Sat on the small cot in his cell, legs stretched out, crossed at his ankles, Rumald had his arms crossed over his chest, staring blankly through the bars of his cell at the empty desks. Emma had been grinning, ear to ear, during the drive from his house to the Sheriff's office. Parking out front, people had stopped and stared as she had hauled him out of the back of her patrol car and paraded him up the sidewalk, making sure everyone saw him handcuffed. He had not missed the glee on their faces. It would be the talk of the town for months – Did you see Mr Gold in handcuffs? I saw him in the back of the patrol car. It's about time someone put him in his place. People would regale the story, like Emma had slayed the ferocious dragon, who had been plaguing the town, terrorising the townsfolk. He did not care what they said. They could say whatever they liked, for he knew it would be short lived.
Distantly, he could hear voices and footsteps. Emma had disappeared soon after putting him in the cell, shutting herself into her father's office, answering the phone that had been ringing when they had arrived. It had not been long before it rang again, and then again, and again, until the office door had clattered open and Emma had growled something under her breath. She had stomped out of the office and down the corridor to the back of the station. Whatever had annoyed her, had taken her away for a while, but it sounded like she was coming back.
"For Christ's sake, Neal, I'm just following the evidence." Her bodiless voice grumbled.
Rumald moved his gaze to the threshold of the corridor, watching as Emma strolled out of it, her boots clunking on the linoleum floor. "Because it's a current investigation and I'm not supposed to discuss it with anyone."
"Look," She stopped in the middle of the squad room. "This is police business. I can't be your girlfriend right now. If you want to discuss this, when I get off shift, we'll talk about it then. But right now, I've got a load of paperwork to do, I've got to book your father into the system and interview him."
Her blue eyes looked to him in the cell, then were diverted out of the window. "Yes, okay. I love you too. Bye."
As she lowered the phone from her ear, Emma breathed out heavily and shoved her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. Brushing a hand over her blonde hair, she stood still with her hand posed on top of her head, holding back some of her hair, and stared off for a second, gathering her thoughts, before she jumped into action grabbing a file off a nearby desk. Rumald sat there, silently watching, as she negotiated the empty desks and went into her father's office, closing the door behind her. Though the door was shut, he could hear the distinct sound of her father's chair creaking as she sat down into it and wheeled herself closer to the desk. Hear her moving papers, tapping the keyboard, opening and closing drawers. After a while of listening to this, Rumald closed his eyes and rested his head back against the cinder block wall.
Belle was instantly in his mind's eye, stood on the porch, where they had left her. During the short drive to the station, he had accepted it was over between them. He could clearly picture her, sorting through his things, collecting together what belonged to her, returning the things he had given her that she could not stand to keep. Building a pile of them on his bed, leaving them where he was sure to find them. He refused to shed a tear. Not because he did not feel heartbroken, or was not overwhelmed with his guilt, but because he was grateful for the time she had given him. She had loved him more fiercely than anyone had in his life. Two months of happiness with her was worth more than a lifetime with anyone else. It would take time, but Rumald knew he would accept the outcome of his actions, it was whether he could learn to live without her. It was suffocating already and he had not even had to face the cruel truth of the items left on the bed, the emptiness of his home, the disappointment in her gaze when she saw him in the street.
He was not sure if he wanted to live his life without her.
The loud clunk resonating through the bars woke him. Controlling his reaction, Rumald remained still and simply opened his eyes, finding Emma stood on the other side of them.
"Interview time." She smiled, then gestured for him to come to the bars. "Come on, you know the drill, I've got to put the cuffs back on you."
He unfolded his arms as he uncrossed his legs and swung them over the edge of the bed before he pushed himself up, paused to tug down his waistcoat underneath his suit jacket, and held out his hands to her as he approached the bars. "Would it be too much trouble to get a cup of tea? Or coffee?"
"I'll get you one, once I've got you in the interview room." She told him, while grabbing one of his wrists to secure in the cuffs and then the other.
"Thank you, Deputy Nolan." Rumald pulled back his hands once they were cuffed and waited for her to unlock the cell.
Her brow twitched at him before she snickered at him. "You don't have to be so formal, Gold."
