Disclaimer: As you can probably tell from the fact I'm writing fanfiction, I don't own Once Upon a Time or any of its characters.
Note: The flashbacks are just curse memories; they didn't actually take place.
Looking back on it, it was pure fate that Mr. Gold had met Mrs. Gold. Usually he closed his shop at exactly nine o'clock every night, sometimes as early as seven or eight. But during that particular evening, time seemed to have slipped away from him, and he was too absorbed in his work fixing an old clock to remember to change the sign.
The bell over the door warned him that someone had stepped inside. He sighed, setting down his tools in exchange for his cane.
"Excuse me?" A soft voice called, "Mr. Gold?"
"That's me, dearie, but I'm afraid the shop's," he pushed the curtain to the side, "Closed."
The first thing he noticed was her eyes, bright as sapphires, while her cheeks and nose were flushed from the cold. Dark curls decorated by raindrops, she pulled her jean jacket tighter around her slight frame. She looked like a porcelain doll that had come to life, delicate and lovely.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, and there was a lilt to her voice, "I saw the lights were on, and the sign said "open"…"
"I suppose it's my fault, then," he murmured, approaching the counter, "Is there something I can help you with?"
She stepped forward, unfolding one arm to place a diamond ring in front of him, "I'd like to sell this, please."
He picked it up, examining it. The woman, a girl really, watched him nervously, "…doesn't look to be a family heirloom."
"No," she agreed.
"Gift from an ex-boyfriend?"
"You could say that," she shifted uncomfortably.
He opened a drawer and withdrew a magnify glass, turning the ring this way and that, "…it is an actual diamond, though it's only a quarter of a carat. I can give you…seventy-five for it."
"Bull."
Mr. Gold blinked, taken aback by her not merely accepting the offer like so many of his patrons. Calmly, she continued.
"It's worth at least a hundred twenty five. It's brand new and excellent quality."
"I have to make a living."
"Considering the top of the bracket is five hundred I don't think taking my offer will put you in the poor house."
Oh yes, this woman had done her research.
She pursed her lips, "I'm willing to accept as little as four hundred, though."
Mr. Gold grinned, "Is that so?"
She smiled back at him, "I'm a very generous person."
Maybe he wasn't used to seeing genuine smiles, but there was something about this woman's that stirred long-forgotten sensations in the pit of his stomach. Her smile seemed to radiate, infectious and bright. And maybe he was too caught up in how lovely that smile was to stop himself from doing something he never did with customers.
"How about two hundred?" He bumped his initial price up. Considerably.
The woman shook her head, "I'm willing to go down to three fifty."
"Two fifty, and that's my final offer."
"Three hundred or I walk."
"Two seventy five."
"Thank you for your time," she picked up her ring, "But I think I'll try somewhere else." She turned around and went for the door.
Sometimes he let them walk away, especially with something as commonly pawned as jewelry. Usually he gave some remark about how he was the only pawnshop in town and how they weren't likely to get a better price.
The word slipped out before he could stop it, "Wait…"
The woman paused, glancing back curiously.
"…three hundred's a decent price."
She smiled and came back to the counter, appearing quite proud of herself. And for good reason; she was the only one who had ever gotten him to agree to a price other than his own. He pulled out a pad of receipt forms and jotted down the information.
"Can I get a name?" He asked.
She gave a half-hearted smile, "Why does it matter who sold it to you?"
"Sometimes people want to know more about an item than I can tell them," he lied, "Besides, I like to keep track for my personal records."
She watched him for a moment, and he feared she could see right through him. Instead, she just answered his question.
"Rosaline French."
He tilted his head, "French, as in…"
"Moe French, right," she frowned, "He's my father."
There was something there, in the bitter way she admitted it. But he wasn't interested in family dynamics, and was only somewhat intrigued by who had given her the ring, "Address?"
"1984 Chevy Silverado," he glanced up at her and she shrugged, "I'm leaving Storybrooke tonight."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, I just… Want more than this provincial life can give me."
"Understandable."
He finished the form and gave her three hundred dollars in cash. She set the ring down on the counter and took her spoils.
"You have a good night, Mr. Gold," she said, and actually sounded sincere.
"Good luck to you, Miss French."
She smiled, "It's just Rose, but thank you."
She walked out the door and Mr. Gold sighed, taking the ring to the back. It was a brief flicker of light amidst an ocean of darkness, a beautiful intelligent young woman who wasn't spitting venom at him. He wished her well on her venture into the great wide somewhere.
II
"So giants…beanstalks…treasure… Are we looking at something like "Jack and the Beanstalk"?" Emma asked, craning her neck and squinting. She couldn't see the top; looked like it went clear above the clouds.
"Something similar," Belle admitted, "Only Jack is the leader of a mass genocide."
