SMOKE AND ASHES
Belle has continued to impress Mr. Gold with her many talents. In a magical face-off with Mr. Gold, she reveals her channeling abilities which allow her to combine the talents of others. We discover that her mother's necklace is capable of burning Mr. Gold. During some physical sparring with Mary Margaret, Belle is able to demonstrate excellent self-defense and offensive skills. Later Belle, appalled at the state of disarray in which his magical books are kept, has volunteered to straighten out Gold's library.
Marilyn shares that Milah has modest skills but nothing remarkable and she bids goodbye to Gold (for now).
Belle and Gold continue to speculate on the direction their relationship is going and whether or not chocolate may be involved. Regina confronts Gold regarding his relationship with his little maid and makes some caustic comments about his personal appeal and true appearance.
Chapter 14
Thursday Night Dinner
+ + + The Next Morning
Gold picked up Belle from her apartment. She was wearing her blue skirt and pretty yellow top. She'd left her hair down and it was curling in dark caramel ringlets. Very attractive.
"How about the Twisted Crepe?" he asked her.
She shrugged. "I'll go wherever you tell me," she told him.
"I'll remember that," he murmured and Belle caught a glint in the man's eye which gave her a short pause. They walked up Lexington, turned onto Walnut and then onto Haywood to get to the restaurant.
Belle would occasionally glance over her shoulder but there was no sense of any dark powers afoot in the emerging light of the crisp morning.
He leaned over and whispered, "Most of the Powers of Darkness tend to sleep late. We're fine."
Belle hadn't realized that her anxiety was so apparent. But then, the man could get through her shields with no effort.
Not that she had ever sensed that he was attempting to read her.
She assumed that she would know if he was attempting to read her.
She looked over at him.
She was struck by how handsome he was. Not in a classic way, but, she thought, still very attractive. His eyes sharp and alert, his hair falling across his face, his lips pressed together.
He glanced at her. "Did I miss a spot shaving?" he asked her.
"Not at all. I just was admiring you, thinking how very handsome you are."
He was surprised. "Not reptilian or . . . what other descriptive word had Regina used?. . . or scrawny?"
Belle giggled. "Scrawny – hardly, you caught me when I fell from a ladder! And not a reptile, perhaps a . . ." she considered, "a raptor? Like a golden falcon, strong and brave, clever and dramatic."
He smiled."A raptor. I think I like that," he told her.
Belle was still considering. "That's not quite right, there's something else you remind me of, but I just can't quite place it. I'll let you know when it comes together," she promised him.
Settling themselves in seats at the restaurant, Gold ordered the Early Bird (with trout, eggs, cream cheese and scallions) and Belle ordered the Manic Monday (with bacon, cheddar cheese, eggs, mushrooms, green peppers and olives). He got tea. She got coffee.
"You seem nervous," he observed as they were eating. Belle continued to look around and pick at her food.
"Yes, I have this very important date this evening. I want it to be very special because the person who's coming to dinner is very special. And I'm not sure . . . I can . . . do very well."
He took her hand. "My dearest Belle. You don't have to do this. I'd be satisfied if we had cold sandwiches and hot tea."
"Now you tell me," she admonished him. He'd called her his dearest. "Mary Margaret helped me. I've got a whole meal planned, a salad, an entrée and my guest is bringing a dessert."
"I'm humbled. You are going to a lot of trouble."
"I wanted to," she made eye contact with him. "You've been so wonderful to me. I want to do something for you. I want to do this for you."
He held her eyes for a moment, then picked up her hand and delicately kissed the tips of her fingers. The gesture sent a thrill down her spine. Her mouth opened and she sucked in air.
He held her fingers to his lips. "I'm honored," he told her in a soft voice. "And, in case you don't know it, I feel that you've been wonderful to me . . . for me. Thank you."
They walked back to The House with his arm around her.
"I got some reading done last night," she told him. "Very interesting stuff."
"Psychotic sounding much?" he asked.
"Much, but makes sense for what I'm experiencing now. Unseen worlds, right. Explains the shadows I've seen all my life. The voices I've heard. . . everything."
"You were thinking you were crazy," he stated it as a fact.
"Yes, me . . ." she told him and then, carefully, she added, "and a lot of other people. I mean, when you hear voices they put you away."
"So you were locked up too?" he asked very softly.
"It was actually quite comfortable. Very good food, bright, sunshiny surroundings, pleasant staff, game night on Tuesdays, arts and crafts every Thursday, but . . . I couldn't leave."
"We have something in common then," he stated this quietly. He couldn't help but notice that Belle had tears pooling in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up something so painful for you."
