I do not Own Once upon a Time

Chapter 3 The Cover of Darkness

'Alright little sir, can you show me how many letters you recognize here and tell me what sounds they make?'

She smiled down at her charge as he wriggled in his seat. Though his interest in what they were learning was minimal, she saw a great desire in him to impress her. His bright brown eyes danced with every letter he discovered, and he made great attempts in sounding out the letters. Each one missed sent a groan and sometimes a small bit of visible frustration that she gently encouraged that he reign in.

'It is a great man who has power under control. You will have great strength one day, and if not checked, your temper can hurt yourself or others, do you understand?'

He gently nodded his head and then hung it in shame. She gave him a gentle smile, showing him that she bore him no ill will, in fact, inwardly she was leaping for joy that he seemed teachable. He could have stomped his little foot and insisted that he was her better and therefore could do whatever he pleased. He could have said it and insisted to his father that she had overstepped her bounds, and she would be in a fair bit of trouble-perhaps even lose her position. No, the little boy remained eager to please, and any measure of kindness she gave was received with grateful smiles and shining eyes.

The day and even the week went on in similar fashion. She discovered that when motivated, her student was a quick learner, and by the end of the week, he was sounding out simple sentences and putting together simple sums. His penmanship was still highly lacking, but she attempted to help his frustrations in the imperfections of his script, by letting him make sketches around his attempts, even the failed ones, as she learned he had an enjoyment of drawing. His frustration turned to giggles as he found as many things starting in the letter to sketch.

'Since it is Friday, I thought I would share with you one of my favorite stories as a child. The book was my mother's and she read it to me often and I brought it with me here. I think you'll like it-it's called Gulliver's Travels and the hero travels to different lands-would you like to listen to me read it to you?'

His smile was all she needed to begin, and she opened the dilapidating copy she had brought with her. His face seemed to hang on every word she spoke, as he clearly was journeying with her to Lilliput. It was what she enjoyed most about stories-their ability to take one out of the boundaries of reality and experience life outside of what was expected. So entranced were they, that they didn't hear the thump, step coming down the hall, until the one belonging to the sound hung in the doorway.

'Papa!'

The little boy bounded towards the figure leaning on his cane. Belle had seen the man in the shadows, and the man in candlelight, but now with the morning sun just leaving the eastern windows,she expected that he would now be fully exposed. It was not to be. He played with shadows like a magic wielding fiend, and any darkness in the room seemed to gravitate to the very place he was standing.

He was standing now, and she could now see what was considered his 'deformity' to the wagging tongues of her small perish, but rumors they could be, for no one seeing the truth before them could consider it so.

'Miss French is reading to me a wonderful tale, Papa, would you like to hear about it?'

'Perhaps later-I'd rather you bring me what you've been studying this week. Can you do that for me?'

Unfettered by the frank words, as they were bathed in a fatherly warmth Belle had never heard from the man, Little Bae skipped towards the area they had been studying and Belle helped him gather the papers she had tied together to show her employer, so that he might analyze his son's progress. She worried that his penmanship would be considered too poor-though the child was young, and she knew that there were so many things they had worked on that could not be shown by paper. Would it be enough? She hardly knew what she hoped or expected as a reaction. If he had one, would she even see it? His body was still cast in the shadow of the door frame, so she could make neither heads nor tails of his thoughts or feelings. He had not moved from his spot to even a more comfortable one, and she wondered if it pained him to stand or walk. She wanted to offer a seat to him, but feared offending him at the same time. She fidgeted with her hands while waiting for the verdict.

She heard a soft and low 'you did well son', and little Bae smiled proudly at his father, and that was all. Her papers were returned to her, and she believed he nodded to her, though she wasn't sure, and heard a curt muttering of 'I believe it will suffice' before he left her, allowing his son to trail behind as an additional shadow.

Belle busied herself with tidying the schoolroom, doing her best to keep her own storm of emotions under control. She expected no accolades or warm words, but Mr. Gold appeared to loathe her very presence. Belle was not someone who wallowed in self pity, but she did shed a tear or two of frustration towards the man she couldn't seem to understand. The little she had seen of his figure and face, she understood why he might be apprehensive of exposing himself to others, but it was no excuse for the bitter words he threw out.

She ran her fingers across her face and breathed in deeply. Mr. Gold was a challenge, a mystery. She had grown up in a quiet parish where nothing interesting ever happened, and she only found puzzles and adventure in her books. As frustrating as her employer was, part of what irked her was the sheer mystery of the man. Mrs. Lucas was tactless and blunt, but Belle had easily discovered that she was also honest and well intended. She treated everyone with equal frankness, and to the young Mr. Gold, she had a gentle look and a soft chuckle for his antics. Little Bae obviously adored her, though he seemed to be warm and friendly to everyone. He was the darling of Dark Manor and stood as a stark contrast to his father. The rest of Dark Manor proved half an adventure, since she was unwelcome enough still to receive no gossip save the tidbits Mrs. Lucas gave though she spouted them as gospel truth.