The cell door clunked, when the lock reseeded, and the hinges let out a small squeak as she swung it open, holding it open for him, as he said, stepping out of the cell. "Given the circumstances. I'd rather keep things formal."
"Suit yourself." Emma said, hooking his left elbow, and hauled him through the bullpen, directing him to take the turn into the corridor and then into the first open doorway.
The interview room was painted the same colour as the rest of the station, greyish blue. It had been the same colour for as long as Rumald could remember. A metal table, screwed to the floor, along with the single metal chair in the room. Opposite this metal chair, on the other side of the table, was a black cushioned chair. Its partner sat in the corner of the room, showing half the use, its twin positioned by the table showed. Taking in the room, it was not the first time he had been in there and it definitely was not going to be the last time he was there.
"Sit down." She instructed as she pushed him to the right side of the table, towards the metal chair. "Hands on the table."
Rumald sat down and laid his forearms onto the table, not the first time either, and waited for Emma to secure him to the metal loop, bolted to his side of the table. Leaning over him, she unlocked the handcuff on his left wrist, passed it through the loop and snapped it back around his wrist. It was obvious he was secure, but she tugged his arm, smiling at the pleasant chink of his cuffs hitting the metal loop.
Emma began to head out of the open doorway, saying over her shoulder. "Be right back."
"I'm not going anywhere." He said dryly, emphasising his point with a hard tug on his cuffs, chinking the joining chain into the metal loop again.
In the large two-way mirror, Rumald caught sight of his reflection and drooped his weight forward onto his forearms. He looked just like he had done before he left his bedroom that morning. Except he could see the sadness, the regret, he harboured in his eyes. Bad choices were the story of his life. The things he had done as a teenager – beating people, stealing things, arson, kidnapping people. All the things he had done to get ahead in the game, so he could better provide for his Aunts. Falling in with the wrong crowd. Getting Milah pregnant, even if the outcome had been the best thing to ever happen to him. Letting old habits slip into their life here in Storybrooke. Falling in love with Cora. And here he was, handcuffed to a table, with more bad choices under his belt.
He only had himself to blame.
"Here you go." Emma came into the room and placed a paper cup down in front of him, filled with streaming brown liquid that smelled more like gravy stock than coffee.
She sat down onto the other side, a stack of folders in front of her, one rather large file sat at the bottom, while she put a large takeaway cup down on her side, Granny's logo etched into the side of it. As Emma closed the door, Rumald glared from her takeaway cup to the paper cup she had put down in front of him. Flitting to the other side of the room, she pulled a fresh cassette tape out of her back pocket, unwrapped the cellophane, leaving it crumpled on top of the recorder, and fed the new tape into one of the decks. There was a series of clicks as she shut the deck, reset the counter and pressed down on the record button.
"The date is twenty-sixth of December, twenty-twenty, and the time on my watch is…" She pulled back her shirt sleeve. "Ten-fifty-five am."
Emma moved to take the plush chair on the other side of the table, stating for the tape. "I'm Deputy Emma Nolan and the interview is being carried out in Storybrooke's Sheriff station." She slipped the thicker folder out from the bottom of the stack and opened it out on top of the other files. "Please state your full name and date of birth for the tape."
"Rumald Callum Gold. Eighth of April, nineteen-seventy-one." He stated less than enthusiastically.
"You don't have to say anything, Mr Gold, but it may harm your defence, if you do not mention, when questioned, something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say during this interview, may be given in evidence. Do you understand?" She asked, flicking up the first page of the thick file, showing to him it was his file she was reading.
"I do."
Emma dropped the front page of his file and asked, looking directly at him. "You've got a very impressive rap sheet. Several charges of assault and disorderly conduct, when you were a teenager, which got you put into detention and released early due to good behaviour. Numerous grievous bodily harm charges." She turned over the first page of his file. "Breaking and entering. Larceny. Vandalism. Arson. All of which," She lifted her gaze to him. "were dismissed."
Bored, Rumald sat back in the uncomfortable chair, causing the chain to chink with the movement. The muscles around Emma's left eye flexed. She turned to the next page in his file and casted her eye over it, while he let his gaze fall to where his hands were bound to the table. What he would not give for a paperclip or a hair pin… At least then, he could entertain himself.
