Looking at himself, Rumald turned his head from side to side, inspecting his beard in the mirror. He rubbed his fingers over his left cheek, prickling his fingertips with his beard. Turning his face to the other side, he ran his thumb along the line of his jaw, tired of the face staring back at him. Rumald picked up his razor, positioned it above the start of his beard on his left cheek, and slowly made a stroke into his beard. A small section of his skin, appeared after he removed his razor and swished the head in the hot water. He made another swipe into his beard, partially going over the previous swipe, removing some more of his beard. The more he removed, the more he felt good about it. Shrugging off the mask, he had used, when he had been moping about Belle, and replaced it with his mask of confidence.
Rumald washed his face in fresh hot water, before he looked at his reflection again, seeing his old self in front of him. He felt his left cheek with his fingers, and then turned his face, stroking his thumb along the line of his jaw. It was good to be back in his old mask. Ready to take this serious and do better by Belle, embracing the truth of their love.
Reaching for a towel, he padded his face dry, eyeing his unfamiliar reflection in the mirror, and returned the towel to the rail. Rumald opened his bottle of aftershave, dosed his hand with a couple of shakes, returned the bottle to counter, and then rubbed the fragrance between his hands, to then pad and smear his face in the cool liquid. The sweet sting of the aftershave was easy to bear, while he washed his hands, unable to take his eyes off of himself. He thought it was strange, but without his beard, he could have sworn, he looked a decade or so younger. Drying his hands, Rumald turned his face from side to side, sceptical of what he saw.
He picked his comb out of his toiletry bag, and combed through his hair, noting it was getting longer. Not the longest he'd ever had it. His hair had been down to his shoulders, when he had been married to Milah. Hating the man in the mirror, he had chopped it off one morning, cutting it, as short as he could, with a pair of scissors in his bathroom. Since then, he had kept it short. Combing his damp hair, Rumald neatly parted it, flattening down the unruly tuffs at the back of his head with his hand.
Rumald came out of the ensuite and crossed to the armchair, where he had laid out his clothes earlier. Removing the towel around his waist, he noticed there was music playing in the main room of the suite. He angled himself to see through, but saw nothing, but the furniture of the sitting area. A shrug of his shoulders, Rumald collected his underwear, from the chair, and put them on, before sitting on the edge to put on his socks. As he stood, he twisted his body to pick up his shirt, at the same time, and fed his arm in turn into the arms of the shirt. Buttoning his shirt, his foot bounced to the beat of the music.
Curious, as to what Belle was doing, Rumald picked up his pants and shook them out, and stepped into them as he moved to get a better view into the living area of the suite. She was nowhere to be seen. He fastened his pants, going back to the armchair, to pick up his belt and fed it through the loops of his pants. With his belt secure into place, nice and snug, he grabbed his tie and his suit jacket, from where he had hung it on the back of the door, and went through into the other part of the suite.
Rumald tossed his suit jacket, to the lie over the back of the couch, grinning at Belle, who was sat in an armchair with her legs folded over one another, tapping away at the screen of her phone. Regarding her, he turned up the collar of his shirt and looped his tie around his neck, and tied his tie. It was as he was turning down the collar of his shirt, Belle looked up from her phone and did a double take of him.
"You've shaved!" She announced, smiling, and tapped her thumb a few times at her phone, and the music stopped.
"Evidently." He remained cool, as he picked up his suit jacket and put it on.
Belle pushed herself out of the armchair, and came over to him, asking him, as he tugged at the lapels of his suit jacket and fastened the top button. "How come you shaved it off?"
He pulled at the ends of his shirt sleeves, as he said. "Tired of it."
"I don't know, which I prefer, with or without your beard." She told him, truthfully, touching her hand to his clean shaven cheek.
"Made me look scruffy." Rumald commented, touching the knot of his tie.
"I wouldn't say that." Belle draped her arms around his neck. "Either way, I think you're handsome."
Raising an eyebrow at her. "People would argue that you're biased."
"My opinion is the only one that matters." She told him, edging closer to him, pressing herself against him.
"Good thing too." Rumald agreed with her.
Belle gave him a curious look. "Why's that?"
