I am currently recovering from the big C so I really felt connected to Belle in this chapter, lol
Per the usual, I do not own Once Upon a Time

Chapter 4 Sick Day

Once the rain cleared, he had insisted that he drive her home, no matter her objections. For being so sweet the girl could be stubborn sometimes. However, after realizing how cold and wet it was still outside, she finally consented. Once she was gone, the great house seemed darker, emptier, and lonelier than it had since he moved to Storybrooke. For the couple of hours that she had invaded his space, it seemed the most natural thing in the world while the emptiness now felt anything but natural. The book no longer held interest and he could only wallow in the memories that were his ever present companion.

The next day was Sunday, and it felt like an absolute eternity before he was anxiously waiting to see Belle dash in to share tea on Monday. The time came and went. No door violently swung open, rattling the bell to no end to let him know that Ruby had convinced her to stay longer, grab some food, give him a smile, and dash back out. No phone call to say she couldn't come (which hadn't happened before, she normally gave some sort of friendly hello, no matter how little time she had managed between shifts), nothing. As the time was creeping past noon, he made the decision to eat lunch at Granny's Diner, in hopes that he could find out some information about her absence.

The diner was packed with lunch guests when he walked in, and saw Ruby and Ashley Boyd dashing from table to table with sweat glistening on their foreheads. He groaned as he found the only seat left in the entire diner-a bar stool on display for the entire place to gaze upon.

'Why Mr. Gold! I didn't expect you at lunch hour-you hate crowds!'

'Now that you've stated the obvious, dearie, the fact is I am here and have my own expectations that seem unfulfilled. I half expected Miss French to be running around the place with you on such a busy afternoon.'

Ruby straightened herself to her full height, crossing her arms and her green eyes laughing mockingly at him.

'Belle didn't call you, huh?'

Robert gave her a snide look, hoping to convey the impatient annoyance he felt, along with his normal scowl which he kept as a fixture on his face, unless a pretty, blue eyed Belle was near, of course.

Ruby changed positions, ignoring his glare, putting one hand on the table and one on her hips.

'I guess she really must be feeling bad if she didn't even remember to call you!'

The mask dropped involuntarily.

'Miss French is ill?' struggling to mask the concern he felt. Too many onlookers, Gold. Wouldn't want to hurt your reputation now would you? His inner voice scolded, but the look remained.

'Seems your Miss French' His eyebrows went up at the insinuation that Belle was 'his Miss French' 'got caught in the rain while making deliveries this past weekend and caught a cold. Hey, maybe you wouldn't mind running by some soup for her? I doubt I'll get out of here before 5 and Granny is worried about her and made her some.'

Whatever snippy words would have normally come to mind with regards to Ruby Lucas, they all died on his tongue. He wanted to downplay the entire thing and not tempt Miss Lucas' mocking eyes, instead he nodded his head and waited for the high heeled waitress to come back with a container, get in his car and make his way to the little flower shop-her mother's shop he thought to himself. That's why Belle loved it so much and why she worked herself to ragged to make ends meet.

There was no bell to herald his entrance, so he could enter with stealth outside of the thumping of his cane. He imagined her father attempting to run the shop, and wondered if he would find him in a fit of temper, hopefully not later directed at his daughter. He was in utter shock when he found a too pale Belle French, head laid on folded arms on the register counter fast asleep.

'Miss French-Belle. Wake up, dearie.' spoken with more tender concern than he had spoken in years. Truth was, he hated to see her in such an uncomfortable position, looking so unwell.

Eyes fluttered to reveal glazed blue eyes, confused, attempting to gain some understanding of where she was.

'Oh, Mr. Gold! Oh no!' her hands went to her face in embarrassment. 'I forgot to call you didn't I' The voice was deeper than normal and raspy. His stone heart cracked a bit at her distress.

'No matter at all dearie, your friend in red and her grandmother sent you this.' pointing to the container in his hand. 'And told me of your predicament. I am sorry you're unwell, but I rather thought I would find you upstairs in bed and I had every intention to send this up with your father.'