"You've been questioned before on suspicion of assault, Mr Gold. It's been logged in your file, several times over the past decade, along with blackmail and threatening behaviour." Emma stated to him, eyeing him for a reaction. "Do you not have anything to say, Mr Gold?"
Raising his gaze to meet with hers, he gave her a short, simple answer to her question. "No."
Flicking the pages back over and closing his file, Emma tossed his file to the side, slapping it down onto the metal table, and flipped the cover open on the next file. "These images were taken from the CCTV footage recorded at the town hall." She turned her head to talk to the tape. "I am showing the suspect evidence marked 'A1' through to 'A6'." Then slid the stack of photographs towards him, twirling them round to face him. "Do you recognise the person in these images, Mr Gold?"
Awkwardly, with his hands cuffed, he gathered the photos into his left hand and went through the images, telling her when he got to the end of them. "Yes, I recognise the person in these images."
"And who is it?" She asked with a brief smile.
"Me – Rumald Callum Gold." He stated clearly for her tape.
"The first two images, 'A1' and 'A2', are of you approaching the main door of the town hall and entering the building. Do you agree?" Emma questioned, relaxing back into her chair.
"I do agree." He coolly answered, laying the images onto the table, but at the angle he set them down they spilled across the table.
She sat forward and spaced them out on the table, presenting them to him. "'A3' and 'A4' show you entering the Mayor's office at quarter to nine on Tuesday the twenty-second of December. From the images," Emma pointed to both pictures. "You don't look very happy, which is evident on the footage, by you shoving open the Mayor's office door."
"I can't comment on something I haven't seen and it's not evident to me what kind of mood I was in, from these images you've presented to me." Rumald commented, giving the images she indicated a brief once over.
Her right hand moved to the image marked 'A5', then to 'A6'. "In these images, you leave the Mayor's office approximately ten minutes after arriving. Except as you leave, you're not wearing the gloves, you were wearing when you arrived. Could you elaborate as to why you removed them?"
"I'm unable to recall the reason as to why I removed them." He said casually, appearing indifferent.
Emma tapped the photo marked 'A6'. "Five minutes after you left the town hall, the Mayor's secretary called the General Hospital, requesting a doctor to attend. Do you not think it's too much of a coincidence that the Mayor fell literally minutes after you left his office?"
Rumald waited a couple of seconds, pretending to consider her question, before he answered it. "Not really."
"Where are these gloves now, Mr Gold?" She asked, moving her finger to point out his un-gloved hands.
"I couldn't tell you." He told her with a shrug of his shoulders. "I've been forgetting things all week. I could've lost them somewhere, or misplaced them at home… I honestly couldn't tell you."
She looked at him across the table with raised eyebrows. "You want me to believe you've misplaced them?"
"You heard Belle the other night, when you were at my house for dinner, telling everyone how she would remind me to get Henry's straws, because I kept forgetting things, like to get a bottle of milk." He reminded her of Christmas Eve.
"A bottle of milk is one thing, Mr Gold, a pair of gloves that could implicate you for an assault charge is something else." Emma picked up the photographs, piled them together, straightened them with a loud thunk on the table and put them into the open file they had come out of earlier.
Leaning forward, the chain of his cuffs chinked as Rumald asked. "Have you found them?"
Her eyes went wide before she quickly blinked away her alarmed. "I'm not at liberty to say."
"Damn…" He sat back into the hard chair. "Guess I'll have to get a new pair and break them in again."
"After leaving the town hall, where did you go, Mr Gold?" She inquired, hastily moving their conversation along.
He smiled. "I went back to my shop and stayed there for most of the day, then left about eight o'clock to meet Belle at the dance studio."
Emma pulled a pen out of the breast pocket of her shirt, whilst she slid the thin file with the images to one side and opened the folder that had been beneath it, and made a note into it. "Is there anyone that can verify that you went back to your shop?"
"Yes."
Her scribbling echoed through the metal table. "Who?"
"Belle French."
The pen stopped mid loop and her blue eyes looked at him. "Really?"
"She fancied an early lunch." Rumald grinned at her, giving her an innocent shrug of his left shoulder.