"Otherwise, you'd have listened to the rumours about me and we wouldn't be here." He said to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
She bit her bottom lip, grinning at him, and said. "It was the rumours that made me notice you." Her cheeks blushed pink. "I wanted to meet you so many times, but I had to make do with seeing you from the library." Belle's fingers nervously played with his hair at the back of his head, and chuckled at herself, telling him. "I wanted you before I even met you."
Rumald smirked at her omission. Holding her gaze, he leaned into her, touching their forehead together, and then swept in to capture her lips. He could not refute the truth. Her honesty was obvious, and the truth stoked the fire in the pit of his belly, driving his animalistic hunger for her. His fingers clutched at the back of her dress, tightening the thin fabric around her body, threatening to tear her out of her dress. She went up onto her tiptoes, pressing herself to his body. Teasing her lips with his tongue, Belle let out a delighted hum into Rumald's mouth, as she granted his wish and opened her mouth to him, and immediately met his tongue with her own.
Letting go of her dress, Rumald stooped to pick her up, grabbing a thigh in either hand, and straddled her hips to his waist, whilst he turned them, to sit her onto the back of the couch. She clung to him, after nearly falling backwards into the couch. There was a thud, but neither were bothered by it. They were too wrapped up in each other, with Rumald snatching his lips away from her, to kiss and nibble at her neck, to notice the odd noise. Belle threw her head back, her eyes closed, enjoying the delightful pain his teeth invoked. Tasting her, he tentatively traced a path up her neck to her jawline, which was when Belle, grabbed the back of his head, and directed him to kiss her again, hungrily devouring the other.
Something let out a ring. Hearing the ring, Belle turned her face away from Rumald, who did not miss a beat, ducking his face into the nape of her neck, returning to assault her neck. She strained to see what was ringing.
"Rumald." Belle called his name, trying to get his attention, but her call sounded more like a moan of pleasure.
Leaning away from Rumald, taking her neck out of his reach, Belle tried again to see what was ringing, while Rumald kissed her chest, through her dress. Inwardly, he moaned about the high neck line, as he shifted his hold around her, so he could free his left hand to cup her breast through her dress. She grabbed at his hair, taking in a sharp breath, when Rumald nipped at her breast, guessing where her nipple was underneath.
She repeatedly tapped his shoulder. "Rumald, there's a phone ringing!"
"Let it ring." He mumbled to the mound of her breast.
"Rumald!" Belle pushed at his shoulders. "Stop, someone is calling!"
"God sakes…" Rumald muttered under his breath, stepping back, bringing Belle with him.
Clumsily, she dropped off the back of the couch, falling unsteadily into Rumald. He supported her, while twisting to see where the ringing was coming from, and pinpointed it to the hotel phone, in the foyer behind him. Rumald made sure, Belle had her balance, and took a step away from her, and became very aware of the constrictiveness of his pants. As he went into the foyer, he grumbled to himself, adjusting himself through his pants, and yanked the phone out of its cradle, when he was close enough.
"Gold!" He barked.
"Err…" Came a very small voice on the other side of the line. "Mr Gold, I'm calling to let you know, your limo is waiting for you."
"Right." He said sternly, his tone softening. "Thank you."
Rumald held the phone away from his ear, and glared at the defenceless piece of plastic, before returning it to its cradle. Shaking his head, he lifted his gaze to Belle, resting back against the couch, she had moments ago been sat on, smirking at him. He straightened his back, whilst he pulled at his underwear through his pants, feeling uncomfortable.
"The limo's waiting downstairs." He told her, walking back into the suite.
Belle bit her lip at him. "We could always stay here?"
"I'd love to, but I promised Jefferson, I'd be there." Rumald bent over, noticing Belle's phone on the floor, and stood, handing it over to her.
"I'll get my coat." She said, as she took her offered phone and swept passed him, brushing herself against him.
He groaned at the physical contact. A short distance away, Belle let out a small giggle, whilst she collected their coats from the other couch, on the other side of the room. She came back to him, laying his overcoat on the couch in front of him, and grinned at him, when he turned his head to look at her. 'Evil minx.', Rumald thought, as she put on her coat and flicked her hair free of the collar. Belle left him, to dump her phone into her handbag, sat on the floor by the foot of the armchair, she had been sat in earlier. As she strolled back to him, fastening her coat, giving him a sultry look, Rumald collected his overcoat and laid it over his arm.