She rubbed her eyes and stretched her surely aching muscles, if her glazed fevered eyes had anything to do with it.

'I'm afraid he felt a little unwell today too. He um.' Her eyes fell to the counter. 'Had a late evening last night.'

Robert's eyes darted angrily upstairs. 'And he has you, feeling so unwell, down here running the place, has he? I have half a mind to go upstairs and drag his hungover…'

Belle's burning hand held him in place. 'Please, I'm okay. There's only been a handful of customers, and our bigger order won't come until this weekend. We have a wedding.' She smiled despite how exhausted she looked.

'Since that is how it is, you run along, eat the soup, and go to bed. I'll take care of things here for the day.'

Belle's eyes went wide with the same sort of shock his inner voice was feeling at the moment. You're in trouble with this one, Gold.

'I can't let you do that,for me! What about your shop?'

'Already closed. I imagine the repairs will be there tomorrow when I come back.' He shrugged, as if helping pretty women run their shop while closing his own was a normal occurrence.

'Have you eaten lunch, Robert?'

'No, but it's no matter.'

She said nothing but walked upstairs and soon came back with two bowls and spoons. Ladling the soup she dished out enough for the two of them.

'This was made for you, Miss French.'

'And as such I'm deciding to share, now eat up before I change my mind.' Her eyes were tired but smiling. He smirked back, not really knowing how to protest.

'Thank you, Robert, you don't know how much this means to me.' She said after they had finished.

'No matter, now, off to bed with you.'

'You sure you can handle this?'

'Dearie, You do realize that your version of "handling it" was sleeping on the counter, correct? I believe I can do better than that. I have some knowledge of flowers, and you have very neatly labeled the prices of the arrangements, I believe I can do this.'

'Oh, um, let me give you Jeff's number. We have some deliveries tonight. Here is the list, he should know what to do.'

'Jeff Matterson?'

'Yeah, he sometimes does deliveries when I work at Clark's Grocery, or ones that are further out since he has a car' He said nothing. The weight of needing outside help due to not having a van was felt.

'Anyway, Mondays he gets off at 5, so if you'll call him, he will probably do the deliveries for me today. If he doesn't, let me know, I might can manage…'

'No, you will not manage. He will deliver them for you.'

'How can you be so sure?' Her voice slowly rasping away, threatening to leave all together.

'I'll make you a deal. You go up to bed and I'll take care of this, and you don't worry about it any longer, understand?'

She smiled then squeaked. 'Deal.' and sauntered off to what he hoped was bed.

Now he turned his face towards the small shop, taking in its contents, sighing peacefully at the organization he found knowing Belle had made it her labor of love, then coming around the desk he found his first obstacle-an electronic tablet-like register. He wasn't a very technical person, so he feared his operation of such a device might destroy the entire thing. No matter, he told himself. Surely one days worth, and a slow day at that, could be done the old school, handwritten method.

Now to the next obstacle.

'Hello?'

'Is this Jeff Matterson?'

'Yes, who is this?' Said the voice on the other end of the flip phone, belonging, it seemed to the the young man, Jeff.

'Mr. Gold, but I am calling on behalf of Miss French.'

'Miss French? Do you mean Belle?'

'Ah so you do have at least one brain cell working, I see.'

'Ouch, man, starting to see why Moe hates you so much. You must be really fun at parties.'

'I assure you the dislike of Moe French is mutual. But to the point. Miss French is feeling unwell today and needs you to do the deliveries for her shop tonight.'

There was silence at the other end.

'I don't like to repeat myself, Mr. Matterson.'

'I heard you, just trying to think. I've got a thing I was planning to go to with the guys, but I know Belle shouldn't be doing the deliveries if she's sick. I mean, I always hate that she does them anyway since someone took Moe's van. You know the one thing the old man would actually do for her.'

'If you are quite finished, Mr. Matterson, I will add that I personally am willing to pay you well for your help, enough to compensate you skipping your meeting with 'the guys', as you put it.'