"Perhaps, but of a greedy bloodthirsty race," Hook insisted, "A race that would have continued to plunder the lands using the magic beans-"
"How would you even know? You've been in Neverland for the past three hundred years." She set down both satchels, rifling through her own first, "Giants lived peaceably up in the Cloudlands as successful tradesmen until the humans started getting greedy, demanding the beans for themselves. The philosophy of the giants prevented them from giving the beans away to just anyone, so as is human nature we…killed them all, plundered their treasure and tried to steal their magic beans but with their last bits of strength they destroyed their crops," she glanced at Emma, "Imagine the atrocities against Native Americans, but they're the size of skyscrapers, and there were no attempts to convert them to another style of living."
Hook snorted, "If that's the story you want to believe, love, go right ahead. What's that?" He asked as Belle pulled out a small sack.
She held it up and smiled, "Poppy powder; found it back at the palace. It's enough to knock out a giant for a few hours if we use it all."
"So we're going to knock out the giant and steal the compass?" Mary Margaret guessed.
"A couple of us are," Belle flipped open Hook's satchel, pulling out the cuffs, "We have two cuffs that will allow us to climb the enchanted beanstalk," she turned to the pirate, "Unless I'm mistaken."
"No, you've got it," he assured her, "But, seeing how I've been so kind as to lead you here and inform you of what needs to be done, I believe I'm entitled to one."
"You're entitled to nothing," she retorted, turning to Emma and Mary Margaret, "Though I really do think it should be him and I going up there."
"You want us to leave you alone with him?" Mary Margaret asked.
"Better than separating you two," she insisted, "I can handle him, and out of the four of us I'm best equipped to deal with the giant," she shrugged, "We can't come to some sort of agreement, we poppy him."
"What are we supposed to do then?" Emma wondered.
Belle mulled it over, "…bond? Make sure the giant doesn't come down the beanstalk?" She glanced at Hook, "Ready?"
Hook grinned and winked at her, "If you are, milady."
She rolled her eyes, passing him a cuff while securing her own. He continued to watch her and she sighed impatiently.
"What is it?"
"I can't climb one-handed, now can I?"
"I'd like to see you try."
He pouted, "As entertaining as that might be to you, we are indeed slaves to time. In other words, tick tock."
If she had to listen to Neverland puns the entire way up the beanstalk, only one of them would be reaching the top of it.
Against her better judgment Belle drew out his hook and gave it back to him. With a satisfied smirk he secured it into place, gesturing towards the stalk, "Ladies first?"
"Age before beauty," she insisted.
She glanced back at Emma and Mary Margaret, thinking the concern on their faces was a little unnecessary. It was just a giant; she was more worried about what Hook might try to pull once they were alone.
After the pirate had taken a few strides upward Belle got her footing on the plant, shifting her satchel behind her. It would be a bit difficult without gloves, but the stalk was nice and dry. She'd just have to hope that her clumsiness wouldn't decide to kick in.
IIII
It was only the following day that Mr. Gold saw Rose again. He was going to collect the rent from Marine Garage and was about to step into the office when he heard that the proprietor was already busy.
"Please, Jack, it's not like I'm asking for you to do this for free; I have three hundred dollars I can pay up front and I can work off the rest of it."
"Rose, do you even know the slightest thing about cars?"
"I can learn, I'm just asking for a chance-"
Mr. Gold passed through the doorway and Jack Souris glanced up at him. A thin man with a hawk nose, he was more bark than actual bite and Mr. Gold didn't miss the slight flinch as he recognized him.
"What seems to be the problem here, Mr. Souris?"
"There's no problem, Mr. Gold."
"Then why would you dismiss Miss French's offer so easily?"
Rose glanced down at her lap, playing with her fingers. She wasn't sure whether to be honored by Mr. Gold's defense…or frightened at the way he was approaching Jack's desk, glaring at him.
"Miss French is more capable of your job than you are, even without experience. Any business in town would be lucky to have her as an employee including my own." He leaned forward, his lips curling back to expose his teeth, "I suggest you do whatever needs to be done with her truck, as soon as possible."
Ignoring the fact Jack looked about ready to do something involuntary in his khakis, Mr. Gold straightened, picked up what he was due, glanced briefly at Rose, and then walked out the door. Rose turned to Jack, who sat frozen until the sound of Mr. Gold's cane had faded. He then looked at Rose as though seeing her through new eyes.
"…it'll take a week. Tops." He promised.
Relief rushed through her, "Alright, when can I star-"
"Oh no need," he tittered, playing with a pen, "I'm sure there'll be…other arrangements."
Rose felt as though she had missed part of the conversation even though she had been right there the entire time. She excused herself before hurrying after Mr. Gold, needing an explanation.
He hadn't gone far and Rose caught up with him easily, jogging up beside him, "What was that about?"
"What was what?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Mr. Gold," she smiled, "Something happened back there to convince him to fix my truck, and it certainly wasn't my doing."