"Come on." He ushered her into the foyer, sweeping her up into his arm, his hand lightly on her back. "We'll continue this later."
Peering at him, over her shoulder, Belle smiled at him. Rumald returned her smile with a sly smile of his own, and reached for the door handle, opening the door for her, watching her closely as she exited the suite.
The limousine pulled to a stop at the kerb in front of Jefferson's new shop. Wrapping the flaps of his overcoat closed, Rumald pulled the latch to release the door, and stepped out. Immediately, he missed his beard, touching his face, feeling the evening chill nip at his freshly shaven face. He sidestepped, out of the way of the door, and offered his hand in time, to help Belle out of the car. Holding his hand, Belle huddled closer to him, edging from the limousine to the sidewalk.
There was a swarm of people, lingering outside of Jefferson's shop, the music from inside could be heard outside, over the din of the people chatting and smoking. The shop was brightly lit, and there was a large Christmas tree, beautiful decorated, on display on the left of the store. They must have put up decorations after he left, as he noted there were large red bows, dotted around inside, tinsel strung up and lashed anywhere they could get it, and lots of Christmas lights decorating the windows and hanging from the ceiling. For Rumald, it was a very over done, but a glance at Belle's face, told him she loved it. He rolled his eyes, as they squeezed through the crowd and grabbed the door handle, pulling the door open for her, gently pushing her through the open doorway.
Inside, there was quite a turnout, with lots of women gathered in small groups, chatting and looking at the dresses on display. Persuading Belle to move aside, Rumald claimed her hand as he walked by her, bringing her with him, and headed through mingling crowd to find Jefferson and Grace. He lifted his chin, spying above the heads of the women. On his left, as they excused themselves through, a woman whispered to her friend, 'Isn't that Rumald Gold?'. The deeper they got, the more he heard his name being mentioned. Hearing, 'I swear that's Rumald Gold. You know, the one who danced with Cora Mills.', made him turn his head, to look at the blonde, who was having a hushed conversation with the woman beside her. He was used to people talking about him. However, normally his name was said with dread, not with the glee many of the women had in their voices. Rumald surmised, they must have been dancers, and pulled Belle closer, feeling uncomfortable with so many faces, looking at him with awe, instead of fear.
"Rumald!" His ears pricked to a familiar voice calling him, and looked to see Regina, waving for them to come over.
Pulling Belle through to walk in front of him, he lightly held his hand to her back, walking with her, to where Regina and Mal were stood. Belle's pace quickened, when she recognised the friendly faces, they were approaching. Casually, Rumald maintain his pace, watchful as Belle got a few steps ahead of him, leaving him behind. Again, he heard his name being said, and glimpsed back, seeing several prying eyes on him.
"I didn't realise you two were going to be here." Belle proclaimed to them.
Regina smiled. "I never pass up free champagne and a chance to peruse Jefferson's dresses."
"She dragged me here." Mal was blunt.
"How did I drag you?" Regina asked, then turned her head to look at Mal. "As soon as I mentioned Jefferson, you leapt at the chance to come along. Actually," She pointed her finger at Mal. "You insisted, that you wanted to come with me."
"Points of view." Mal said as her defence.
Rumald came to a stop beside Belle, saying. "Always depends on someone's point of view."
"I thought you were going to call me." Regina threw at him, shifting her weight on her hips.
"I was." Rumald agreed with her, showing her a brief smile. "I'm waiting to hear back from Dove on a couple of things."
Regina rolled her eyes at him. "If I couldn't find anywhere, I doubt Dove will."
He motioned with hand to her. "Have I ever let you down?"
"No." She said, eyeing him with a hint of suspicion.
Rumald placed his hand on his chest, as he said. "Then have some faith in me."
"I do!" Regina insisted. "It's just…" She let out a long breath. "I'm a little stressed."
Belle reached out to Regina, and touched her hand, holding a nearly empty glass of champagne. "Rumald's been working on it all day." Rumald swiftly turned his head to look at Belle, as she said. "He'll sort it for you. I know he will." She smiled. "Try not to worry."
His eyebrows twitched at Belle. Apart from his aunts, no one had ever had faith in him. Milah had never believed, he would accomplish a lot of the things, he had set out to do. Though, she had been happy to reap the rewards of these deeds, spending money, like it was going out of fashion. With Cora, she had taken everything he had done for granted, using him to showboat, progressing her dancing and propelling herself further up the social circles. Cora had not cared, what he had done, or whether he could do it, she had demanded and had expected it to be done. And here was Belle, believing he would help Regina, and save the exhibition from being cancelled. Her belief in him, made him feel stronger, invincible, and he liked it.