'Well, you put it like that, how can I say no, Mr. Gold? No worries, I'll be over there after work.'

'Alright then. If you'll come over to my shop at your earliest convenience I'll compensate you accordingly.'

'Will do, Mr. Gold. If you see Belle tell her I hope she gets soon, bye'

He was glad that was over. Mr. Matterson knew how to make Robert's guilt increase ten fold. He hated this whole situation for Belle and didn't know how to make it better. For a man who could plan his way out of anything and did plan his way to get anything he desired, trying to figure out a way for Belle to flourish in this shop as well as one of her beautiful plants, seemed futile.

After a couple of sales and more private thoughts later, He was interrupted from his reverie by a loud thumping coming down the stairs. Too heavy to be Belle's steps he knew that the bounding idiot lugging down the stairs was none other than…

'Mr. French, how good of you to finally wake up.'

'Mr. Gold?' The man bellowed out, bloodshot eyes bugged out in instant anger. 'What are you doing here? It isn't rent day!'

'My, my, what a rude way to treat a person doing your job so you can sleep the day away.'

'Where is Belle?'

Gold's lips formed a solid line of indignation.

'You're her father, shouldn't you know?'

'I don't know. What I do know is she seems to want to spend an awful lot of time at your shop, instead of doing her job here. What exactly do you think you're doing with her, Gold? I know what the town is saying.'

Gold tightened his hand around his cane, struggling to keep the satisfying image of beating his head in, away from his thoughts.

'I have no idea what you are talking about. What Miss French does on her lunch break is up to her. If she wishes to spend time with me, that is completely up to her.'

'And spending time with you ' Those words were dripping with double meaning. 'Has taken the rent away. Which if you ask me is too high a price. I'd ask you to keep your hands off my daughter.'

'Mr. French, if you would keep your hands away from the cards and alcohol, perhaps you wouldn't have had a problem paying your rent in the first place. You treat your daughter contemptibly and then insinuate that she would sell herself to me for rent money? I assure you she has done no such thing, and when I say that she and I only talk and drink tea I actually mean that. She is the innocent party here, Mr. French, out of anyone and I'll not have you sullying her name because of mindless gossip.'

'You'll not have me do something? Belle is my daughter, not your , well, whatever it is you think she is to you.'

'She's my friend, Mr. French. Simply my friend, and perhaps if you treated her a little more like a daughter actually should be treated, things wouldn't be like they are for you. You should be the one with the second job, providing for your family, or the one getting out of Belle's way so she could run things properly. Instead you waste everything you've been given and wonder where it all went wrong. You would be the one down here running the shop while she recovers from being ill, which is where Belle is right now, since you asked earlier.'

'I've had enough. Get out!' He roared. The calmer side of Gold reminded himself that they needed to keep things quiet for Belle, but the very angry, emotionally driven side of him still really wanted to bash Moe over the head with his cane. He imagined that Belle wouldn't appreciate it, and she was the calming voice in his head overruling such notions.

'I take it you'll actually run the shop while I'm gone? Are you clear headed enough for that?'

'I think I can take care of my own shop, Gold!' He roared, getting too close to Gold's valued personal space.

'You've done an exceptional job so far, dearie.' Gold quipped.

'Don't you dearie me, get out!'

Gold glared at him and turned to limp towards the door. But coward that he was, he couldn't help turning around and telling the man something that had been swimming in his brain since Belle told her side of the story.

'Mr. French, I know life hasn't been kind the last few years. I understand that kind of loss more than you might think. However, we all must take responsibility for our own actions. How we respond to life is entirely our own doing, no matter how life is completely out of our control. You've made Belle pay the price for your behavior. I would ask you to think about that-I'll not trouble you any longer. Goodbye, Mr. French.' And he closed the door to a wide eyed, steaming man.

Author's Note: Adding this sooner than I thought!
This chapter was harder to write, mostly because I am trying to inch my way towards some semblance of a plot and coherent ending. I have a map in my head, but being so bad with directions, there may be a detour or two. Thank you for the kudos and comments! Hope you enjoy.