"Kindred spirits are not so scarce as I used to think. It's splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world."― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

I do not own Once Upon a Time

Chapter 3 Lonely Souls

'Let me get this straight you've read Treasure Island but not the Chronicles of Narnia because, and I quote, "It's for Children, Miss French."' She used her best Scottish accent to mimic him for the last phrase and he almost spit out his tea.

'I do not dislike young adult classics, as a whole, but I simply tend to take Tolkien's stance on a few things. For instance, that Father Christmas has little to do with a non-earth, magical realm, wouldn't you agree?'

'I personally like Lewis' Father Christmas touch. It's completely appropriate. Aslan speaks often of the bridge between our world and Narnia, and the children know that the arrival of Father Christmas means a weakening of the curse.'

'Humph, if you say so.'

'Well, on that high note.' Belle stood up to leave, all smiles. 'Thank you for tea and lunch, Robert. Also for the book talk. No one ever wants to talk about classic literature with me.'

He brushed it aside as if it was nothing, but internally noting that he hadn't had that much fun in years.

'I'll see you tomorrow?'

'Aye, Miss French-um, Belle'

Belle's first Saturday working for him went smoother than he expected. She flittered around the room the same way she did the town, and he wondered for half a minute whether her working there was such a good idea after all. She was, as she had so aptly put it, a bit of a bull in a china shop, and there was more than one close call. She never did break anything, and left the shop that evening looking and smelling better than it had when she walked in. She even came in that morning bearing a small plant.

'What is that?'

'A plant!'

'Yes, I had surmised as much, but why?'

'Your shop has so many ancient things-very interesting ones, I promise and I love them, but! I felt like the shop needed something new and living.'

'Miss French, Why do I feel like this is another jab at my age. I'm 40, not 80!'

'I didn't mean that, and you know it!' Her eyes laughed at him. 'And don't worry about killing the plant either. It's a succulent plant, so it's almost impossible to kill. I can water it when I come on Saturday, so you don't even have to touch it.'

'If you insist.' And thinking more of the gesture he nodded. 'And thank you.'

They had gotten a good routine going over the next few weeks. Autumn had arrived in Storybrooke and it had unfortunately been an exceptionally wet one. Gold's leg protested daily, and he had never been happier to go back to his empty home and put his leg up for the evening. If it wasn't for his leg, he would almost find the atmosphere 'cozy'. He had built one of the first fires of the season in his library fireplace, he could hear the gentle patter of the rain outside, and he had decided to try Miss French-Belle's suggestion to read some of C. S. Lewis, Father Christmas and all.

Suddenly the doorbell rang and Robert nearly dropped his book. No one ever came to his house unless it was a delivery, and he hadn't ordered anything. Limping quickly to the front door, his mouth gaped as he opened it to a soaked, shivering, Belle French.

'Belle!' He muttered finally, as his senses finally came back. He still couldn't seem to manage actual sentences so she started instead.

'I hate to be a bother, but I was delivering an arrangement a block over and got caught in the rain. Y-your house was the f-first house I t-thought of in this area.' Her teeth chattering finally made him realize what he needed to be doing.

'Right! Come on in, Miss French.' He held the door open for her and it was her mouth's turn to gape in wonder.

'Your house is like your shop.' She giggled. Then sneezed. Then looked down in terror. 'I'm dripping all over your beautiful rugs!'

'No matter, it is easily dried. I, um, have a few things you could change into if you would like?'

'I suppose it would be better than causing such a mess.'

'I was thinking more of your health, but yes, that too.' He smirked at her and she seemed to relax a bit. He directed her to his bathroom and went to grab a t-shirt and some pajama pants he knew had a drawstring. He was almost happy he was on the short side, since whatever he had would swallow Belle-at least it wouldn't drag the floor as well.

'Will this do?' He offered.

'Thank you so much, Yes!'

He left her and went to the kitchen to collect tea things, and scavenge anything that would qualify as actual food. Leftover chicken and veggies would have to do, and he microwaved it in hopes it would be okay.

Belle entered the kitchen rather sheepishly, fidgeting as she was bound to do with her clothes-only they weren't hers, they were his, and he held back a laugh at how ridiculous she looked in them. He wasn't a large man, in fact, most would say he was rather wiry, and yet she looked as if she was swimming in them. Somehow, though, she still looked just as beautiful and he wondered how long it had been since he had decided that she was beautiful no matter what.

'Where would you like me to put this?' She held up her dripping clothes.

'I'll take it to the dryer. I, um, fixed you some tea and heated up a little left over supper for you. Didn't know if you had eaten or not.'

'Not since I left your shop!'

'Belle! You barely had time to eat a tea biscuit, please tell me you ate a big breakfast.'

'To be honest, I didn't have much time for breakfast-I normally don't. Supper is normally the main meal for me.'

'There's supposed to be three main meals, you know that right?'

She shrugged, her eyes not leaving the tiled floor of his kitchen.