At the end of that day, with her job done and her face freshened for dinner, she knew she was lonely more than anything. She was no great conversationalist, she knew. She had groaned inwardly as a young child when she was made to sit in the parlor on stiff, embroidered couches when guests came to call. She had always been the dutiful daughter, then, but now how much she would give and be thankful to have another tête-à-tête with another human. Mrs. Lucas might take tea with her, but the woman hardly took a break from her tasks that she was thankful to get a nod and a passing word.

Belle's stomach knotted in worry when after dinner she had been called to Mr. Gold's study. She hadn't made her lesson plans as of yet, since she had hoped she could present them in similar fashion as the previous week. It was the only reason she could gather for this request now, and she brushed down her heavy skirt and straightened the bodice as she attempted to appear in control of her emotions. Once again the study was bathed in almost darkness, save for a few well placed candles that would guarantee that she would not trip over any obstruction and only see the more pleasant features of his face.

There was one change to the room, and it was Mr. Gold, himself. If she was nervous, then he was anxious. His good hand was fidgeting with a letter opener but his face bolted up to hers when she entered. He had yet to stand on her arrival, but she had since assumed it was for the same reason he leaned heavy on his gold tipped cane, and forgave him promptly.

'Ah, Miss French, there you are.'

Another brush of her skirt before she sat in the chair he motioned to, she spoke before courage fled.

'I apologize but I have not planned out the following week in great detail yet, Mr. Gold. I cannot present to you the lesson plans.'

What little light played on his smoother features seemed surprised by her words.

'What? Oh, no, that is not why I have called you.'

Belle tilted her head. It was silent for a moment before he spoke again.

'Have you found your schoolroom to be satisfactory? Does it have everything you need?'

His voice seemed less sure than it had ever before. It still was tinged in icy coldness but the uncertainty gave her strength.

'It does, thank you. I have found it most satisfactory, and your son is an eager learner.' Belle even tried to smile again. She thought she saw Mr. Gold have some semblance of a smile in return at the mention of his son, but she knew the action might be difficult for him to do. It made him appear even more vulnerable than he ever had before, and she had her first fleeting thought that perhaps the stern manner might be an outflow from simply surface level pain.

'I happened upon a children's reader in the library that I thought it might be of some use, and wanted to see if you would like to put it in the school room? I thought I would share it with you before you began planning your lessons.'

Baffled, Belle nodded and took the book from Mr. Gold with a 'Thank you, sir, I'm sure it will be of great help.'

There proceeded a silence so suffocating that Belle wondered if the lonely candles might be pulling more oxygen than truly necessary. Belle fidgeted with the book in her hands that could have very well been placed in the schoolroom by Mr. Gold himself instead of calling her to his study. Putting that aside, she continued her fidgeting, opening the book and scanning its contents, as well as she could in the darkness. The darkness was pressing as well, and words tumbled out of Belle's mouth before she had time to check them.

'Must it be so dark, Mr. Gold?'

Though she could not see it, she could feel him tensing across from her, as he held in a breath.

'I do prefer it that way, Miss French, and I find that most of my company prefers it as well.'

'But how do you-that is, this is a study, how do you read and work when you can hardly see the words on the page? Excuse me sir, I do not mean to pry.'

She was certain this time of the small chuckle that answered her.

'I am alone most of the time, and I do most of my work during the day. I am not a complete recluse, however, nor am I in constant darkness. Though your questions are impertinent, I do not find them offensive. May I ask you a direct question in return?'

'It is more your right to be direct than mine, sir.'

His mouth was pulled tight again, and Belle seemed content that she had at least not upset him-yet.

'You've seen my features in candlelight and I am aware that it's enough to send maids running, as I have experienced before. Are you not thankful then, that I do not make you suffer by seeing me fully?'

Belle softened a little at the thought of maids scurrying away in fear. What must that do to him to know he was the cause of such actions?

'My constitution is quite strong, I assure you, sir. Is it not said that though man looks outwardly, that God looks inwardly, showing that our character matters more than our appearance?'

The shadows around his face deepened.

'Take a care, Miss French, for I am afraid that the inward man may be no more tolerable to behold than the outward one. Now, if you have no more words of wisdom to impart, you may retire for the evening.'

Another dismissal, another round of dialog that left Belle feeling more confused than she had been when she entered his study. She both wanted to weep for his misfortunes in life, whatever they had been, and gnash her teeth in frustration at a man who seemed to hide himself behind shadows and harsh words and would let no one else see who he really was.

Author's Note: And we still haven't seen Gold! *evil laugh* It's coming though... Do you have any guesses as to what is the matter with Mr. Gold? I've tried to tip toe all the way around it without actually saying.

I also threw in a definite nod to Mr. Rochester from Jane Eyre in the conversation they had :)
I hope you enjoyed it!