Belle stopped walking and looked at him. "It's all right. I haven't been able to talk to anyone about my experiences." Her blue eyes were wide and somber. "I didn't have anyone around that I thought would understand. I . . . I . . . " she looked deeply into his eyes, "I didn't have you."
"Oh Belle," he pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. She rested her head on his chest, allowing his strength to buoy her up. They stood entwined together, comforting each other.
"At least I was in a comfortable spot, not like you'd been thrown into," she muttered. "I don't see how you managed not to go insane."
"Who says I didn't?" he asked her. They walked on into his shop together.
Belle worked thoughtfully the rest of the day finding yet another room, this one soft and serene, a new room that she had yet to notice. She did mention to Gold that she kept finding these other odd rooms.
"Yes, I find rooms from time to time that I've long since forgotten. Which one did you find now?"
"It's lovely, just blues and greens. So peaceful and calm."
"The Quiet Room. I'd forgotten about that one. It's probably safe. It's just a place that appeared when I need to settle myself. It relaxes me to go there. I like to just sit in one of the comfortable chairs, contemplate the light as it comes through the stained glass, smell the rich patchouli scented throws that are scattered around, drink a little brandy . . . " he drifted off.
"That's it. But I found myself just sitting and not working. I have to be careful when I'm in there or I'm afraid I'll just sit and get altogether too relaxed," Belle told him. The room had a seductive appeal that was wholesome enough but it would be easy to find your way into the room every day so you could sit and relax instead of doing anything.
As the time approached five, Gold called Belle over to his counter. "I've said it before and I'm saying it again. You don't have to go to a lot of trouble for me."
"But I want to," she told him for what must have been the twentieth time. "I want to thank you for everything you've done for me. I hope you won't judge my cooking too harshly."
"I'm sure whatever you fix will be delightful," he assured her for the twenty-first time. Belle smiled at him and standing on her toes gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He contemplated getting a hold onto the woman and dragging her into his backroom but clamped down on the impulse. Soon, soon enough.
+ + + Prior to the Evening Meal
Belle filled one of her two saucepans with water and turned the heat on high. She had peeled a medium onion and set it whole in a tablespoon of butter which was melting in the other saucepan. She opened a large can of whole peeled tomatoes and, as per Mary Margaret's lurid instructions, she crushed each tomato in her hand like it was a cheating boyfriend's heart. Mary Margaret had warned her it was a messy job as tomato juice would squirt out during the crushing action, so she was prepared, wearing one of her oldest tee-shirts over her clothes. She had finished crushing the tomatoes when there was a knock on the door.
Mr. Gold was very early, she thought as she went to the door.
"Mr. Gold," she said as she opened it.
It was Ruby. She was holding a basket containing a number of cream-colored candles set in simple glass holders.
"These are soy-based and have no fragrance so they're perfect to burn with an evening meal. It'll give you some ambiance," Ruby told her and handed them off to Belle. "I brought some matches too, in case you didn't have any. Have a great supper with Mr. G.," Ruby instructed her.
Belle thanked her and invited her in, but Ruby refused. She said she knew Belle had a lot to do and didn't want to be in the way.
Belle set the candles around but didn't light them. She then began to prepare the simple salad. There was lettuce, which she tore, dried cranberries that she had in soak, a little slip of parano cheese that she grated, a couple of almonds already slivered and a nice Honeycrisp apple that she began to cut up. As she was working on the apple, intent on cutting the wedges evenly, there was another knock on the door, startling her. The knife slipped and Belle jabbed herself. Small drops of blood dripped onto the counter where she was working. Whoever was at the door rapped again.
"Mr. Gold," she said as she opened it, putting pressure on her finger.
It was David. He was holding a large bouquet of flowers. "These are from me and Mary Margaret. We thought they would go nicely with the meal you're putting together." He noticed her finger. "Let me see that. Are you all right? Do you need stitches?"
"No, thank you, it was just a nick. I've got to clean up but it's already stopped bleeding," Belle assured him.
Still a bit concerned but reassured, David made sure she had something to put the flowers in (she found a drinking glass) and that she had really stopped bleeding. Then he also went on his way.
Belle went back and set the flowers on the counter's edge where they could be seen from both the kitchen and the living room area. She cleaned up her work space. She had spilt a few drops of her blood onto the apple but she rinsed everything off and things looked fine. She pulled the salad together with a simple balsamic vinaigrette dressing (also Mary Margaret's idea).
There was another knock on the door.
"Mr. Gold," she said as she opened it.