Mr. Gold shrugged, purposefully not looking at her, "Maybe my presence just encouraged him to actually think." He stepped off the curb, crossing the street, "I could pay off your debts right now…"
Rose smirked, "I've heard about your loans, Mr. Gold. I'm not sure I could afford one."
He gave a low laugh that rolled down her spine and gave her goosebumps, "I'd just ask that you work it off in my shop."
She glanced at him, but there was no innuendo to his tone, no fine print. Just a straightforward deal and oddly enough…she trusted him, the shark of Storybrooke.
Huh…she had always thought of herself as smart. Maybe she wasn't as smart as she imagined, if she was considering accepting a deal with the devil.
II
She forgot how difficult it was to climb a beanstalk. Even with all of the thick vines, the actual flesh of the stalk was hard to grasp and the leaves ripped off easily. Belle tried to outpace her nautical counterpart, but apparently he wasn't a stranger to climbing.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you were trying to get away from me."
Belle ignored him, seeing how the answer was so painfully obvious. But Hook was persistent in his attempts to engage her in conversation.
"This your first beanstalk?"
She took a long slow breath, "No, I've climbed before," she grasped onto the next natural handhold and pulled herself up higher, "With my husband." Grab. Pull, "We made a date of it." Grab. Pull, "Had a lovely." Grabpull, "Picnic. Very romantic."
Hook was silent for a miraculous five seconds, then spoke up again, "…you know most men would find your hostility off-putting but I-" She cringed as he swung closer to her, "Love a challenge."
"It's not a challenge," Belle protested, "You've tried to kill me, you want to kill my husband. I don't want to socialize with you."
"He killed my true love."
"Which was horrible!" She sighed, "I came a few centuries too late to this argument, but I don't think any of you were in the right. She shouldn't have left under the pretense she did, you shouldn't have continued the pretense, and Rumple shouldn't have killed Milah."
"And yet you forgave him."
She didn't appreciate the bitterness in his tone, or the aggressive way he sank his hook into the beanstalk, "Yes. Seemed trivial, to hold it against him when it wasn't even from my grandparents' lifetime."
"Is that how you cope with his atrocities? Shrug them off?"
"No," she glanced around as the stalk broke through into a courtyard, "I forgive… More for my sake than his. Don't you find it's a lot of effort to hold on to such hatred?"
"Not really." Hook climbed a bit higher, cutting off a vine, "I just remember the look in her eyes as her life faded from them and it tends to get me into the proper mindset."
Belle watched as he swung from the beanstalk to the courtyard on the vine, torn between envy and wanting to make a reference to Tarzan. He landed with a distracting grace, and Belle scrambled higher when he looked over at her.
"I just find it a little energy consuming," she countered, "Forgiveness isn't the same as forgetting, it's just…moving on."
"Easy for you to say," he tilted his head and put his hand on his hip, obviously amused, "…you stuck, love?"
"No," Belle protested, before making the mistake of glancing down. No, she wasn't going to risk jumping, and certainly wasn't going to swing off of a vine.
With a small gesture the foliage was persuaded to extend out towards the cobblestones and Belle crossed over it like a floral bridge. The courtyard was neglected, to say the least; skeletons strewn about, chunks missing from the architecture. Belle glanced around and sighed.
"It's really sad to think of how much of this destruction could have been avoided…" She murmured.
Hook shrugged, "War happens, in one form or another. Mortals can't resist it." He started towards the looming mansion, "So do we have a plan for attaining the compass?"
Belle jogged up beside him, "I know we don't have much to trade, but I'm hoping he'll accept an IOU…"
Hook wheeled on her, "Are you honestly suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"
"Probably."
"We just…go up to the giant and ask nicely? That's your plan?"
"Really, Hook, you're acting like we're talking about a rabid werewolf." She put her hands on her hips, examining the doors, "…do you see a doorbell?"
"No, and I wouldn't tell you if I did."
Belle rolled her eyes, picking her way past the debris and remains of the fallen. She rocked onto the balls of her feet, peering into the crack of the front door, "Hello!"
The greeting was hardly out before a hand clamped down on her mouth and she felt herself being dragged backwards, "You're going to get us killed!"
Belle tried to protest, but the hook poking at her ribs kept her from wiggling too much. She huffed and relaxed against him until he released her, then she spun around to glare at him. He however had shifted into a more contemplative mode, staring at her intently.
"…what?"
"Nothing, it's just…you remind me a lot of her." He confessed, and she knew instantly from his tone who "she" was, "The eyes, the love of adventure," he looked her over, "…the recklessness."
She grit her teeth together, "You ever compare me to Milah again I'll kill you," she hissed.
Hook frowned, "It was a compliment," he insisted.
She shook her head vehemently, "No. It wasn't."