'Well, I'm sorry your main event meal will be a bit boring.' trying to lighten the mood, he took the food out of the microwave and set it on the table, then took Belle's clothes in trade.

'No, This is wonderful, Thank you.' She tucked her damp curls behind her ear and sat down to eat as he took her clothes to the dryer.

On the way to the dryer his brain started to worry about her again. He had been bringing lunches for their tea, but based on how busy the diner was, determined how much she ate. He had just learned that Belle would always help out a friend no matter what and often to his ire. But, that was what made Belle the wonderful person that she was. He had come to accept it and hope that she grabbed more than a biscuit-or cookie as the American's called it-with her as she left.

When he came back into the kitchen, her eyes darted suddenly back to her food, where he had this nagging suspicion that she had been curiously eyeing the rooms around her.

'When you get done there, perhaps you'd like to come join me in the library?'

Belle's eyes went as wide as he knew they would. As he had discovered her love for books, he had often wished he could make up some excuse to bring her to his home so he could show off his well curated library. As a collector of antiques, it had provided him opportunities of coming in contact with first editions and rare books. Money never being much of a hindrance, he had a library that any bibliophile could be proud of. Belle's dancing eyes made his heart skip a beat and he was happy to share this part of his home with her.

'Can I be done now?' She nearly upset the remainder of her food at her eagerness.

'Now, now, dearie. Patience is a virtue. I am determined you'll not leave hungry, which you've admitted that you are. You don't want to rile the town monster now do you?' He said it with so much self depreciating mirth, but almost took a step back when her only look was softness and concern. She leaned over the bar closer to him and his breath hitched as she laid her hand on his arm.

'You are nothing like what people say you are, and I'm glad.'

With very little lady-like grace, she spooned the last remaining veggies into her mouth and quickly went to wash her plate in the sink. Slinging water as her hands came up, her whole face shown with excitement. 'All done!' She practically shouted, which caused him to chuckle and motion for her to follow him.

He hated his limp and its insistence to scream at him as he hobbled towards the library. He could feel her eyes, knew the face she was making, because it had done so multiple times if he leaned to get something, or had to get up quickly from his seat. Biting his inner cheek, he contained every groan that wanted to escape. But as much as he hated the pain, he knew he deserved every single jolt of pain, and none of the concern he knew was clouding Belle's face behind him.

'Here we are, welcome to the beast's lair.'

'Robert!' She gasped, and her whole body seemed to soak in the encompassing shelves of books. 'This is the most beautiful room I have ever seen in my entire life.'

Warmth spread through Robert's body, and melted his heart. He never set to please people, never cared what other people thought, but to see Belle's face, he had never been so happy at someone else's pleasure-except, of course…but he would not entertain such thoughts of the past.

For a while, she stood frozen in place, looking as if the entire room was just too overwhelming, but her wits returned eventually and she smirked once she saw where he had been sitting, not an hour before.

'The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, huh?'

Heat rising in his cheeks, he sought to control it and simply shrugged.

He sat back down in his burgundy chair while Belle lovingly stroked some first edition spines. Sometimes he would catch her looking back at him and he would try to put his gaze back on the book in front of him.

'I would have done it for free, you know.' Her soft voice was barely audible.

'What?'

'Drinking tea between shifts. I would have done it for free. You're lonely.' He was about to protest when she shot a hand up to keep him from interrupting. 'And before you tell me some sort of stinging quip soaked in five layers of sarcasm because you hate letting people know they might actually be right, let me tell you that's not a question. I know this, because I think you're like me.'

She looked back at him and he thought he could drown in the ocean of soft blue. He thought he must have misheard.

'You are lonely? You are the most liked girl in this town, quite the opposite of me, I'm afraid.'

'Hmm' She came to sit near the fire. 'I think you are exaggerating a little on both accounts, however, there's a difference between being liked and being understood. Ruby is probably my closest friend because we work together, but she thinks I'm pretty crazy.'

His eyes rolled heavily. 'And she would know what sanity was, I take it?'

'Now, now, don't you dare bad mouth my friend.' Her eyes teased him.

'It's not just her though' she shrugged, becoming serious again. 'Anyway, I suppose what I'm trying to say is, I quite like our talks. I hope you don't think you have to rope me into talking to you. I mean, I guess I literally asked to come into your house. I promise that bit was accidental.'

He smiled, but silence crept into the library and the ticking of the grandfather clock outside of the library sounded like it was right beside them.

'Can I ask you how you hurt your leg?' She finally broke the silence.

He closed his eyes as he thought through her question. This was why he didn't have any friends, wasn't it? No one knew anything about it, and he preferred it that way. Them not knowing meant he didn't have to relive the memories. Part of him longed to pour out his soul to the kind blue eyes before him, the other part of him wanted to hide behind the wall of cowardice, never allowing anyone to enter.

'Don't mind me, Robert. Don't tell me if you don't want to answer.'

