Storybrooke, 2005

Sunday was always Lacey's day off. Granted, it wasn't like she did much of anything the rest of the week, but she'd at least put an effort into her clothes and hair and try to spend some time with Gold in the evenings. Sundays, though, all bets were off; that was when she watched Desperate Housewives.

After dinner, Gold would go to his office to do whatever it was he did when she wasn't around and she would wash her hair, change into cotton shorts and a sweatshirt, and settle in to watch her show. If Ruby had the night off, they'd be texting back and forth whenever something exciting happened, although sometimes Lacey suspected her friend specifically didn't try to take the night off so that she wouldn't have to gush about designer clothes and big houses with her.

Things between the two of them had been growing noticeably more tense since Lacey had moved in with Gold, and while Lacey totally understood where her friend was coming from (she was pretty sure she'd have been pretty jealous if Ruby had been the one with the rich boyfriend) that didn't make things a lot easier. She tried to be generous when they went out, paying for Ruby's drinks and manicures and stuff they did together, but that had its own shit that came with it. The truth was, it was getting harder and harder to ignore that Lacey had become a kept woman with all the benefits and limitations that came with it, and Ruby was a single waitress who was still dreaming of running away. Lacey could buy whatever she saw on TV if she liked it and thought it would look good on her, and that was making it really hard to have as much in common with her friend as she used to.

On the days when Ruby worked, it was a lot more difficult to pretend that she wasn't kind of lonely, and on those days Lacey appreciated it a lot more when Gold would inevitably get sick of sitting alone and come out to see what she was up to.

Talking was strictly forbidden while the show was on, but he'd still come into the room and sit down next to her, him in a suit still (or at least his shirtsleeves) and her in a too-large sweatshirt and damp hair. He never criticized her taste in television, even though she wouldn't have blamed him if he did. He'd just sit there quietly with a glass of scotch in his hand and her head on his shoulder and stroke her arm softly when she curled her knees up to her chest and snuggled into him.

It was a lot like love between the two of them, then. Maybe it wasn't roses and chocolate and proclamations of undying affection. It wasn't Tom Cruise showing up at the end of the movie with a well-timed you complete me, or Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams making out in the rain, but it was warm and it was quiet. It surprised Lacey just how much she craved those sorts of moments, even though she'd never dare to admit it to anybody else.

Gold was lonely. She'd figured that out shortly after she moved in. Hell, it was probably the only reason he'd even bothered to invite her to stay in the first place. She hadn't realized, though, that she was just as lonely as he was until suddenly she hadn't been so lonely anymore. But even if nothing else, they were lonely together now, and that was a lot better than before.

Storybrooke, 2011

In the end, Rumplestiltskin's potion hadn't been necessary. Regina surrendered Henry easily when Charming had arrived at dawn to reclaim his grandson. The hour itself wasn't coincidental. Rumplestiltskin had instructed the prince to strike then, as light magic was strongest in the early morning. Magic was finicky like that sometimes.

He had promised Belle that he could provide protection, and she deserved no less. He had failed Bae utterly, and by the end Milah had been completely disgusted by his weaknesses. He couldn't fail Belle like that, and couldn't fail another child.

Once Regina was dealt with (or not, as it had turned out) he'd taken Belle to the store to purchase her nursery furniture. He'd do whatever it took to make her feel better about carrying his child - his daughter, he corrected himself. Belle was carrying their daughter, whoever she may end up being. Belle was currently upstairs, directing delivery men in the precise positioning of the furniture in the nursery. Rumplestiltskin would almost feel bad about letting her loose on unsuspecting strangers except that he knew she'd tip them obscenely well once it was over. For his part, he'd returned to the safety of his basement workroom. Charming's potion had set him back a day on a locator spell he was working on for finding Bae, and he was itching to get back to work on it. A quick glance at the table by the wall, though, revealed that Belle had forgotten her baby name book when she went to bed the night before.

She had come to sit with him as he had been finishing the potion. She'd brought a book of baby names with her, and had been carefully asking him for his opinions on whatever caught her fancy. Belle was determined that whatever name they chose should be appropriate both in the Land Without Magic and the Enchanted Forest. To that end, she had apparently made a list of her favorites and Rumplestiltskin could see it peeking out from the inside cover with a series of names written in her careful scrawl. His initial reaction was to ignore it and respect her privacy, but how much privacy did she really expect for a list of baby names left sticking halfway out of a book? Before he could debate it further, his fingers had already slipped the list the rest of the way out of the book and running his fingers over the names that may one day be given to his daughter.

The names she had chosen were frilly and just a little romantic.

Colette

Adelais

Amarantha

Athenais

Aurelie

Avila

Calliope

Celeste

Daphne

Elise

Estelle

Eugenie

Frida

Godiva

Isolde

Jocelyn

Lucinde

Lydie

Madeleine

Noemie

Odette

Penelope

Sabine

Sidonie

Sylvie

Vivienne

Names had power. Nobody knew that better than Rumplestiltskin, and each of these names spoke of something. Each name represented Belle's hopes for their daughter and her future, and each one was a future teeming with possibility. His fingers practically tingled with the latent magic in the list, and that was the only excuse he had for not hearing Belle when she joined him.

