With his elbow posed on the edge of his workbench, his forefinger rubbing rhythmically across his top lip, Rumald stared at the ledger book, laid open in front of him, hardly touched for the past two hours. He had plenty of work to getting on with. Projects, which required his attention. Normally, he would have been throwing himself into them, putting as much vigour into them as he could muster, losing himself to his thoughts, channelling his attention to sort through his problems. Nothing was helping him focus his mind. Through the day, his worry for them, had overpowered his ability to think. Leaving him to stare into space, soothing his lip, as he tried to envision Cora's big picture, what exactly she gained every ruining their lives.
Nothing.
This was all part of her game. She knew him too well and Rumald was playing straight into her hands, which was making his blood fester. Cora was well aware, he would not tell them, would choose to do this on his own, fight this battle by himself. Rumald would never class himself as a hero, as his son had called him the other night, but when it came to family, people he loved, he would give up everything and she was well aware of that fact. It was why she had played him so well before. Preyed on his weaknesses, pleaded to his need to protect, fed his hunger to please her, even though it meant he had to sacrifice his son to please her… Which he had done without a second thought.
He was more annoyed at himself than he was at her. Cora didn't know any better. This was her all over, manoeuvring pieces on the board, putting them just where she wanted them until she was ready to play them. Her board was set and she was ready to play, except she had rigged the board against him. Using her personal knowledge of him against him.
The winning strategy was right at his fingertips. The most obvious and easiest solution to his problem – Tell them everything.
Cora would never expect him to do it, because he would never expect himself to do it. Telling them would admit, he was weak and unable to handle the situation. Pride held him back from doing it, never wanting to admit the truth about himself. Admit, he was just like his father and everyone had been right about him, all the things they had ever said about him, had been right. His anger was his biggest fault. Angry, because he wanted to protect them, wanted to put Cora in her place, wanted vengeance for how she had ended things, wanted to squash out the memory of the little boy, who had clung to her in fear of being lonely again, and wanted so very much, more than any of the other reasons, to make Cora pay for the time Neal and Regina had lost of their childhood.
Which was what scared him, because of these failings, he could possibly lose the one person, who mattered more to him than Neal. His failings were going to be his downfall, once again. Not only though, would they cost him the love of his son, which could possibly happen again, if he played Cora's game, but it could cost him Belle's love. That was a price, he was not willing to pay.
Yet… He could not stop himself.
His finger ceased moving across his lip as Rumald closed his eyes, wishing to whoever was listening, to give him the strength to be a better man. 'Why do I have to make this hard on myself?', and the answer was there, he did not need to. They were all a phone call away, he could summon the three of them to his shop, explain the situation to them and they could brainstorm the issue together. Dropping his hand to flop onto the workbench, opening his eyes to look at his idle phone, sat in arm's reach of him, he knew he would not call them. His heart was tearing itself to pieces at the truth, inconsolable to the evitable certainty that Rumald was about to lose everything and it would be his own fault again.
The bell above the shop door in the front of the shop, rung out cheerfully, waking him from his stupor, giving him enough time to gather himself together, before the curtain twitched. It easily moved to one side, allowing Belle to step into the backroom, instantly brightening the atmosphere.
"Belle." He was genuinely surprised to see her.
Her brow creased at him, holding her hand out to motion to him, as she said. "You're not ready to go."
"Go?" Rumald asked.
Belle swung her handbag up and onto his workbench, half smiling half frowning at him. "Nolan's, dinner, tonight. Remember? Neal asked us at breakfast to go…"
Frowning at her, at his workbench and then down at himself, Rumald closed his eyes, remembering the conversation from breakfast. "Shit."
"Shit, indeed." She agreed and chuckled at him. "Don't worry, we've got time."
"Right…" He opened his eyes to look at her. "Okay." And then slipped off his stool, closing the ledger to return it to the large cabinet.
As he turned the small key to lock the ledgers away, Belle asked him. "What happened to your cabinet? Looks like someone kick the hell out of it."
