"

"No."

"Then I see nothing wrong…" She moved closer to him but he moved back and away again, the movement slight, probably not one he even knew he had made. Belle heaved a sigh and watched as his eyebrows drew even lower. "Talk to me…" She reached out a hand, touched his briefly. "Please? It's about more than just those damned videos, isn't it?"

It took him a moment to respond and when he did, he couldn't quite meet her eyes. "It appears I owe you a story." His voice sounded pained.

"Do you?" One eyebrow rose. There were probably plenty of stories she was owed. About Regina. About his son. About any of his life prior to right now.

"Oh yes." For a moment he looked faintly amused before the look on his face darkened again. "About Regina," he clarified. "And her mother."

That was the bomb he had apparently been waiting to drop. She could see him almost flinch. "Her mother?" The words almost exploded from her and she clasped her hand over her mouth for a moment, eyes wide. "You were in a relationship with her, not Regina." She didn't mean to sound so shocked, but somehow it made all the more sense. Regina's actions stemmed from one of…what? Some sort of semi-familial relationship gone wrong?

"For a time," he admitted. "Though it's hardly what you think." The last was said with a sardonic twist, but there was a darkness behind it.

"She wasn't Beathan's mother?"

He shook his head. "I'd say 'God no,' but the truth is his mother wasn't much better."

"Really. I don't think I need to know all of this. We've all had bad relationships…"

His snort of derision surprised her. "Bad does not begin to describe it. If you're going to be involved with me, you probably need to know what you're getting involved with."

"You're going to be honest with me?" She didn't know why that surprised her. It's not that she ever got a sense he lied exactly, but more that he kept a lot hidden. He was like an expert poker player, always keeping his cards close to his vest and only playing them when absolutely necessary. Being let in on his secrets would surprise her.

"I don't lie." The words were slightly defensive.

"But you also don't volunteer much."

"I don't." For a moment he said no more. "But I owe you at least some of this…"

He wakes and it's sometime in the middle of the night. He doesn't know when. The sun has long since gone down and he can see no clock in the room. He sucks in a breath. A second one. He can hear a ticking coming from across the room. There's a clock there. The time is there somewhere.

He tries to reach up for the light and when he shifts he realizes that it's not his bed, not his room. The bed beneath him is hard, narrow. There are rails alongside it, he realizes, as his hand collides painfully with one. He tries to sit up, but is stopped by a voice he doesn't recognize.

"Mr. Gold." There's someone rushing at him. The voice is an admonishment. She pushes him gently back down.

"Where…"

"You're at Community Hospital," the voice starts to explain. "I'll go get the doctor." He hears the scuffle of shoes on the floor as she leaves and he curses.

He can't remember anything. He wracks his brain, desperate. He needs to know. Was there an accident? Was he hurt? What…

"Well, well, I see that they finally brought you low." It's a new voice, accompanied by the click of heels and a sense of darkness.

"They?" The word is choked out of him.

"Well, you, really. What were you thinking?" She makes a tisking noise.

He manages to pry his eyes open, just briefly, focuses on the woman at his bedside. She's not a nurse, not the doctor. "Cora," he mutters.

"Of course darling. I'm the one who found you, after all." She sounds cool, confident. As if she knew this would come to pass.

"Milah," he manages to get out. He remembers Milah…and that jerk Jones. He remembers Jones going after him, knife in hand. It's the last thing he remembers before waking up here. In the dark. With Cora at his side. Always Cora. He doesn't trust her but sometimes he thinks she's all he has.

"Ah yes. Milah. She left you these."

He feels the papers as they hit his chest and tries to maneuver himself up to look at them. But he can't. He's so very weak. His body aches all over. "What are these?" He cannot focus.

"Divorce papers." Her voice is so cold when she says the words. He can almost hear the sneer behind the words. She's won, then. Cora has wanted him away from Milah for a long time, has tried to get her claws into him for years now. "That's why you did this…thing…to yourself."