"You need another drink." Mal stated, shaking her empty glass in the air, gazing by them for a server.
"Drink sounds good." Belle beamed, joining Mal in searching for a server.
His phone buzzed against his chest, attracting his attention, and everyone else, to look at his chest. Holding open his overcoat, Rumald slid his hand into his suit jacket, drawing out his phone, from the inside pocket. He read the screen, seeing it was Dove calling him. Flashing the phone, for Regina to see the caller ID, Rumald swiped his finger across the screen, and wandered a small distance away from them.
"Dove." He greeted.
There was a short huff of breath, before Dove said. "Evening, sir."
"What did you find out?" Rumald inquired, glancing back to where the ladies were.
"A lot of the things, I can acquire by Thursday." Dove informed him. "For the sound system, they would need to see the building, to give an estimate and an ETA."
Rumald touched his chin, seeking to play with his beard, and then gave his hand a questioning look, as he said. "Arrange for them to come in on Monday."
"The licenses may take a little work, to get them in time." Dove told him, and added. "We probably want to have a chat with our very helpful Mayor."
The left side of his lips pulled back into half a smile. "I'll take care of him."
"There is another matter, we need to discuss." Dove apprised.
"Matter?" Rumald asked, whilst at the same time, he felt someone touch his shoulder.
Twisting to look behind him, he found Belle, missing her coat, holding a glass of champagne towards him. Rumald took the glass from her, and leant into her, placing a quick kiss on her cheek. Her hand had touched his face, as he had kissed her, and she was smiling at him, when he pulled back from her. Sipping the cold champagne, Rumald observed her, as she strolled back to Regina and Mal.
Dove breathed heavily before he began. "Mr French."
"What about him?" Rumald's voice became darker.
"Wouldn't pay his rent." Dove told him flatly.
Touching his left hand to his forehead, Rumald let out a small groan of annoyance, and said. "His reason?"
"Said, as you have taken his daughter, you owe him." Dove said, as quick as he could, not wanting to the messenger.
"Did he now?" Rumald dropped his hand down from his forehead. "Well… I guess, we'll be having a word with him on Monday."
"Yes, sir." Dove's reply was short.
Ending the call, Rumald returned his phone, to the inside pocket of his suit jacket, shaking his head in disbelief. He owed Belle's father? The man was delusional! He scratched at the crown of his head, his eyes wide, unable to comprehend the madness of her father, or the death wish he had. Snatching at the lapels of his overcoat, Rumald refused to be tempted to fly back that instance, burst into the flower shop, and beat the living daylights out of the man. Though… He wore a smirk, relishing the memory of his hands, being clamped around the man's throat. His only saving grace, had been Belle there, to save Maurice from Rumald. Next time, they meet, Rumald thought as he turned back to where the ladies stood, he would make sure Belle was nowhere nearby.
Pasting a pleasant smile on his face, he moseyed back to where they were stood, sipping from his champagne, and got there as Regina said. "I can't believe they're here."
"Who?" Rumald inquired, peering round the crowded store.
"Cora and Zelena." Mal answered, pulling a face of disgust before she drank from her glass, finishing the contents.
Belle pulled a wry smile at them. "Zelena's alright."
"As long as you don't cross her." Regina commented, and then looked at Rumald. "Or turn her down."
"Turn her down?" Belle followed Regina's gaze to Rumald.
Rumald tipped back the rest of his glass. "Why don't we just forget about them, and enjoy our evening?" Levelling a pointed look at Regina. "Some things are better off being forgotten."
"More importantly, I think we need another round of drinks." Mal proclaimed, offering her empty glass to Rumald.
He took her empty glass, his gaze never wavered from Regina, who held up an apologetic hand to him. Excusing himself, Rumald shook his head, and headed further into the shop, finding the makeshift bar near the door to the stairwell. He placed the empty glasses on the table, and signalled he wanted four more, as the door to the stairwell opened. He had half expected to be confronted by Cora or Zelena, but thankfully, it was Grace, who came out of the door, breaking out into smile when she saw him.