Stepping back, Rumald surveyed the damage, he had done the previous night, to the lower part of the cabinet. "Erm…" He swivelled on the balls of his feet to face her, waving a hand through the air. "It was stuck and I needed something out of the draw."
"So you kicked it?" She looked at him, sceptical of him.
"I may have lost my temper just a little bit with it." He explained to her, showing how much with his thumb and forefinger.
Her head lopped to the side, a cynical look on her face as she said. "You, Rumald Gold, lose your temper?"
"It does happen." He told her, crossing to the small washroom.
"I know it happens, we're all human at the end of the day." She remarked, her voice sounding slightly distant after he entered the small washroom.
Rumald tugged on the cord, turning on the light in the washroom, twisted the taps both on and put the stopper into basin before tugged, in turn, his sleeves up his forearms. Flicking his gaze up to himself in the mirror, the feeling of déjà vu crept its way up his shoulders, tickling at the small hairs at the back of his neck. He half expected Cora to sidle into the doorway, but he did not dare look. His fists clenched on the rim of the sink, envisioning what he would do to her, if she dared to step foot in his shop again.
"I guess I'm just surprised, really." Belle voiced in the backroom. "I've never known you to be anything, but cool and calculated."
He turned off the taps, saying. "People have their breaking points, sweethearts."
Belle suddenly appeared in the doorway, as he plunged his hands into the warm water. "Course, they do." She slumped up against the doorframe as she said. "You would tell me, if something was wrong, wouldn't you?"
Rumald held his breath, his hands submerged in the water, looking at her with wide eyes. In his head, he wanted to say, 'No, sweetheart, my ex is threatening to hurt the people I love and wants me to end things with you, unless I agree to be her dance partner again.'. His mouth opened, attempting to say this, but he quickly clamped it shut and forced a smile onto his face.
"I'm fine, sweetheart." He lied, twisting the knife in his own gut.
She came further into the small room, which was not much, whilst he picked up the soap to lather his hands in the water, telling him. "You know, you can tell me anything, Rumald."
Her words had captured the hilt of the knife in his gut, twisted it and yanked it up, shoving it up and under his ribs and into his heart. Rumald's knees became weak, faintly shaking behind the cover of his pant legs. Pressing his lips into a thin line, concealing the quiver in his bottom lip, Rumald wanted to drop to his knees at her feet, begging for her forgiveness as the truth spilled from his lips. Her eyebrows twitched, able to see a trace of what he was hiding behind his mask of indifference.
"I know, sweetheart." Rumald brushed the backs of his wet fingers over her cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm just thinking of work, I've got a lot of things I need to organise, if I'm going to spend the holidays with you, instead of working."
It was not a lie. It was a thought, he had been keeping at the back of his mind, which he was now using as an excuse. It was a white lie. Not a dark and self-serving lie, it was the truth… Somewhat.
Her face lit up at him, jolting the knife even deeper into his chest, whilst her hand touched his face, beaming a smile at him. "Oh, Rumald!"
"Well… that's if you want to…" His words trailed off, with a thought of doubt entering his mind.
"I wouldn't want to spend it with anyone else." Belle told him, slipping her hand round to the back of his head, urging him to meet her lips, sweetly but firmly kissing him.
She pulled back and glanced down at the sink. "You better hurry up, or we're going to be late."
"Okay, sweetheart." He said softly, nodding his head at her.
Belle backed up, repositioning herself in the doorway as he began lathering his hands again, telling him. "I popped out earlier and got a bottle wine to take with us."
"Good idea." He mumbled, smearing his face with the soap.
"I saw Neal with Henry and Emma earlier." She shared with him, whilst he rinsed the soap off his face, mindful of his shirt and waistcoat. "Must have collected him from a school. They looked really happy together."
Rumald pulled the hand towel off the nearby rail and patted his face dry. "Sadly, if it hadn't been for me being his old man, he would've spent most of his Friday afternoons like that."