"Thing?" He feels cold dread shiver down his spine.

"You don't remember? I found you in your backyard. You had taken a sledgehammer to your own ankle."

He shakes his head, or tries to at least. Dizziness overcomes him. "No…" He remembers Jones. Remembers the knife. Remembers the fierce blue eyes, the glare. He remembers Milah laughing. "That was…"

"You, darling. All you." He tries to reach out for her but she backs away and his hand falls uselessly back to his side. She gives a small bark of laughter at his attempts at contact.

"Me?" he croaks out.

"You don't remember what you did to yourself?" She sounds incredulous.

"Myself? No…" He fights against the memories. He remembers the knife. He remembers the pain as the larger man lifted him off his feet. He remembers screaming and over it all Milah's laughter and taunts to just hurry up and kill him.

But he doesn't kill him. He leaves him, life in tatters, body shattered.

"Jones," he starts to say, tries to sit up.

"Oh my dear sweet boy, do you really not remember what happened?" He opens his eyes, watches her blearily. He can see her eyes though, almost too clearly. "You went into a rage, destroyed your office, shattered your own foot…"

"My own…" He cannot finish the words and so instead tried to focus his memories, tries to clear them. He remembers Milah laughing, Jones with the knife.

He hears Cora shuffle closer. "I'll make sure you're safe, darling." Her words leave him cold, but he feels himself drifting away. "You can always count on me…"

Belle reached out a hand and touched his knee, just briefly. "You did it to yourself?"

He gave her a hard look for a moment, lost in those memories, before his eyes softened and he reached out to take her hand. "Hardly," he managed to say.

"But…"

"Cora was a master manipulator. She had the hospital keep me so looped up on pain medication that I didn't know which way was up for weeks. When I finally came out of it, she was there." She watched as he shook his head. His hand trembled slightly in hers.

"How did you find out the truth?" She asked the question gently, but could still feel him tense. She refused to let go of his hand though, squeezing harder as his fingers tightened almost painfully around hers.

"It was a long time coming." The words were so quiet she could barely hear them. "Cora was not quite so careful as she thought. She thought she had me under her thumb. I thought I loved her." He stopped there and Belle realized this was the heart of the issue.

"You thought she loved you." And there it was, his soul laid bare. She knew. It wasn't that he'd seen her videos. Well, maybe it was partially. She still wasn't sure what to think of that but she shouldn't have really been surprised considering he seemed to have an idea what her talents were before he even met her. But the real crux of the problem was Regina…and more so, her mother.

"I did," he confirmed. "I was ready to sell half the business to her. She wanted to be partners. And I trusted her." She could hear the words he didn't say. He had never trusted again.

"And she betrayed your trust."

"You could say that."

Cora has been acting strange for a time now. Not in any specific way he could pinpoint, but there's been something off. Her smiles are tighter. Her hugs perfunctory. He can't remember the last time they were in bed together. That side of their relationship had been dying off for some time while Cora worked on grooming her daughter to be a star director. She focuses on her daughter above else. He can't say he doesn't understand at least some of that, but he's come to worry that it's more obsession than love.

Regina has some talent, he's admitted that much. But Cora has taken to bringing her along with her to the studio, having her daughter watch him. She's young, Regina is, impulsive, but she has a smile like a shark and the uncanny ability to step over anyone in her way.

Like mother, like daughter.

This day Cora is late, as is Regina. He's about to head back to his office, gets a few paces beyond the exit to the studio when he hears them come in, hears their voice.

They're hushed in a conversation he's sure no one is supposed to hear.

"Arsenic?" Regina is saying. There's surprise in her voice, but a sort of satisfaction there that makes the butterflies in his stomach take flight.

"It's odorless and tasteless." Cora's voice is so matter-of-fact that for a moment he's sure she's not talking about what he thinks she is.

"Mother," Regina begins and he can hear Cora move a little further away from where he stands.