'I'll make you a deal.' He ventured, slowly letting the words escape. 'I'll answer a personal question for a personal question.'

Her eyes widened slightly and he saw her arms tighten around herself as if building her own walls. 'Alright, Mr. Gold' The surname slipped as her eyes steeled.

'To answer your question there'll be information you will want to know, I suppose. I had a son.'

Her eyes flickered towards his.

'We lived in Boston, once I had finally started getting ahead in life. I was a competent lawyer, I had begun buying real estate, and had started my side hobby of restoring antiques. I had grown up in-well, poorer circumstances and had determined that my son would not go through the same. My wife, well, she didn't think so well of me as you do, Belle. I quite remember the word monster being tossed up frequently.'

His smile did little to hide the pain.

'Neal, my son, had been asking for me to go on vacation to the seaside for an entire year before I relented. I was always busy, busy with my work and never had enough time for my son.' His voice broke a little and he started when Belle laid her hand softly on his good knee. No hatred in her eyes, not yet , he thought.

'Millie came with us, though she had others she would have preferred the company of, rather than the two of us. Neal convinced her and we had plans to visit the small town, seaside residence of his pen pal-here in Storybrooke.'

He fought with everything within him to keep his voice steady but his hands betrayed him. Beginning in his fingers, the terror of reliving the past crept into his entire body, and it was only Belle's steady hand and soft eyes that kept him from breaking down entirely.

'We never made it. Apparently it was a drunk driver, but at such a high speed, the collision was fatal. I-I should have seen him coming.' His hands were pressed against his forehead, wishing for the memories to be a dream, or rather, a horrific nightmare. 'It was my fault. My sweet boy who only wanted to spend time with his father and I couldn't keep him safe. Even Millie-as much as we hated each other, I would not have wanted gone like that.'

There were tears now, but he could hardly keep them back. When he regained himself, he saw there were tears in Belle's eyes too.

'It's not your fault, Robert, do you hear me? You can't blame yourself. I'm so, so sorry.' Her eyes betrayed the heartbreak she felt for him. For him. She's not blaming me.

'So that's how you hurt your knee.' She stated through her own tears.

'Aye, I was the lucky one.' His dark chuckle was suffocating.

'And you chose storybrooke?'

'Aye, I became quite a wealthy man over the next five years, I sold my practice in Boston and started to buy up property here. It felt like I was somehow fulfilling my son's last wish, you know? I'm not working near as much as I used to, and he's not here to know.' The last was said so quietly he wondered if she heard him. Her gentle nod assured him that she did.

Quiet comfort cominsed once more. Eventually Belle pulled up and wrapped her arms around herself again.

'I suppose I had better keep my part of the deal.'

'Aye' He ventured the slightest smile he could muster, thankful to change the subject, though he hoped his question didn't hold the same amount of hurt that hers did, though he imagined by her posture that it may.

'I suppose the thing I've wondered the most is…

Why do you do it belle? Why do you work your sweet little heart out for a failing business that your father cares nothing about and does nothing to help you. Why not leave your father and forge your own path? You had the opportunity to go to college and do something, why did you come back?'

'You know that's more than one question.' She smiled sadly, 'but since you were so forthcoming in your own, I'll let you get away with it just this once.' She paused for a second before sighing.

'The shop was my mother's'

His own eyes shot up at this revelation. Pain was coming, he knew, and he had just asked for her to suffer it again.

'I grew up loving that shop. Dad never had a mind for business, so mother did the behind the scenes things while he helped at the register, deliveries, and such. My dad wouldn't have ever won any 'Father of the year' awards but everything was better back then. He drank some, but nothing like now. I was a month away from finishing my first year of college when the news came.'

She wasn't looking at him. She wasn't looking at anything. She was there, wherever this story was going, she was there and the pain was raw.

'The doctor said she had months, but it was days. Seven days to be exact between the cancer diagnosis and her passing away.' Her own breath hitched and Robert had a strong desire to wrap his arms around her-but coward that he was, he only watched her with yearning eyes. Eyes that desired the pain to go away.

'Dad was beside himself. I still don't think he's recovered. You've got to understand, my mother loved that shop, loved it with every fiber of her being. Every corner reminds me of her, and there are still notes that I can't bring myself to throw away.

After she died, I tried to run the business myself, but dad's habits kept us on the precipice of disaster which led to the diner job to pay the bills, and Clark's supermarket for groceries. Because of Dad, the shop barely makes enough to cover inventory, let alone overhead, but for the life of me I can't abandon the shop-I can't even abandon Dad.'

He could stand it no longer, and reached out a shaking hand for hers. She looked up at him with a tear streaked face, and smiled once again.

'I suppose when it comes down to it, you coming to Storybrooke for your son's memory, and me keeping a failing shop for my mom's, we're both a little sentimental.' He couldn't help but agree with her.

'I'm glad to have found a kindred spirit, Mr. Gold.'