"Rumald." She hurried round the makeshift bar, and tiptoed up to kiss his cheek. "I was wondering, if you were here. Did she come?"
Rumald smiled warmly. "Yes, she's over with Regina and Mal." Hooking his thumb back in the direction, he had come from. "Where's your father?"
"He's upstairs, doing his thing." Grace gestured above them, rolling her eyes.
"I'll pop up and see him a bit." Rumald told her, as the bartender put the four glasses of champagne down, removing the two empty glasses.
"Hey, let me take your coat and I'll put it in dad's office with the others." Grace said to him.
Rumald's eyebrows bounced up his forehead for a second, before he checked his pockets, removed his room key and a set of keys, pocketing them into his pants, and shrugged off his coat to give to her. She took it by the collar and laid it over her arm. Smoothing his hands down his suit jacket, he then repositioned his tie, checking over his appearance.
"I'll pin your name to it, so when you leave, just ask a server for your coat." Grace informed him, and then said. "I'll come find you in a minute. I'm curious to meet your Belle."
He half smiled at her. She backed up from him, smiling, and then whipped away from him, a skip in her step as she headed through the door into the stairwell. It never got easier to reminded how old he was. Rumald could remember visiting Jefferson, aware of Grace, playing with dolls, dressing them in crudely made outfits, while he had been there shopping for himself or with Cora. The last time he had seen her, Grace must have been about nine years' old, a shy little thing, clinging to the back of mother's legs. Now, as he looked at her, Rumald was reminded of how much time he had lost with Neal.
Swallowing down the hard lump in the back of his throat, Rumald collected the glasses up, carrying two in either hand, and went back to join the others. The ladies were laughing at something as he approached. He held his right hand out to Mal, letting her take a glass, and then offered the other to Regina, once Mal had taken hers. They thanked him in turn, while he offered a glass to Belle.
"Thank you." She said sweetly to him.
Her fingers lightly traced heated paths over the back of his hand. Rumald looked down at his left hand, enjoying the familiar tingle of her touch. Flicking his eyes up to meet hers, he could see the want they stirred up, before leaving the suite, in Belle's eyes, darkening her blue eyes. He moved closer to her, putting his hand on her lower back, and, ever so slowly, slid his hand down to sit on the curve of her backside. Gradually, Belle turned her head to look at him, a knowing glint in her eye. He grinned at her.
"You know," Rumald extended his forefinger, clasping his glass in other fingers, and stroked the fingernail down the soft skin of her upper arm. "I don't believe, that I've told you, how beautiful you look tonight."
"No, I don't think you have." She agreed with him, giving him a sultry look.
He leaned into her, whispering into her ear. "You look absolutely ravishing."
"Hopefully, you'll be ravishing me later." Belle flashed her eyes at him, as she said it.
"I don't know about the later part, but most definitely." Rumald told her, flexing his fingers, digging his fingertips sharply into her ass.
She bit her lower lip at him. "I look forward to it."
Touching his forehead to her head, he was half tempted to drag her upstairs, throw her in a changing room, lock the door behind them, and take her there and then. The man, he used to be, would have done it. Though, the old version of him, would not have been so honourable with her. Rumald would not have danced around with her so much, before making his intent known. And he would not have shared a room with her, without taking what he wanted, and let her so easily out of his grasp afterwards. He would have made his move, long before, uncaring whether she would hate him or not. With the way, he could toy with words, Belle would have been eating out of his hands, begging him to take her, after telling her of Gaston's extra activities.
But… A woman like Belle... Ought to be with a gentleman. Not a beast.
"So, Rumald, what did Dove have to say?" Regina asked him.
Deeply breathing in the smell of Belle, Rumald pulled himself away from her, turning his gaze to Regina, as he said. "All become clear, dearie, when you meet me Monday morning."
"Monday morning? Where?" She inquired with a quizzical frown.
"The old picture house." He supplied and sipped his champagne.
Regina scrunched her brow in thought. "I've got to drop Henry off at school, but I can meet you there about nine o'clock?"
"That's fine, dearie." Rumald wafted the glass of champagne through the air, as he spoke, sloshing the cool liquid up the sides of the glass. "I'll be there from seven."
"Rumald." Said a voice, as someone's hand touched his right upper arm. "Regina, Mal."