Throwing the towel over his shoulder, he washed his hands and pulled the stopper out of the bottom of the basin, and dried his hands on the towel drape on his shoulder. His already shredded heart was battered and bruised, from the truth of Emma's words. Yet, it stung him deeply that Mary-Margaret had intervened, keeping his son from knowing his own son, because of him. All this heartache his son was going through, was because of the choices and the things Rumald had done in the past. Instead of him paying the cost, his son was the one being burdened with the consequences of his father's actions.
"It's not your fault." Belle assured him, smoothing her hand up and down his left arm.
"Sure looks like it to me." He commented, returning the towel to the rail.
She grabbed the front of his waistcoat, directing him to turn and face her. "They kept this secret from Neal, not you. There's no excuse for what they've done."
"Everything always ties back to me." Rumald shook his head, placing his hands at her waist.
"Stop being so hard on yourself. You didn't make them do this." She jostled him by his waistcoat. "No matter what you've done in the past, they shouldn't have kept it from him."
"I appreciate what you're saying, sweetheart, but that'll never stop me feeling guilty." He informed her, drawing her closer to hug her.
Pushing her hands on his chest, Belle leant back until she could see his face and said. "Is this what's been playing on your mind? You've been acting strangely since New York, when you got the call from Neal."
Here was his second chance to come clean with her.
Her eyes were imploring him to tell her, to share his dark little secret with her, and she would listen to him and then she would tell how stupid he was being. How this was not just his problem and they should get Neal and Regina and discuss it. She would insist they could do this together and they probably could. But, she did not know Cora. She did not know who they were dealing with. Belle was too gullible to see the evil in someone's soul. Otherwise, she would have run for her life, if she could see what lived inside of him.
"Somewhat." He told her lamely, his head dipping to the side, avoiding eye contact with her.
"You're a stupid fool." She softly smiled at him, moving her hands up from his waistcoat to cup his face between her hands, using her hold to make him meet her gaze. "You should've just said."
Wrapping her arms around his neck, Belle hugged him, cradling the back of his head, combing her fingers through his hair, while whispering sweet nothings into his ear. If he was a better man, the one she deserved to be with, he would have pulled himself out of her embrace and told her truth. Accepted the consequences and reveal everything to her. Closing his eyes, burying his face into the crook of her neck, Rumald consented himself to the fact he was not and clung to her. He was a coward, through and through, that was who he was and would always be. The coward, who hid successfully behind a façade of power and wealth.
It was no long after that, Rumald had escorted Belle out of the shop, locking it up as they left, and drove them over to the Nolan residence. As he drove, Rumald awkwardly played with the ring on his right hand, flicking at the silver band on his finger. He had nothing to fear, he knew this. What exactly could Mary-Margaret do to him, apart from glare at him all evening? Nothing. She was a scorned child, holding a grudge against a bystander, because she needed someone to blame, for Cora coming into their lives. She was no doubt right on some level. Nevertheless, Rumald was unnerved about spending time in her company, and he did not like it.
He chanced a look across at Belle, she was bobbing her head in time with the music, mouthing silently along with the music. Reaching his hand across to her, he rested it on her thigh and she instantly covered it with her own, lovingly stroking her thumb across the back of his hand. The knife in his heart eased at the picturesque scene of her. The love he felt for Belle was burning brightly, lessening the harsh ache he felt in his heart. Thinking what his life would be like again, without her by his side, made Cora's threats very real.
One handed, he turned the steering wheel, taking the turn into the Nolan's street. He slowed and pulled up to the kerb, parking behind the yellow VW beetle of Emma's. Switching off the car, Rumald scrutinised her beetle as he wrapped his fingers about his door latch, pondering what delights Emma may feel to share with him this evening. Her words about his son still lingered, the sting of them heavy, as he got out of his car.
Eyeing the car as Rumald rounded the front of his own to open Belle's door, his gaze went up to the Nolan house. It was a large white house, nearly as big as his own, except it did not have the third floor like his house did. Pulling open the passenger door, Rumald glanced up the street to see Neal's BMW parked in front of the beetle and Sheriff Nolan's truck, 'Storybrooke Sheriff's Office' written down the side of it, parked in the driveway at the side of the house.