"I'll have to question Belle to verify your story." She told him as though she thought he would not want her talking to Belle.
"Be my guest. Oh and Deputy Nolan," He hunched forward, pulling on his cuffs to chink them on purpose. "If you happen to find my gloves, I'll be eternally grateful."
Her lips pressed into a thin line as Emma stared across at him, the notion if looks could kill came to mind. Lowering her gaze, she finished writing whatever it was she wanted to note and closed the file with a firm thud into the metal table. She raised her wrist and pulled back her sleeve, reading out the time for the recording as she got up and stopped the recording. In silence, they went back to his cell, where she locked him up again and removed the cuffs, avoiding eye contact with him. She knew that he knew, she had nothing on him. It was circumstantial. Even if she had the gloves, she would have to prove they had been contaminated at the crime scene. Yet as Rumald sat down onto the small cot, observing Emma through the bars, he knew her case against him would never get that far.
Sometime later, he was laying on his back with his arms folded underneath his head, like a pillow, eyes closed to the dirty dull white ceiling above him. His ears twitched, hearing someone yell Emma's name. It came again, clearer this time, growing nearer. He opened his eyes when he heard the door to the Sheriff's office open. Raising his head off his arms, enough so he could see, Emma came out of her father's office to greet whoever it was shouting her name.
"Emma!" Regina shrieked at her niece. "What the hell are you doing!"
"What do you mean, what am I doing? I'm doing my job!" She threw back at Regina, throwing a random hand into the air.
Regina's heels clicked and clacked with purpose as she came out of the corridor and into the large room, casting her critical eye over the empty desks and around the room until she zeroed in on him in the cell. There was a quieter set of clicks coming down the corridor and they stopped behind Regina. Rumald shot up from the cot and clung to the bars of his cell, pressing his face between the bars, desperate to talk to Belle. She turned her gaze to him and the faintest of smiles appeared on her face. Was there still hope?
"What's Gold doing in there?" Regina questioned.
Emma looked at him before she said, turning her gaze back to her aunt. "I've got some questions for him." Then her head canted to the left, looking past Regina at Belle. "Actually, I've got some questions for Belle too."
Belle looked startled as she whipped her attention to Emma. "For me?"
"Just some fact checking." She stepped aside from the doorway and waved an invitation for Belle to come into the office. "It'll only take a minute." And smiled warmly at her.
His grip tightened on the bars. Rumald wanted to call out to her, tell her everything was alright, but he knew Emma could use it against him. Twist it to mean he was influencing a witness. He had no choice, but to meet her gaze when she glanced at him. The reassuring smile he gave did not feel adequate as she moved around Regina and entered the office with Emma following her inside. The door closed with a definite click. Regina shot off the starting line, clicking and clacking like a typewriter, trotting quickly across the bullpen towards him.
"What have you done now!" She demanded, abruptly stopping on the other side of the bars.
"Nothing!" He hissed in a low voice.
Regina tilted her head forward, giving him a pointed look, arching one of her finely plucked eyebrows at him. "I'm not stupid, Rumald." Then said in a lower voice. "Why did you break the Mayor's nose!"
Eyeing her, he came clean with her. "Your mother."
"My mother?" She balked at his reply.
"Yes, your mother." Rumald peered past her, checking Emma had not come out of the office. "She's been using the Mayor to do some of her dirty work."
"So, you broke his nose over it?" She begged him for an explanation.
He hunched himself into the bars, getting as close as he could to Regina before he said. "Your exhibition – She got the Mayor to cancel your booking."
"What?" Regina frowned at him, but in her eyes he could see she believed him.
Feeding his hand through the bars, he pointed in the general direction of the town hall. "Cora's got herself appointed as the town's treasurer and was going to close down the library, putting Belle out of a job."
"Oh…" She smiled the devilish smile, she had sadly inherited from her mother. "That's why you broke his nose."
"She was going to get Neal fired and kick him out of his apartment, but he ruined her plans by quitting his job and is moving back." Rumald told her with a small shrug of his shoulders.