The ground trembled beneath them and Belle almost lost her balance, a roar coming from deep inside the castle. Hook sprinted away from the entrance while Belle fumbled with her belt loops. Eventually she succeeded in unarming herself, but the closer the giant came the less steady she was, and her legs soon gave out from underneath her.
She gripped onto the stone, half-curled up as a massive shadow loomed over her. Her stomach caught in her throat as she fought back an instinctive scream.
The ground tremors stopped. She didn't feel the pressure of a foot coming down on her body. After a few moments she dared to look up. He was taller than the doorway, broad with long hair swept back in a loose ponytail. Dark eyes glowered down at her, hands as big as she was curled into fists.
"What are you doing here, you filthy human?!" He snapped, "You here to steal my treasure, huh?! Going to kill me?!"
Belle slowly moved to stand, "Actually, no, neither of those things."
"Liar!" He barked, shifting his foot back. Belle was worried he was going to kick her away like a pebble across a parking lot.
"I'm not lying!" She protested, thinking even if he was several stories above her she shouldn't be raising her voice at him.
He pointed down at her rapier, "Then why do you have those!"
Belle rolled her eyes, "Honestly it's more for him than…" She trailed off, glancing around. Speaking of Hook, where had he run off-
Movement from the doorway caught Belle's eye and she saw the pirate running towards the giant's leg, sword in hand. She bent down and snatched up her rapier which caused her vertically gifted host to try and make a swipe for her. She dodged his fingers easily, blocking Hook's swing.
Hook glared at her, "I was coming to rescue you," he insisted.
Belle shook her head, "I don't need saving right now." She informed him, "And even if I did you're not my hero."
The captain tried to make his way past her, wielding the sword of the late giant slayer Jack if the inscription was any indication. But she continued to fight him back, using both her body and her sword. Hook, who would otherwise be amused by how close Belle was to him, was irritated at her obstinacy. The giant hesitated, too confused by the two humans squabbling against each other to crush them both.
For one horrifying second Hook thought he had accidently pierced Belle as he heard the rip of fabric, but when he glanced down he saw it was worse than that.
Belle didn't notice what Hook was distracted by; she just continued to try and get him away from the giant. She didn't realize that Mulan's bag had been torn open until a thick cloud of poppy powder drifted up towards both of them. She had just enough time to shoot Hook a venomous glare before it overtook her, knocking her out before she even hit the ground.
III
All of his sleeplessness had finally caught up to him and, despite it being the early afternoon, Mr. Gold was out like a light.
He found himself back in front of the shattered looking glass, stepping into the white room that cast no shadows. Belle glanced over and grinned, stumbling over herself to greet him. He laughed, catching her.
"Careful now; the last thing you need is to wake up with a broken neck," he joked, holding her close.
She hugged him tight, "What are you doing here, it's got to be the middle of the day for you!"
"Needed to sleep; had some fun with a reanimated Daniel and a hysterical Regina."
Belle looked confused for a moment, then gave a slow nod, "Victor."
"Victor," he agreed, squeezing her shoulders, "But what about you? Isn't it the middle of the day for you too?"
"Cat nap," she explained a little too quickly, "We've been traveling to find a compass to guide us home."
"That's all well and good, but what about having an actual portal?"
"We have… Wardrobe ash, from Emma's nursery. I was thinking if we could restore it somehow…" She trailed off, only realizing after she had said it just how farfetched the idea was.
He didn't dismiss it, "Can't think off the top of my head of a restorative spell strong enough, but there are plenty of other ways."
She leaned into him, resting her forehead against his neck, "It's too bad that siren got killed off," she mused, "Lake Nostos would have come in real handy right about now."
Mr. Gold pulled back, looking at her, "…did you pack the water?"
Belle's brow furrowed in confusion, having no idea what he was talking about… And then she realized he hadn't gone off topic.
"I don't remember… I don't remember."
"I'll check," he assured her, "And then if it's not-"
"I'll go to the castle anyway," she cut him off, "Because even if you do have it we need something to deal with Cora and Hook…" The name was out of her mouth before her filter kicked in and stopped it.
His eyes widened. Her eyes widened. She was pretty sure he was about to have a stroke.
"And…Hook?" He repeated slowly.
She bit her lip, "I'm handling it."
"How did he- Is he- How long have you-"
"Not long at all, maybe a day. I don't know how he left Neverland, he said something about Pan…" She grasped his hand and squeezed it, "I can handle him, Rumple," she pleaded, his expression only making things worse, "I've done it before."
She hadn't seen him this afraid in a long time and she wished she wasn't the reason. He gripped her tighter, his voice coming out in soft whine, "You have the dagger; he could kill you."
"He's not going to," she stated, "We'll find a way to open a portal and leave them far behind, unable to follow." She cupped his face in her hands, "I will come back to you; I always do."