Turning his head, Rumald smiled seeing Grace stood beside him. "Grace." He backed up a step, bringing Belle into Grace's view. "Belle, this is Jefferson's daughter, Grace."
"Oh!" Belle offered her hand to Grace, her arm brushing up Rumald's front. "Your dresses are amazing!"
"Thank you." Grace smiled, shaking Belle's hand.
"I wore a dress of yours, when we competed at Boston." Belle informed Grace.
Grace's smile widened, her eyes sparkling. "I saw in the Ballroom Monthly." She reached across to touch Belle's forearm. "It really suited you, like you were a fairy-tale princess. Just so beautiful."
The blush rushed up Belle's neck to her cheeks. "Thank you."
"Breath-taking." Rumald murmured under his breath.
The flick of her eyes to him, told Rumald, Belle had heard him. Smug with himself, he persuaded her to come closer to him, using his hand on her backside, as he leant into her, and kissed the side of her head. Her arm slipped around him, and under the back of his suit jacket, for her thumb to hook into the waist of his pants. Leaning back, Rumald smiled at her.
"So, who's going to be here? Your father or you, Grace?" Mal inquired.
"Dad'll be moving here." Grace explained, motioning to the store. "This'll be our flagship store now. And I'll keep the one in Portland."
Mal grinned. "Oh, good." She raised her glass to her lips. "I couldn't bear having to travel all this way, when you're right on my doorstep in Portland."
"But the chance for free drinks and a night away from Storybrooke, isn't too much to bear?" Regina questioned, raising an eyebrow.
Mal smiled wickedly at Regina, whilst she sipped her champagne. Rumald's eyes glistened with his amusement. The two of them have always been the same. Rumald had never taught Mal. She had made her debut at a teen novice competition, giving Regina and Zelena, some fierce competition. The three developed a rivalry, that grew at each encounter, fuelled by one of them besting the others. Especially, between Regina and Zelena, fighting for their mother's praise.
It had been a fateful moment, which had ended the feud between Regina and Mal, bringing them together. They had both been doing really well, and had danced their way into the top five. A misstep, a misjudgement, and not being aware of their space – the two couples had bashed into one another, sending both parties down to the floor. There had been a huge gasp. Rumald could still remember, the feel of electricity in the air, as the crowd had held their breath, waiting for the explosion. At his side, Cora had silently goaded her daughter to destroy Mal, rip her heart out, and other whispered obscenities. To everyone's surprise, and the outrage of Cora, the two had looked at one another and had burst out laughing. Since that moment, they had been inseparable, much to Cora's dismay.
'Somethings never change.', he thought to himself, drinking his champagne. Lowering his glass from his lips, Rumald narrowed his eyes, with thoughts of Cora haunting him. If he had accompanied her, to this sort of party, Cora would have been flouncing herself about the room, drawing the eye of everyone. She would have stolen the limelight, and, sadly, he would have loved it. No one would have interfered with her, scared of what he would have said or done to them. The thought of it, made his gut twist in disgust, hating that version of himself. Rumald slowly closed his eyes at the memories, wiser now, to the fact she had only wanted him for his wealth and power.
Startled by the buzz close to his chest, and the sudden ringing of his phone, Rumald's eyes opened in a flash. He looked down to his breast pocket, knowing it was his phone. He exchanged his glass between his hands, as he stepped back from Belle, and slipped his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket to his phone. His brow pushed up his forehead in surprised.
He slid his thumb over the screen and held the phone to his ear. "Hey, Neal."
"Did you know?" Neal demanded.
His eyebrows narrowed together, as he asked. "Knew what, son?"
"Did you know about Henry?" Snapped Neal, loud enough, that Belle looked at Rumald.
"Hold on, let me go somewhere quieter." Rumald muted himself. "I'll be back shortly."
"Okay." Belle said to him.
Walking away from the group, Rumald tipped back the rest of his drink, and left his empty glass at the makeshift bay, before entering the stairwell. He spied up through the banister, to the landing above, making sure it was clear. Leaning against the wall, by the fire exit, Rumald was not sure how to handle the situation. Habit said to lie. Twist the truth, save himself from his son's hatred. He shook his head at the thought, knowing it would not. It would only buy him a sweet moment, before his son learnt the truth.
"I had a suspicion and confronted Emma about it." Rumald decided to be honest.