Deep lines ploughed themselves into her forehead as she slightly turned her head, squinting her gaze at him, as she inquired. "Why would she do all of this? I mean," Her gaze went up to the ceiling, while she contemplated her mother's reasons. "She's been trying to weasel her way into the studio for years. She probably thinks, if the exhibition fails that I'd beg her for her help. But…" She scowled at him. "Why Neal and Belle?"
Annoyed with himself, he clenched at the bars and shook them, remembering the evening in New York he had seen Cora. "She was blackmailing me to be her dance partner again."
"Really?" Her fine eyebrows pushed up her brow. "Huh… Didn't expect that." Regina confessed.
"I didn't expect any of this. I thought we were done." He told her, then admitted to her. "She wanted me to leave Belle too."
"Oh… You're not, are you?" Regina sounded disgusted with the prospect.
Glowering at her, Rumald snapped at her. "No!"
A look of relief passed over her face as she breathed out. "Good. I'm glad, because I hope that ship has sailed, burnt and sunk into the deepest, darkest part of the ocean, and been crushed into dust."
"Believe me, the only future I'm interested in, is one with Belle." He reassured her, grimacing at the thought of sharing his life with Cora again.
"Good. Oh, by the way," Regina reached through the bars, grabbed his tie and yanked him forward, butting his head into the bars with a hard thud. "You stupid man!"
Dazed, he clung to the bars as he got his bearings. "What the hell!"
She skirted closer to the bars and fumed in a lowered voice at him. "You should've told me! I could've helped! Hell, you could've at least told Belle." Regina half turned, flinging her hand wildly behind her to the office at the other end of the room. "She's been worried about you!"
"I know." He avoided her gaze, ashamed, as he rubbed at his forehead.
"Are you going to get away with this? Do you want me to call Dove? A lawyer?" She quickly asked him, both of them looking at the office, hearing chairs moving inside.
"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." Rumald assured as the office door creaked open.
Belle was the first one out of the office, wringing her fingers, looking uncomfortable with whatever they had been discussing in the office. The look she gave him made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Squinting his gaze at her, his top lip twitched with a snarl, perceiving Emma had told her something unsavoury. Regina saw it as well, giving Rumald a questioning look.
"Thank you so much, Belle. You've been very helpful." Emma declared as she came out of the office, looking rather pleased with herself.
"Yeah… Right…" Belle awkwardly glanced at him before she said. "I'm just going…" And dashed out of the room, covering her mouth, appearing teary.
Desperate to go after her, Rumald jerked on the door of the cell, while his heart ripped itself out of his chest and went after her on its own. Regina did not waste any time and hurried after Belle, giving her niece a seething look as she past her. Emma crossed her arms, perching her shoulder against the feeble wall of her father's office.
"What did you say to Belle?" He growled at her.
"I didn't say anything to her." Emma rolled her head to look at him. "Though, while I was asking her some questions, your file fell open and…" She sucked in a breath through her teeth. "She got a good look at your rap sheet."
Rumald shook the bars, rattling the door of his cell on its hinges. "That's slanderous!"
"Purely an accident, Gold. Anyway, doesn't she have a right to know about your past?" She put to him, gesturing in the direction Belle had bolted.
Tightening his grip on the bars, he glared at Emma as he asked. "Is this how you repay me for helping you with my son?"
Her eyes narrowed a little at him. "I don't owe you anything."
Rumald just stood there, holding her gaze. Rolling her eyes at him, she turned to go into the office, pushing the door to behind her, causing the blind to clatter against the glass. His hands slipped off the bars and swung down to his sides, while his eyes wandered to the entrance of the corridor, wishing Belle would come back so he could explain. Tell her about being abandoned, the rough neighbourhood he grew up in, how hard it was for his aunts to put food on the table. That he had no choice, but to do those jobs, earning pittance for them while his reputation for getting the job done, no matter what, spread. Sadly, the discipline and determination he learnt from ballroom, the strength he developed from dancing, had served him well in that life. Bowing his head in regret, Rumald sat down onto the cot and braced his elbows onto his knees, bending forward to stare at the grey floor. He could not do any more now, than accept the fact that this was final nail in the coffin for them. Belle would not come back after finding out about his past, never mind all the recent things he had been doing.