He pulled her close and their lips met in a tender anxious kiss. And then suddenly Mr. Gold was awake, on the couch, an ache of helplessness squeezing his chest.
He didn't let himself wallow in it for long though. Soon he was on his feet, going towards the basement to begin his search. He wasn't sure what he'd do if he found it, how he could help from this world, but he'd make it work somehow to get his wife home.
IIII
Rose immediately took to Mr. Gold's Pawnshop and Antiquities Dealer. It had the same timeless, comforting aura as the library, though the books here were significantly more limited. She felt she could spend forever looking through everything that was available.
"You will man the register and keep track of inventory," he began as she tried to keep her hands at her side, "You'll set up the displays and clean both the front and the back of the shop, answer the phone if I'm not in…" He glanced back to see she had picked up a tea cup from an incomplete set to examine, and he wondered if she was paying any attention to what he was saying, "And occasionally I'll ask you to collect the firstborns I accept as an alternative form of payment."
The tea cup dropped from her hands to the floor. Apparently she had been listening.
He smirked, "That was a joke," he admitted.
She gave him a nervous smile, "Right." She bent down to pick up the cup and grimaced, "I'm sorry, it…has a chip."
He stared at her as she held the tea cup up towards him, as if to validate that she had chipped it. He wasn't sure what was more striking; the fact she had confessed or how bright her eyes were even with remorse in them.
"You can hardly see it," she insisted, even though it was as obvious as the decals on its side.
Mr. Gold shook his head dismissively, "It's just a cup," he stated, turning around to continue the tour.
Rose smiled, setting the cup back with the set. She was starting to suspect he wasn't nearly as bad as Storybrooke painted him to be.
Mr. Gold was pleased to discover just how intelligent she really was; she picked up on everything quickly, not a single stupid question passing her lips. It only took her a few days before she could run the store as though she had been there all her life, and that long to have him wrapped around her delicate fingers. He found himself living for her smiles and striving to make her laugh, a moth drawn to a flame he knew he shouldn't try to have…but he wanted her all the same.
"Am I paid weekly?" She inquired exactly seven days past her start date.
He glanced towards her, something in the back of his mind pointing out that if it had been anyone else sitting on his desk he'd have made sure they never sat again.
"Dearie you don't get paid at all. You're reimbursing me for dealing with your truck, remember?"
She cocked her head to the side and raised her eyebrows, "I still have to live, Mr. Gold. You of all people should know that you can't stay anywhere for free. Even Granny only allows so much charity."
A crazy thought entered his mind, one that he knew she'd never agree to. But before he could stop them the words were leaving his mouth.
"You could stay with me."
Rose stared at him, clearly as shocked as he was at the offer. His face was placid, even as his heart hammered against his rib cage.
"Stay…with you," she repeated.
He shrugged, "It's only a couple thousand dollars; a few weeks and you'll be out of my hair."
She raised her eyebrows, "It's said no one's ever been inside your house before." There was a playful lilt to her words.
Mr. Gold kept his composure, "None that have survived, anyway." And then she laughed. He was pretty sure she was the first to ever laugh at his morbid sense of humor.
Strangely enough Rose hadn't thought twice about accepting Mr. Gold's offer, intrigue the main driving force. Intrigue about the house, intrigue about its owner… And it turned out his pink palace was the saddest place she'd ever seen. There were rooms enough for a large family, and so many things she wondered how he could keep track. But the solitude of the mansion was overwhelming, and Rose found herself dreading the times she was there alone. She felt sympathy for Storybrooke's devil and sometimes, when she caught his shy smile or watched him pouring himself into restoring a neglected antique, there was a twinge of something more.
"Why did you want me here?" She asked him one morning.
Mr. Gold was caught off-guard, glancing up from the crossword he was fiddling with. Rose leaned against the counter, focused on him while she sipped at her coffee. He twirled the pen around his fingers.
"Because I didn't want to listen to you complain about sleeping in the forest every shift," he insisted. Rose gave him a look that screamed her opinion of him being full of bullshit.
"I think you were lonely," she deduced, "I mean, any man would be lonely, with only his large estate to keep him company."
He shot her a sad little smile, "Haven't you heard, Miss French? I'm not a man."
"You are," she insisted, straightening to put her cup in the sink. And as his eyes moved over her body, he knew he couldn't argue. He was a man…at least in some aspects.
She glanced back at him, "How much longer until I've paid off my debts?"
"A few more weeks at least," he said.
She smiled at him, and it took all he had to keep a straight face. Both of them were aware that she had already paid back her debt…but for some reason Mr. Gold couldn't fathom, she hadn't contradicted him every time he claimed she was short.
Weeks turned into months, and yet Rose never commented about how she was receiving paychecks now, and he never suggested she had overstayed her welcome. He wasn't sure how long they would have gone on like that, living on pretense, if it wasn't for Mother Superior.