There was a frustrated growl and then Neal insisted. "Why didn't you tell me?!"
Rumald touched his forehead. "Because I thought it best, if Emma told you. It was her secret, not mine to tell. Plus, why would you believe me?"
"You're my dad. Course I would believe you." Neal went quiet for a few seconds, and then said. "You're right though. It was best it came from Emma. She should've told me a long time ago."
Waiting, listening to his son, Rumald was not sure how best to precede with the conversation. The father in him, wanted to be back in Storybrooke, offering his son comfort or – probably what Neal was going to be doing – a stiff drink from his vast selection of alcohol.
Softly, Rumald asked. "You okay, son?"
"I don't know." Neal confessed and let out a long sigh. "I'm totally mind fucked."
"That's understandable." Rumald imagined his son, sat on the end of his bed at the house, bent over, elbow propped on his knee, cradling his forehead in his hand.
"Is it?" Neal asked, unsurely.
Rumald quietly scoffed and then smirked. "Seeing, as when you mother told me, she was pregnant with you, I had to go and down a whole bottle of whiskey. Not knowing what I was going to do. I could imagine, finding out, you've got a grown son, would definitely knock you for six."
"I don't think one bottle will cover it, dad." Neal told him, a sadness to his tone.
"How did you leave things with Emma?" Rumald asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"I… I…" There was silence before Neal said. "I really want to fucking hate her. She kept this from me. Lied to me. Kept my son from me. I should hate her. But…" He went quiet.
"That's only natural. And I don't think, she would blame you, if you did." Rumald said, bowing his head forward, looking at the toes of his shoes.
For a long time, it was quiet on the other end of the phone, making Rumald think his son had hung up or had put the phone down. Taking the phone away from his ear, he saw the call timer was still counting and put the phone back to his ear. His heart clenched painfully, wanting to be there for his son. He wanted to pull him into an embrace, cradle his head to his shoulder, shushing his son's troubles away, with the quiet promise to make it alright. The silence was torturous.
Relief washed through him, when he heard Neal sniffle before he said. "I'm more angry at myself."
"Why?" Rumald frowned.
"Cause I wasn't there." Neal confided, letting out an enormous breath. "I should've been there for her, dad. I should've known something wasn't right, when she stopped answering my calls and messages. I wish I hadn't had my head up my ass, thinking she was like you and had abandoned me."
Tightly pressing his phone to his ear, Rumald squeezed his eyes shut, while reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. All he wanted, was to do right by Neal. Instead of bringing some joy into his son's life, Rumald had unknowingly ripped open an old wound. The hurt and hatred, he heard in his son's voice, plunged the words bluntly into Rumald's heart.
"I missed out on so much, dad." Neal told him.
Feeling the threat of tears, Rumald opened his eyes wide and blinked away the unshed tears, as he pivoted round to face the wall, hiding himself away from view. He braced his forearm against the wall, and rested his forehead to the rough surface of the wall, staring at the dark grey paint on the bricked wall. He yearned to turn back the hands of time for his son. Take them back and make everything right. Even if it meant, he would have to give up everything, including the chance of meeting Belle - Rumald would do it in a heartbeat. Anything, if it meant, Neal would be saved from all the hurt, Rumald had caused him. He would give up everything for him.
"I know, son." Rumald whispered. "I know."
Neal sniffled. "I'm sorry, I'm interrupting your evening."
"No, no. You're not." Rumald urgently told him, not wanting his son to go.
"Dad, I… I really… I need to think." His son said with another sniffle.
"Okay, but I'll…" He tried to tell Neal, he would call him later, but he heard the line go dead and looked at his phone to confirm it.
Rumald took in weary breath, gazing down at his phone in his hands. Though, he knew it was for the best, that Neal knew about Henry, a part of Rumald wished he had not said anything to Emma. The promise to never hurt his son again, once again, had been broken. His fingers tightened around his phone, envisioning it was his own heart, so he could crush the life out of it.
The door to the stairs opened behind him. His back snapped straight, while his mask slipped down easily, disguising the inner turmoil he was going through. Rumald's ear pricked up to the sound of heels coming nearer, clicking on the polished floor. Swivelling round, slipping his phone back into suit jacket pocket, Rumald turned to confront whoever it was.
