I do not own any part of Once Upon a time.

Chapter 5 More than a Monster

When Mr. Gold had stated that the library was his refuge, Belle had no idea just how much time he must spend there. It took her only two days to finish David Copperfield, with the second day being Saturday and giving her extra time to finish the tale. She had become emotionally invested in young Davy's life and enjoyed the journey, however bittersweet it was. With a heavy, contented sigh, she walked down to where the library was, happy that she finally seemed to be gaining her barings in the Dark Manor. The door was open, as many of the doors were that were frequently used, now that spring had finally arrived. She walked in and was stopped short by the scene in front of her.

Mr. Gold was sitting comfortably in an oversized chair, little Bae on his good knee, his small limbs draped over his bad one. The boy was giggling as his father told him a tall tale of some sort. Mr. Gold's features were so soft, so warm, she could feel the warmth from where she stood.

Belle felt like she was invading something private, something so personal, that she began to turn silently before a loud, 'Miss French!' made her stop and turn towards them once more.

Mr. Gold had instantly gone back to his regular demeanor and she inwardly wept at the loss of warmth that her presence had stolen.

'Have you come to listen to a story, Miss French? Papa is telling a funny one, it's about.' And the boy went into great detail of the story, Mr. Gold began looking continually more uncomfortable. When little Bae had finally finished, Mr. Gold looked critically at the book in Belle's hand.

'You didn't like the book.' It wasn't a question, and was there a tinge of disappointment to the cold statement?

'It was a wonderful book, sir. I don't know if it has taken the place of Great Expectations as most liked of his works thus far, but I am very eager to explore the others he has written.'

'You've finished already?' His voice in obvious awe.

'I couldn't put it down.' She smiled. 'However, I didn't mean to disturb you, excuse me.'

Before she could make it out of the library, Mary walked in with a tea tray. She eyed Belle with bright curiosity, but set out the tea quietly.

'Sandwiches?' Bae looked at the tray brought in with slight disappointment.

'I do believe Mrs. Lucas still has a few cookies that the little Master did not devour yesterday after school, if your father is amenable to it that is.' Mary didn't look up from the tray-in fact she hadn't looked at Mr. Gold since she entered- her face and voice were tight with nerves, even though her voice had also been soft.

Mr. Gold paid no attention to her lack of eye contact and simply smiled at Bae and told him to 'Run along then', then turned to face her and his voice seemed a little nervous.

'Would you take tea with me, Miss French?'

This surprised Belle, since she was worried that she had been an unwelcome observer the entire time.

'I would like to very much, thank you sir.' She replied, hoping it covered her shock. Mary's shock was less veiled and while she avoided Mr. Gold, she looked up wide-eyed at Belle, and in return, Belle smiled softly and took a seat across from Mr. Gold.

Mary's job being done, she left to follow Bae back into the kitchens.

'So you enjoyed David Copperfield?' He ventured.

She had told him she had before, but she imagined he was desperately trying to search for a topic of interest, since most of their other more amiable interactions involved the ever friendly little Bae as a buffer. Books were something they both enjoyed, she could see that, so she ignored the repetitiveness of the question and replied with greater detail,

'Yes, it was very good. Bittersweet, really. Mr. Dickens had much to say about how things are done in our present times, and not very pleasant things. I can't blame him though. I was terrified of being sent to a workhouse, and I am eighteen-to think of children being sent there, in those conditions…' Belle shuddered as she remembered the story and how much she had feared her own fate when her father's health had begun to really deteriorate and she realized the state of their finances.

'You might have been sent to a workhouse?' Mr. Gold's tone seemed surprised and a bit nervous still.

'Father was a good clergyman and it wasn't just a profession for him. True he was the third son and had to make his way in the world, but he truly believed in what he preached on Sundays. He was also a good father-well loved by all, and he loved my mother and myself very much. However, he.' Belle hesitated. Speaking of money was crude, but the subject had been broached-even if it had been she herself who had broached it. He didn't seem offended yet, so she continued. 'He was terrible with money, I'm afraid. Before the death of my mother, she played a great part in keeping us from complete despondency. After her death, some ill-intended acquaintances of my father persuaded him to take part in a risky venture that you can imagine did not give the returns he was promised. In fact, when my father died I found things were even worse than I thought.' Speaking of her father in terms of the past, and in terms of the well intended, but terrible choices that he made-the worried reality that she thought might be hers if she hadn't been offered the position, caused Belle to tremble, and she grabbed the shaking tea cup with her other hand to keep it from sloshing tea on her dress. She grabbed it too forcefully and the cup slipped out of her hand.