"Oh darling, just leave everything to me. In just a few short months you'll be heading up this studio and then fame will be yours."

He nearly chokes on the knowledge, backing away, leaving before they can catch him in his eavesdropping…

He was silent after his story was told and Belle was surprised to find him dry-eyed. She was not, after all, couldn't pretend that she was unaffected by his story.

"I sold the studio," he finished quietly. She had to learn forward and strain to hear him.

"That's why…"

"Yes," he cut her off with and she could see how much all of this had affected him. His shoulders were slightly hunched, tense. His eyes looked wary, almost haunted.

She took a deep breath, reached out a hand and put it over his. She was a slight tremor there as she touched him and so she squeezed, gripped his hand harder. "And the videos?" She didn't want to bring it back to that, but it was what started this whole confess.

He didn't look at her, instead staring down at where her hand covered his. Finally he moved his hand, entwining their fingers as he spoke. "I don't make it a habit to watch pornography." A slight pause, a self-deprecating grin. "Despite what I direct, it doesn't interest me much. But I stumbled across your videos in my years of isolation." He took a deep breath, eyes still downcast. "They were the first thing in a very long time that made me feel something."

"And so you came here and took over the studio for me." There it was, laid right at her feet. She had a feeling all along that that might be the case. The way he had immediately pulled her out of the adult film they were working on, his assertion that she was destined for better things. She had known, somehow, that he had come there for her.

"Yes." The word was short, terse. A confirmation, nothing more.

When he didn't elaborate, Belle squeezed his hand. "Do you feel better for having told me?"

He was silent for a time and she could almost hear the wheels turning, see him weighing the reality of his options. Then he finally turned to her and she could see just the ghost of a smile form there. It wasn't much, but it was something. A step in the right direction at least. "Yes," he finally managed to get out.

As she stood, his eyes met hers and there was surprise evident there. "Come then," she said, holding out a hand.

He hesitated before finally putting his hand in hers and allowing her to draw him to his feet. He went willingly, but once standing, pulled back just slightly. "What…"

"Am I doing?" She gave him a mysterious smile. "I think you know."

"Even after everything you've learned about me?"

She just smiled at him and went up on her toes, gave him a quick kiss on the lips. He returned the kiss and she was thankful for that much. He was coming out of his shell, allowing the shock of everything to start to fade away. She could see it in the way the tightness about his eyes was starting to disappear, the way his mouth was curved and soft. His face had looked hard, the planes of it standing out in the dim room, but he was starting to soften. When she pulled him toward the stairs, he followed easily enough.

A tug at her hand stopped her before she could begin to ascend the stairs. "Are you sure?"

"Of course." She tried to ignore the butterflies racing through her at the thought. She was sure. She knew she was sure. She wanted this. And even if she was nervous, she was going to let this happen.

She only got two steps up the stairs before Gold suddenly followed her, pushing her against the wall and pausing for a moment, his mouth close, his eyes searching hers. He must have been satisfied with what he saw because he suddenly closed the distance between them, his lips meeting hers in a fierce kiss that nearly knocked her off her feet.

This was what she wanted, she suddenly realized. For him to take the lead. One of his hands tangled in her hair, tilting her head slightly as he deepened the kiss. She moaned somewhere deep in her throat and he pressed closer, the wall the only thing holding her up because she was fairly certain without its support that she would have collapsed into a puddle at his feet.

When he broke off the kiss she gave him a dazed smile. "Upstairs?"

"Now," he growled and she shivered. This was the Gold she…well…no, she wasn't ready to admit that much. This was the Gold she admired, the one she wanted. The one that was in control and knew what he wanted.

She turned and raced up the stairs, Gold following a bit more slowly, using the railing and his cane to balance himself as he ascended behind her.

They were in his bedroom and he was pushing her back onto the bed before she could even think. "Lights," she managed to get out as his lips came down on the tender skin of her neck.