He shouldn't have worried about Rose; she was a grown woman who had gone to grab them both lunch…a few hours ago. Yes she had a tendency to get distracted, but this was a bit much even for her. Was the book store having a ninety percent off sale or something?
Finally, under the premise of needing to go the post office, he went to go check on her.
She was scarcely a block away, a bag of take-out in hand. Her free arm was looped around her stomach as she stared at a spot just over the other woman's shoulder, completely emotionless. He wasn't sure what tipped him off first; the uniform, the hair, or the posture of the woman speaking to Rose.
Mr. Gold frowned and quickened his pace. He couldn't hear what Mother Superior was saying to her, but anyone that took Rose's smile away needed to be dealt with swiftly. Both of the women glanced at him as he approached, and he wasn't sure which glare was worse.
"Mr. Gold," Mother Superior greeted, looking him over as if she had found mold on her bread halfway through eating a sandwich. He sneered at her and, after frowning disapprovingly at him to let him know she wasn't intimidated, she left.
He turned to Rose, "What was that about?"
"Nothing." She brushed by him, head bent to hide her face from him as she hurried back to the shop.
He made a mental note to increase the convent's rent, whether he could find a legitimate reason or not.
The shop's bell jangled violently as she threw the door open, and he barely caught it.
"Rose…Rose!"
She dropped the takeout on the counter and continued to the backroom. He paused to turn the sign to "closed" before following after her, completely baffled.
He found her leaning against the desk, fighting back tears.
"What the hell did she say to you?" He hissed.
She shook her head, "It's stupid… I really shouldn't care what some nun thinks."
"But you do." He hesitantly moved closer, tempted to reach out and take her hand, rest his own on her shoulder… Something mildly reassuring.
She tightened her arms around her, as if holding herself together, "…she thinks you're taking advantage of me," she murmured, "That you're pressuring me into...sex for rent."
Mr. Gold scowled, "I'm not-"
"I know you aren't, and you know you aren't…" She dared to look up at him, "…but what does it look like to the rest of the town? The heartless pawnbroker suddenly having a young woman under his roof?"
He blamed it on the fact she was on the verge of tears. He blamed it on the fact he had been the one to suggest the arrangement in the first place. He blamed it on the fact he was absolutely infatuated with the woman and couldn't bear the thought of her leaving.
"We could get married."
Rose was confused for a moment, wondering how that was going to prove that they weren't sleeping together. But then she recognized it for what it was; an excuse. Her throat tightened at the idea of being trapped in Storybrooke for the rest of her life, even if it was with the stoic gentleman she had come to care for.
…surely they wouldn't stay, though. They'd move, see the world together. And for some reason the idea of him by her side as she braved the rest of the world was comforting.
She slowly nodded, "Alright. We could get married."
The next day they went to the courthouse; she wore a white lace blouse and he wore the same three-piece suit he wore every day. Rose's friends Mary Margaret and Jefferson acted as witnesses to the brief civil ceremony. Rose's heart fluttered in her chest as their lips met for the first time, sealing her fate as Mrs. Gold.
Oddly enough she thought she heard a laugh. A high-pitched giggle that couldn't be human. But she assured herself she was imagining things.
II
Waking up was like trying to swim with lead-filled boots, a long struggle that felt almost futile. Still, Belle's eyes opened and the grogginess of the poppy powder began to fade. Things started to come into focus; she was staring up at a ceiling that seemed miles away, and something was draped over her body, linen.
She sat up and glanced around to see curved metallic sides. She was in a bowl, with a linen napkin acting as a blanket. She tossed the napkin aside, scrambling towards the rim and looking over onto the rest of the table.
An elaborate obstacle course/maze awaited her, made out of various tableware and household items. As unnerving as the foresight to create this was, she definitely had to give him props for creativity.
"You're awake."
Belle glanced over to see the giant seated, his chin resting on his arms as he gazed at her. She gave him a shy smile, "Yes, I am… Thanks for not crushing me or anything while I was out."
The giant continued to stare at her and it dawned on her that she was missing a one-handed pirate.
"…you stopped him from trying to kill me," he said slowly. Belle nodded her agreement. "Why?"
"Because you could have killed me, easily, but you didn't. Besides, I prefer to believe people are benevolent until proven malevolent. I'm Belle, by the way."
He hesitated before replying, "…I'm Anton." He shifted, still appearing wary of her, "But what are you doing up here, treasure hunting?"
"Sort of," Belle admitted, "We heard that there was a compass up here that we could use to get home."
"I don't know what you're talking about," he mumbled, avoiding her gaze.
Belle rested her chin on the rim of the bowl, "It helps to guide people to specific realms… Without it we could end up anywhere."
"Doesn't matter, all the beans are gone anyway," he countered.
She shook her head, smiling, "Magic beans aren't the only way portals are made… We think we have another way out of the Enchanted Forest."