'I'm sorry, Mr. Gold. I'm afraid I chipped your teacup.' She had picked up the cup, and worried over the small chip on its side. Instead of sloshing all over her dress, the liquid had spilled on the hard floors. Mr. Gold pulled out his handkerchief, leaned over and wiped up the liquid and then looked up with something like compassion in his eye, projecting some of the warmth she had seen earlier as he told the story to his son.

'It's alright, Miss French-it's but a simple cup.'

He poured her another cup, and to her surprise, his features remained soft, so much it caused her to blurt out as if to assure him.

'I don't think anything truly terrible would have happened, as I don't think Mr. Jeffery would have let that happen. I just didn't want to be a burden to anyone, and when Mr. Jeffery told me he had found a position. Well, I-I am quite glad to be here, sir.' She smiled softly, but Mr. Gold's countenance had turned serious.

'Even working for a monster is to be preferred, I suppose.' He almost whispered.

'You are no monster, sir.' She said in equal quietness, though the stillness of the library assured her that he had indeed heard her.

He raised his head and looked at her then. His forehead wrinkled in confusion and almost hurt.

'I told you I do not allow for lies and flattery, Miss French. The only people who willingly look at me, are those that it would cost too dear for them to do otherwise, or my son. I know I frighten even those who work for me. You could clearly see that Mary would not even look at me, and she has worked here for the past two years.'

Belle set her tea cup down carefully, and set her hands firmly in her lap, looking solidly and intently at the man before her. She looked at someone so broken that his scars were deeper than just what she could see with her eyes.

'Do you truly think I am frightened of you, sir?'

He started at her frankness and almost chuckled out an, 'No, perhaps you are not.'

'Can I look at you, without being frightened off?'

His look was grave yet his face tilted in questioning now.

'Obviously, Miss French.'

'Then rest assured, sir, I am using neither flattery, nor telling lies when I tell you that I see no monster in front of me now.'

The air was still and suffocating and Mr. Gold could no longer hold her gaze. She felt the tension too keenly and stood up suddenly.

'I must go study for next week's lesson's sir, if you'll excuse me.'

Only a moment later, she realized she had left without getting a new book. She sighed and kept going, not ready to see his face again.

Something changed after the tea in the library. Mr. Gold was not as wintry as he was before. Spring was dawning at Dark Manor yet not only there, but in the Master himself. He would tighten a small smile if either happened upon each other in the library, with him giving her some sort of recommendation and perhaps her sharing an opinion she had over a book they had both read before. And as the days grew continually warmer, she and Bae were often joined by him in the garden.

'Tell me about your travels again, Papa.' Bae had run until his little legs gave out and had planted himself on the ground in front of where Mr. Gold sat, his head resting on Mr. Gold's good knee.

'Did you travel much, Mr. Gold?' It shouldn't surprise Belle, she supposed. Whatever had happened to him, had happened when Belle was a small girl, and for some reason imagining her employer different from what he was now-a young man traveling the world burdens and cares nonexistent-seemed impossible. But he was young once-not that he was terribly old now-and must have enjoyed the pleasures great wealth could supply.

'I did, Miss French, once upon a time. I stayed in Europe, as I'm a bit of a homebody. Well.' he chuckled, but more good humoredly than the hurt she had sometimes heard when contemplating his current reality. 'Perhaps a little more so now than then, but I never liked to go very far. My uh-well, let's just say I didn't really travel for my own pleasure, but someone else's. Have you traveled any, Miss French?'

'Not at all, I'm afraid. I've never even been outside the parish.' She smiled wistfully. To travel was one of her greatest wishes in life, but books were as close as she got to traveling.

'I haven't been very far either.' Bae made his lips into a pout for half a second before brightening. 'But Papa tells me about his travels, and as soon as I am old enough, I plan to travel to every single place he's been.'

Mr. Gold's face distorted into something painful at his words. She often wondered at his feelings with keeping Bae there so secluded. And if she was already dreading the thought of Bae going off to school, reveling in the companionship of boys his own age, and going to places and doing things he had never done before, leaving her to drift in hopes of meeting equally pleasant shores, how much then must his father feel, when Bae seemed his only source of light.

For this moment, however, with Mr. Gold regaling tales of rocky crags, and cascading mountains, Bae was yet to turn seven, and they had a whole year before both Belle and the boy's father would be set back out on the seeming dark seas of their future existences.

Author's Note:

This chapter may feel like fluff, but there is drama coming up on the horizon, and this chapter is the character development that's needed to get there (as always, I hope it is, anyway).
Sometimes I worry over the 'rules' of Victorian social cues, but then I remember how Mr. Rochester spoke to Jane and I realize that I haven't even gone that far yet ;) However, if you see me going too far out there, I do take constructive criticism as well as the happy comments!
And with that, I appreciate the feedback so far, and love to hear what you have to say!