"There you are," she said from the stairs.

Rumplestiltskin felt like a child caught with his hand in a cookie jar, quickly shoving the paper back into the book and turning to face her. She looked at him curiously, then down to where the book rested on the counter.

"You're allowed to look, you know," she said simply, coming over to where he stood, pulling the paper out of the book, and handing it to him. "She's your daughter, too."

"I know," he replied, although he hadn't really believed it. "I was just curious."

He didn't like to invade her space, to be honest. He never had. Even when she'd been living in a dungeon, he had done his best to stay away from things that were 'hers' unless invited. It was the last little line he had tried not to cross, the thing that had kept her from becoming just another trinket acquired in a deal.

"Did you see anything you liked on the list?" she asked him, and he turned his attention back to the list of names.

Several of them had jumped out at him, though not necessarily for good reasons - people he'd met in deals, mostly. Then, there was the one at the top - Colette - the only name out of alphabetical order. It had been written in a different pen, as well, as though added either before or after the other ones.

"'Godiva' is mostly remembered for being naked and covered in hair," he said at last. "But Colette is very pretty."

"I knew Lacey remembered that name from someplace," she exclaimed, taking the list and scratching out Godiva. "But I thought it was just the chocolate."

"She was a very interesting woman," Rumplestiltskin replied. "Though she died long before you were born."

"You knew her?"

"I did," he said. "Though not very well. There really aren't that many people of note that didn't have at least some dealing with me."

"Oh," she said softly, and he wished he could decipher all the layers and layers of meaning in that syllable but it felt like it was just outside his grasp when she changed the subject. "You like the name Colette, though?"

"I do," he said evenly. It wasn't necessarily his favorite name, but it seemed to mean something to Belle. "Did you have a favorite?"

"Colette was my mother's name," Belle said softly. "She died not long before we met."

He should have known that. Why hadn't he known that? Why hadn't it ever occurred to him to ask? Because, he realized, she didn't like to talk about it. Whatever happened must have hit her hard, but he wasn't sure how to ask or if he even should. Wouldn't she just tell him if she wanted him to know?

"Do you want to name the baby after her?" he asked instead, hoping there was an easy answer

"I don't know," she replied. "We were...I loved my mother very much. I just - I don't know if I can think of a baby with her name."

"There are always nicknames," he offered. "Or we can give her two names, if you'd prefer, or even find something similar. But if you want to name her after your mother, then I'd like for that to happen."

Belle turned towards him with a look on her face that seemed familiar and comforting and terrifying all at once.

"I'll see what I can find," she said sweetly, seeming to debate something with herself. "And you'll tell me if you find something you like better?"

"Of course," he said, and he could guarantee that because he'd never go looking for something to love more.

She was still standing strangely close to him, though her eyes had darted down to her hands for a moment.

"Do you remember when Lacey used to watch her shows on Sunday evenings?" she asked all of a sudden.

He had to nod, because what else could he do? Of course he remembered. He remembered sitting with her even though another man had been there with chestnut curls draped over his arm as she snuggled her entire body into his side. Sundays were dedicated to Lacey's shows, but she had always welcomed Mr. Gold's presence in the room with her, and he had taken advantage of that open invitation. There had been something warm and comforting about her simply being in a room like that.

"I was thinking," Belle continued. "They were happy together in the beginning, but that wasn't just them, was it? I mean, that was still us in there, right?"

"In a way," he replied cautiously, unsure of where she was going with this. "And I think there are aspects of them that are in us."

"I can almost feel her sometimes," Belle said with a shrug. "And you know Lacey, she's always been a little forward."

Before he could even try to figure out what she meant by that, she was on her tiptoes with her lips pressed against his. He'd only kissed Belle a few other times, and their first kiss had ended disastrously, but there was no reason for that now. The curse couldn't be broken in this world, and if she'd forgiven him he'd be damned if he ruined it again. It took until she was pulling away that he realized he hadn't quite managed to kiss her back in his shock. She had a pretty blush on her cheeks, and was looking at him with so much hope in her eyes. He could almost hear the echoes of her whispered kiss me again, it's working, except that was a lifetime ago and there was nothing stopping him now except his own cowardice.

Taking a chance, he leaned forward and reclaimed her lips. She was warm and sweet, and he had missed her every day since she had left him. He craved her the way a flower craved water, he wanted her like he'd never wanted anyone else before or since.

She had leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his neck, and he let his hands creep down to rest in her waist. He wanted to ask her if this meant that he was forgiven, but he was too scared of the answer. If she hadn't forgiven him yet, then this certainly wasn't hurting his chances - and if she had, then asking her now couldn't do much more than remind her to be annoyed with him.

So instead of asking, he contented himself with simply being allowed to touch her even for just this moment, with the feel of her dress over her skin, and with the taste of her on his lips. In that moment, she was his everything. She was his hope for the future, and his last chance at salvation - and she was right there with him. For the first time in a long time, Rumplestiltskin felt the first stirrings of hope.