"You said something about getting home," Anton recalled, backtracking a little.
She nodded, "Well it's not exactly our home… But our families are there. My husband, and my friend's husband, and her daughter's son…"
Anton's face softened, "I had a family… Until humans killed them all."
A soft whimper slipped out of Belle and she vaulted over the side of the bowl, making her way towards Anton. He watched her nervously though kept still, even as she reached him. She wrapped her arms around his hand, and it had been so long he didn't even recognize the gesture as a hug at first.
"You're not like other humans," he said.
"You'd be surprised how often I get that." She rubbed his thumb before straightening, "Where's the man I was with?"
Anton inclined his head and Belle looked over. High on a shelf, Hook was slumped against the glass wall of a jar.
"I think he breathed in more than you," he said.
"Good." He gave her a quizzical look and she shook her head, "It's a long story. Basically I had to let him tag along in order to have him tell me where he thinks the compass is."
Anton glanced away, fidgeting, "…maybe I do have it," he confessed.
"I don't really have much to offer for it," Belle admitted, "Some books maybe… Not sure what sort of favor a giant would need…"
He shifted, somehow managing to look shy, "Well if you don't have to leave right away, I'd appreciate some company. It's been a long time since I've had someone to talk to."
Belle smiled, "I'm sure my friends won't mind waiting."
IIII
How stupid she had been to think that marrying Mr. Gold, the man who owned half the town, would have brought her any peace.
The first week was quiet; she kept waiting for him to make a move but he did nothing more than kiss her, if he showed any affection at all. But apparently Sidney had found out about their nuptials somehow (Mary Margaret maybe, she'd always been horrible about keeping secrets) and once it was splashed across the Daily Mirror there was no more anonymity. Rose, who had gone through her eighteen years practically invisible, was suddenly thrust into the limelight. She just wanted to bury herself in a book and never come out. Especially the night Mr. Gold offered to take her to Chantey's Lobster House, a little diner just outside of Storybrooke where they could eat out in peace.
Rose was startled to see flashing lights surrounding a spot only a few hundred yards from the town line. There was a single ambulance along with Sheriff Graham's cop car and Billy's tow truck.
"What on earth…" She wondered.
Mr. Gold shrugged, "Probably an accident," he said casually. Maybe they would have just continued if she hadn't have seen the profile of Moe French.
Rose hadn't spoken to him since she had tried to leave Storybrooke, but that didn't dull the fear that bolted through her upon seeing him on the scene.
"Rose!" Mr. Gold barked as her door flew open. He screeched to a halt to keep her from hurting herself as she undid her seat belt and lunged out of the Cadillac.
She ran over to the crowd, her cry out to her papa fading as she saw the wreckage. A red Monte Carlo was crumpled against a tree like a recycled can, the license plate "NO1LIKE" dismissing any hope she had that it was anyone else. EMTs had surrounded a stretcher and all Rose could see were splotches of blood; on the sheet, marring what wasn't covered in medical equipment.
But she didn't need a clear look to see who was being loaded into the back of an ambulance.
"This is your fault."
Rose turned around to see her father glaring at her. She knew Gaspard was like the son he never had, but to blame her?
"You broke his heart, Rosie…" He said slowly, "You broke both of our hearts."
"Because I wanted a life that was mine?"
"Because of the way you left and what you're doing now."
"Rose."
She glanced over to see Mr. Gold standing alongside the car, his expression unreadable.
"Come on," he said.
Moe scowled at him, "She's not a dog. That was her fiancé-"
"Rose," he repeated, cutting Moe off, "…come."
Rose knew she shouldn't; she didn't want to leave Gaspard without knowing he was going to be alright. Even if she wasn't sure she had ever loved him, she cared for him and at least wanted to be there for him. And there was the whole issue that her father had brought up, of the way he was commanding her instead of asking her to go with him.
Still, she found herself crossing the distance back to the car and back to the life she was living now, while she walked away from the life she had lived before.
She could hear it in the way he slammed his door, the force he put behind it. And maybe if she looked over at him she'd see his set jaw and white-knuckled grasp on the steering wheel, but she kept staring forward.
Rose blinked back tears, "…I'm not really that hungry."
He turned the car around and they went home, not bringing up what had just gone on. Rose was still sure she'd see it in her dreams that night.
III
He scoured every inch of the house, every nook and cranny of the pawn shop. He searched every property he could think of, but he could not find the waterskin of Lake Nostos water.
Mr. Gold collapsed on the couch in the early hours of the morning, fighting back tears and the fear that he had overlooked it somehow. He could search again tomorrow to be absolutely sure, but he needed fresh eyes, which meant a reluctant break.
"I think you have it, Belle," he admitted, swallowing roughly, "…it's up to you, love."