"Cora." He parted his feet, taking a stance, and clasped his hands in front of himself. "And there was me hoping, our paths wouldn't cross tonight."
Cora smirked at him. "Oh, come now. I know you're always happy to see me."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that, dearie." Rumald told her.
"I'm surprised to see you here with her, though." Cora said to him, touching a finger to the end of the banister. "Bit young for you, isn't she?"
He could not help himself, watching her finger trace the curve in the end of the banister. "Age is just a number, they say."
"Experience can't be taught though, my dear." She said, snatching her hand back from the banister.
"No, but it'll come with time and from making mistakes." Rumald sniped at her.
"Well…" She chuckled at him, a knowing glint in her eye. "The irony."
His lips pressed into a thin line, while he looked away from her, staring off into the shadows under the stairs. The few steps she took, closing the space between them, made Rumald bring his gaze back to Cora. She met his gaze, grinning at him, pleased with herself, that she had got to him first. Lifting his chin in defiance, he spied down his nose at her, watching as she reached towards him, pressing her finger into his tie, pushing it into his sternum.
"It doesn't have to be like this, Rumald." She told him, her gaze focus on her finger, travelling down the length of his tie.
Rumald crooked an eyebrow at her, refusing to look at her finger. "You assume, that I want it another way."
Her gaze flicked up to meet his. "You used to want it a lot of ways."
"I still do," He leaned forward, stooping in height to bring his face closer to hers, telling her in a whisper. "Just not with you."
Her fingers unbuttoned the single button of his suit jacket. "Oh, I'm sure, with a little bit of persuasion," Cora lowered her eyes to his chest, as her hands splayed on his stomach, causing the muscles of his stomach to contract. "You'd change your mind."
"I doubt it." Rumald told her, defiantly.
Cora's hands travelled up his stomach to his chest. "I have to admit, Rumald, the whole 'playing hard to get' is a real turn on. Along with our usual banter."
"What do you want?" He inquired, taking a step back, revolted by her touch.
"I've been doing a lot of thinking lately." She began to explain. "And… I think it's time, we should get back together."
Rumald's eyes were bulging out of his head. "Excuse me?"
"We could have it all again, Rumald. We could be number one again." Cora countered his early step, returning her hands to his chest.
"Number one?" His forehead scrunched into deep lines, darkening his eyes. "What are you talking about?"
Her hands glided from his chest to his sides, a short step forward, and Cora was pressing herself against his body. "Us." She grinned at him. "Together, we could dominate the competition again." Her hands pressed him closer to Cora. "Think about it, Rumald. Remember, how good it used to feel…"
Titling his face away from her, Rumald was repulsed by her words, by her physical touch. Out of the corner of his eye, he focused his gaze on the door, wanting to escape. However, a part of him… Was entranced by what she was telling him. He really did not want to listen to her, but… It did used to feel good. The thrill of squashing the hopes and dreams of so many dancers, who believed it was their year to win. Slapping the smugness off so many faces, who thought they were the best. Nobody had been able to beat them, danced as well as they did together, or worked as hard as they had. They were the best, the couple to beat, and the envy of everyone else.
"Us, together, winning." Cora whispered, her breath tickling his ear.
Slowly, Rumald turned his head to face Cora. Her wicked grin spread wider, deepening the shallow lines by the corners of her eyes. A hand came up to touch his face. Startled by her touch, he grabbed her by her upper arms and spun them round, and pressed her into the wall.
"The only us, I'm interested in, is me and Belle." He informed her. "Never, will I ever, want to get back with you."
Cora narrowed her eyes at him. "Never say never, dear."
Rumald let go of her, stepping back as he did, and redid the button of his suit jacket, saying. "Never, dearie."
"I'm telling you, Rumald, you'll regret your decision." She warned.
"You're the only thing, I've ever regretted and I won't make the same mistake." He turned away from her and left her there, smoothing a hand down the front of himself, as he walked purposefully out of the stairwell.
Shaking his head, Rumald could not believe what had just happened, and actually pinched himself to make sure he was not dreaming. Why? Why after all this time, would Cora come to him, wanting him back? Bewildered, he navigated his way back through the crowd, wanting to get back to Belle and far away from Cora. He did not know why she would do this now, and he did not want to know, but… There was one thing, he was sure about – Cora did not stop, until she got what she wanted.