"No," he muttered against her before pressing open-mouthed kisses down the side of her neck, occasionally nipping at her and soothing it with his tongue. Her hands came to tangle in his hair and she simply didn't care if the lights were on or off anymore. It was dark in the room and perhaps that was what he needed more than anything.

There would be plenty of time for being able to see as they made love.

His shirt was still open, the buttons long since undone, and she pushed it off of him in one easy move. He tossed it across the room as soon as he was free of it. One his hands skimmed underneath her top, a flowing poncho that she had chosen for specifically this reason. It was easily discarded if the moment called for it and he found it easy to access the skin of her stomach, tracing patterns there as he sucked her earlobe into his mouth. She bucked against him, wrapping her arms around him as she was hit hard by the sensations, by need, by want.

His hand went higher, cupping her breast over the bra and the need to feel him against her was stronger than ever. She reached out and helped him pull her top over her head, leaving her clad only in her bra. Gold touched her gently, skimming his hands over each of her breasts, thumb coming out to tease at her nipple through the sheer material of the bra.

She reached around behind her, thrusting her chest forward and heard him suck in a breath. A moment later her bra was off, joining the other clothes on the ground and his lips had found her, sucking one nipple into his mouth, teeth nipping at it, tongue laving it.

"Gods," Belle muttered as she felt herself move without her even commanding her body to do so. He knew how to use that mouth of his and the butterflies in her stomach took to wing as he moved lower, pressing kisses to her stomach

One finger hooked under the band of the skirt she was wearing and without a thought Belle reached down and undid the zipper from the side, shimmying out of it with his help. Her panties followed a moment later and then she was bare to him. She let him take the lead in that moment as his hand touched her stomach lightly and she could feel the muscles flutter beneath his touch. He moved lower and brushed the curls at the apex of her thighs that had been growing back in since she had, essentially, quit the porn industry. She had always hated that, waxing and leaving herself completely bare. It was what the industry wanted, but she never liked doing it and never liked the look.

Gold let out a soft sound as he found the hair there and she knew he was pleased. She looked different than the porn star he remembered. She was his and somehow that was important to him. One of his fingers dipped lower and she spread her legs, allowing him to press one long finger inside her, allowing him to spread the moisture across her as his finger found her clit and pressed against it lightly.

She grasped his shoulders and pulled him up, away. "I need you," she managed to get out and immediately set to undoing his pants and pushing both pants and underwear off him.

He seemed to hesitate for a moment and she knew what he was thinking. The industry did not worry about her pleasure. He did.

"There will be time for that," she murmured. "For all of that. But now…I need you…inside me…Now."

"As my lady commands." He pulled himself up between her, lips crashing back down on her as he lined himself up with her. He hesitated for a moment and Belle just smiled.

"I'm on the pill. And…everything else is good" She didn't feel like she had to say it. Gold would know exactly what she meant.

And then he pushed forward and slid in and she rose up to meet him. It was perfect, absolutely perfect. He was hard and thick inside her and it felt like everything she had ever waited for in her entire life.

For a moment both were still and then he started to move inside her. She wrapped her legs around him, drew him closer. She could hear his panting in her ear, could feel him start to lose control. Reaching between them he found her clitoris again and damn if that wasn't a surprise. Sex had become nothing more than an act for her. Make some noise, pretend to get off, let the guy gets his rocks off, and then cut.

This time she forgot to make noise. She was so in the moment, the pleasure so all-encompassing, that she simply didn't think. Everything was reduced to sensations, to sounds, and she closed her eyes and let him take her over an edge she couldn't honestly remember anyone taking her over before.

He followed soon after, losing his control and pulling her tight against him as he finally let go.

As they both came down from the high, he rolled off her and pulled her close to him.

"Wow," was all she managed to get out.

"Shhhh," he responded with and so instead of talking, instead of trying to figure out where all this was going, she decided to simply let it go and curled up close at his side, her head on his chest.

As she found herself drifting off, Belle had the strangest feeling that, despite all the current upheaval hell in their lives, she had finally come home.