He moved around the car door and offered his hand to Belle. "I'm sorry for making us late."
"I'm not bothered." She told him, using his aid to get out of his car, and said, standing to her full height, grinning at him. "Being with you is all that matters to me."
His shoulders sagged, while his heart clung to the cage of its imprisonment, wanting to get to her. Rumald lifted the hand he held to his lips and pressed a sweet kiss to her knuckles, holding her gaze over the top of her hand. There was a small smile on her face, but even after nearly two weeks together, he recognised the look of lust in her eyes. He was tempted to shove her back into the car, lock her door and take her home, but he had told Neal he would come and she had helped persuade him to make this decision.
With their joined hands, he led her away from the car and pushed her car door shut her for. Stepping closer to her, putting his hand on the small of her back, Rumald went to guide her up to the house, but was stopped by her pivoting and taking a hold of his tie. She repositioned it and tightened it, a little tug on the small tail of his tie.
"Tonight, Rumald Gold," Belle started to tell him, smoothing her hands down the front of his overcoat. "You leave your thoughts here at the car and enjoy an evening with your family and your…" She bit her lip in thought, a glint of mischief in her eye. "Significant other."
A slow grin spread his lips, while he rubbed his hands up her back, enjoying the little domestic scene of her making sure her man was presentable. "Doesn't quite have the same ring as 'True Love'."
She smiled, asking him. "What about your reputation, Mr Gold?"
"It doesn't mean anything without you, sweetheart." He told her, offering his arm to her.
"Flattery will definitely get you what you want." Belle clasped her hand around his arm, a wicked grin on her face.
"That, Miss French, remains to be seen." Rumald banked himself into her, pressing a kiss to her cheek, and inclined back from her, pausing for their gazes to meet, and then led her up to the house.
Unhooking his arm from hers, when they neared the porch steps, Rumald cupped her elbow in his hand and assisted her up the steps, noting the faint sound of music. At the top of the steps, he widened his gait to get to the front door first and pressed the doorbell, and stepped back to bring Belle into his side. She snuggled in closer to him, clutching her gloved hands to her chest, fending off the cold tendrils trying to bite her fingers. Putting his arm around her, he pulled her closer, rubbing his hand up and down her side, encouraging some warmth into her.
A short shadow ran up to the door, obviously Henry, though his identity was masked by the net curtain, covering the two panes of glass in the front door. The shadow bobbed up and down, and then the door opened, letting a rush of warm air out onto the porch. A hint of the warmth kissed Rumald's face as the young boy opened the door, peering his head around the edge of the door with a cheeky smile. Rumald blinked his eyes a few times, struck by a memory of Neal doing the same thing.
"Miss French!" Henry proclaimed, racing out to greet her, throwing his arms around her waist.
Belle stooped to greet him, hugging him with one arm, while glimpsing at Rumald. "Hey, Henry."
"I thought I wasn't going to see you today." He told her, leaning back to look up at her. "Then dad said, you were coming for dinner with Mr Gold."
"Well, clearly, I couldn't turn down the opportunity to spend some time with you." She gushed at the young boy.
"Let's get inside. It's cold out here." Rumald herding the pair towards the front door, which was now occupied by the Sheriff.
"Evening, Belle. Mr Gold." He smiled his usual charming smile at them, stepping aside to allow them into the house.
Her arm around Henry's shoulders, Belle walked Henry back into the house, smiling at the Sheriff. "Thank you for inviting us, Sheriff."
"It's the least we could do." The Sheriff titled his head graciously to her. "And its David, seeing as this is a family dinner."
"Thank you, David." She reaffirmed.
"Sheriff." Rumald said in greetings as he crossed the threshold into their lair.
"Rumald." The Sheriff returned and closed the door after Rumald.
Clamping down on his instinct to jump, Rumald craftily turned to glimpse at the closed door, now trapped inside the Nolan's home. A tap to his chest brought him back round to Belle, who was removing her coat and motioned for him to do the same. Following her actions, Rumald peeled back his overcoat and shrugged himself out of one sleeve, before drawing his arm out of the sleeve, holding his coat by the collar.