IIII
He had left at some point. Rose didn't know when, or why, but she tried to drown her concern in "A Streetcar Named Desire". She found herself rereading the same page over and over again as dread filled her.
She heard the sliding glass door ease open and she glanced at the clock. 2:25. She set down her book and went to go greet the intruder. How oddly calm she felt, when someone coming in the back door should send her searching for a weapon.
Moonlight silhouetted the prowler and Rose recognized the outline of her husband. He froze when he saw her and a silent minute passed, both of them completely still. Then he shifted his weight and Rose saw the blotches all over his suit, his shirt, and his cane.
"He won't insult you again, dearie," he murmured.
Thank god she didn't have dinner; otherwise she might've lost it as she realized what those splotches were, and who Mr. Gold was referring to.
"Did you kill him?" She asked.
"No."
There was another long moment before Rose turned to go back upstairs.
"Throw the clothes in the wash and take a shower before you come to bed."
"Rose." She paused as he called out to her, "You know I'd never hurt you, that what I did… I did for you."
"I know," she assured him. And that was somehow more terrifying.
II
"Alright, lemme see if I got this straight," Emma said, tapping to each part of the diagram, "Cinderella's fairy godmother was killed by Rumplestiltskin but he got her to the ball, so he's technically the fairy godmother…"
"Yes," Mary Margaret affirmed.
"You met Cinderella after she got engaged because Kath- Abigail met her at the ball she went to where she met Sea- Thomas. Abigail is Midas's daughter…and she was engaged to David until David un-golded her true love."
Mary Margaret pursed her lips, "…actually she was engaged to Charming pretending to be his twin Prince James." She shook her head when Emma's eyes widened, "But we'll talk about James later, after we get the immediate relations down." Lord knew Charming had to sit her down to explain that one to her.
Emma wavered for a minute before she continued, "But you also knew Abigail because of princess academy."
"Finishing school."
"Close enough. And that's how you know Belle… Who is married to Cinderella's fairy godmother." Mary Margaret nodded and Emma sighed, using her shoe to smudge out the dirt diagram, "So like…every fairy tale is connected to each other."
"Just about," she agreed.
Emma sighed and rubbed at her forehead, "I really should've read the book when I got the chance."
The sound of leaves snapping off alerted both of them and they got to their feet, weapons out. However what they saw was not Belle or Hook starting the long way back down…but the giant itself, moving much faster.
"Emma run!" Mary Margaret shouted and Emma did…straight towards the beanstalk, "Emma!"
Emma didn't remember a hell of a lot from that story, but she did remember that Jack cut the beanstalk down and the giant fell to its death. She swung her sword into the plant…only for it to sink in and refuse to come back out. She tugged at it but Mary Margaret grabbed her by the shoulder and tore her away, the pair of them stumbling backwards.
And then the giant set foot on the ground, scanning it. He spotted them and Mary Margaret knocked an arrow, aiming it at him.
"Where are they?!" She shouted, nervous both that the giant had killed them and that the arrow wouldn't do any more damage than a splinter.
Movement came from his pocket, and then Belle's head poked out, "Snow! Emma! Meet Anton!"
Mary Margaret lowered her bow. Emma squinted. Anton reached into his pocket and pulled Belle out, carefully kneeling to set her down. Mary Margaret ran to embrace her and Belle beamed.
"I got it," she blurted out the moment Mary Margaret's arms were around her.
"The compass?!"
"Yes, and I think I know how to make the dust work. We just need to get to the Dark Castle."
Emma continued eyeing Anton, who seemed a little nervous for a guy a hundred times their size, "Where's Hook?"
"Still up there," Belle turned to smile up at her new friend, "Anton's going to give us a head start."
He nodded grimly, "You be careful, Belle," he murmured, "And I hope you find your family."
Belle ran back to hug his hand and his thumb gently stroked her back in return, "I hope you find happiness…whatever that is to you."
She backed away slowly, smiling and waving as Anton straightened to his full height. She didn't turn around until the three of them were in the woods and on their way to finding a path.
"You know no one believes me when I insist you catch more flies with honey," she remarked, "But kindness can go just as far if not farther than aggression and cruelty. He really is a sweet guy."
"Well we only saw him for a few minutes, but he seemed like it," Mary Margaret agreed.
Belle pulled out the golden compass, showing it to the other two.
"So… Dark Castle huh? Sounds cheery enough," Emma said.
Belle smiled down at the compass, already imagining how warm the hug would be when she was finally reunited with her love, "…it's home sweet home."
IIIIII
So…I finally got this chapter put together. So difficult for such a short length… But I've graduated and in a job that doesn't stress the hell out of me, so here's hoping that these updates will go back to being regular.
Sneak peek: More dream-skyping. Belle returns to the castle to find that her books have been rearranged. Cruella returns for a wolf hunt in present day and flashbacks. And honestly I'm really excited to try out Granny's POV.