"I'll take those from you." The Sheriff apprised them. "Care for a drink?"
"Glass of white wine, if you have any." Belle said, laying her coat over the Sheriff's offered forearm.
Giving his coat to the Sheriff, Rumald looked to the front door from the corner of his eye, saying. "Whiskey, if you have any."
"I'm sure, there's some somewhere." The Sheriff smiled and left.
"Oh," Belle dug into her handbag and pulled out the bottle of wine she had bought. "Henry, can you go and give this to your grandpa or grandma?"
"Sure!" The young boy grabbed the bottle of red wine and rushed off, trailing after his grandfather.
Rumald moved closer to Belle, placing his hand on her lower back, which caused her to turn her head to look at him, as he said in a low voice. "I feel like I've accidentally walked into a viper's den."
She turned into him, smoothing a hand down the front of his chest. "I'm right here with you. We'll face this together."
Staggering a step forward, bumping into her, he could feel himself unravelling in front of her. The impulse to grovel at her feet, pulled at his hands, luring him down onto his knees. Inside, he could feel the rumbling a storm stirring within his chest, threatening to lash a downpour down his cheeks, whilst Belle steadied him, concern etched deeply into her face. He attempted to swallow down the lump in his throat. Opening his mouth to let the truth tumble from him, his voice was gagged by the lump and all he could managed was a stuttering 'I' at her.
"Dad!" Neal shouted at the end of the foyer, appearing from where the Sheriff had gone, Henry tucked into his side with his father's hand on his shoulder.
Rumald sucked in a deep breath and stepped back, putting a small space between him and Belle, and lifted his gaze to his son. "Neal."
"We were starting to think you weren't coming." Neal squeezed Henry's shoulder. "Weren't we, buddy?"
"And miss dining with the Nolan's? How could I refuse?" He said dryly, avoiding the questioning look Belle was giving him.
"Not that it took the whole of breakfast to convince you." Belle mumbled, so only he could hear her, whilst she pivoted to face Neal and Henry.
"Dinner shouldn't be much longer. Mary-Margaret's been slaving over it since she came home." Neal informed them.
Henry titled his head back to look at his father. "Can I show Miss French my book?"
Neal smiled and nodded his head. "Sure, buddy."
Waving his hand for Belle to come with him, Henry bolted into the living room, his feet pounding on the wooden floor. Intrigued, Belle inclined herself slightly forward, taking the few steps to see Henry in the living room, a bemused look on her face. Advancing the same few steps, Rumald glimpsed into the living room before looking to his son. Neal scratched at the back of his head, smiling at his father, gestured for them to come into the living room and followed after his son. Without looking at Rumald, Belle went into the living room and Rumald felt he no choice, but to tag along after her and leave the safety of the foyer.
Edging slowly forward, wary he was on enemy territory, Rumald crossed into the living room from the foyer, his eyes roamed the walls covered in pictures – family vacations, anniversaries, birthday parties, random moment frozen in time. The room felt cosy, warm, the heart of their family home, the polar opposite to how his own was at home. Their house was light, bright and welcoming, friendly even, whereas Rumald's was dark, cold and felt more like a museum than a family home. Although, lately, with Neal and Belle, both spending more time at his house, the house seemed to feel much happier with the two of them around. Or that could be more Rumald was feeling happier with the two of them being around more.
Rumald walked the perimeter of the living room, aware of Belle and Henry sat on one of the couch, Henry excitedly chatting to Belle, about the book Neal had gotten him, while Rumald twiddled his silver ring on his finger, working it back and forth along the length of his finger. Sidling up to the front window, looking out onto the dark evening outside, he cursed himself. Nobody had pushed himself into this position. Cora had not made him do this. Like he had already surmised, she was using her knowledge of him against him and that is exactly, what he would do against her or anyone else. Which is what made him feel worse, made the guilt and the remorse for his actions, so depressing. He dropped his gaze down to his ring, twisting the silver band more viciously, recognising he was a man who made terrible choices and never learnt.