It was Emma. She was carrying a crusty loaf of bread. "Here. Mary Margaret said you were fixing spaghetti and I thought this would go great with the rest of your meal. It's from the co-op and freshly baked. Just slab some butter on it and toast it for a little while in the oven and it'll be great."
Belle thanked Emma for the bread who gave her a smile and a thumbs up before leaving. This time, being careful with the knife, managed to cut it through into two halves. She went ahead and buttered and toasted the bread slices. By now the water was boiling and it was twenty minutes to meal time. She added the pasta to the water and stirred the sauce.
There was another knock on the door.
"Mr. Gold," she said as she opened it.
It was Ashley, carrying a pretty blue dress with a floral print. Ashley spoke hesitantly, "I thought . . . I thought you might want something nice to wear for your dinner date. I know you haven't been able to do any more shopping. If you want to borrow it, I think it will fit you." She handed the pretty little dress over.
Belle was surprised but grateful. She had only her raggedy street clothes and the few skirts and tops she had picked up with Ashley at the Target.
"Thank you Ashley. This is beautiful."
"Mary Margaret helped select it. She thought that it would look pretty with your eyes."
"Wow, thank you."
Ashley gave her a quick hug and went on down the hall.
Belle put the dress on a hanger in the bathroom and went back to stirring the tomato sauce. It smelled delicious. There was another knock on the door.
"Mr. Gold," she said as she opened it.
It was Jefferson. He was carrying a bottle of red wine and a corkscrew.
"Thought this would go great with a spaghetti supper," he told her.
"It's lovely, but Jefferson, you must tell me why people keep bringing me things for this supper."
"That's easy. We're all hoping that you'll get Gold to dial it back a couple of notches so he won't be working us so hard."
"You think a meal with me will do that?" Belle asked him.
"It's a start. He hasn't dated a tenant in a long, long time."
"Well, thank you. It's all very much appreciated."
Belle had finished setting the table, lighting the candles, toasting the bread, selecting some glasses (regular drinking glasses) for the wine and had stepped back to look at things. She took a couple of the flowers from the large drinking glass and trimmed them up to go into a juice glass and set them on her little dining table.
She popped into the bathroom to comb out her hair, refresh her lipstick and slip on the blue dress. It was an amazing fit, snug around her waist, flaring at the hips but was a little more low cut than she was used to wearing.
There was another knock at the door.
"Yes," she said, a bit shortly, "What are you bringing?" she asked, popping the door open.
It was Mr. Gold holding a small covered platter. "Dessert? As I said I would," he told her.
Belle was mortified. "I'm so sorry. I've just had a stream of visitors bringing stuff for this dinner and I . . . I thought you were someone else."
"People are bringing you things?" he asked curiously, stepping into the apartment and handing her the platter.
"Oh my, yes. Ruby brought me some candles, David and Mary Margaret sent flowers, Emma dropped off some bread and Jefferson sent the wine."
"Nice," he told her. He looked over the little apartment. Belle had done an impressive job with the cast-offs he had given her. She had set the little table up in the living area in front of the large windows. A white cloth had been placed on the table. It had been set with her mis-matched, yet somehow coordinating china plates. The candles had been placed on the table and at a few points around the room for a soft, gentle light. The flowers had been set on the edge of the kitchen counter and a light fragrance wafted across the room. Belle had done a fantastic job in creating a simple but beautiful room, tasteful, understated, elegant much like the woman herself.
"Does this go into the fridge?" she asked him about the platter.
"No, it's a chocolate lava cake from the City Bakery, where we had breakfast the other morning. They made it especially for us and delivered it earlier today," he told her.
"Yum," she said and set it aside. "Uh. . . why don't you take a seat and . . . uh. . . may I get you some wine?"
"Wine would be lovely," he assured her. He watched Belle scrutinize the corkscrew and the wine bottle.
"May I be of assistance?" he asked her.
"Oh please," she answered him and handed him the two items. "I know in theory what to do, but I've never actually used a corkscrew to open a bottle," she confessed.
"It's no problem, my dear," and he expertly managed to remove the cork and then poured the wine into the glasses she had set aside.
She took a sip, "This is good," she said, perhaps a bit surprised.
"Jefferson has a refined palette, when he chooses to use it," Gold told her. He took a sip. It was a nice wine, a medium-bodied red, appropriate for a number of occasions. He watched Belle take another sip of the wine.
"You look very nice," he complimented her. Very nice, she looked drop-dead gorgeous! "New dress?"
"Ashley lent it to me," she told him. "I thought it was very pretty." She twirled for him.
It was a great dress, it fit her in all the right places, accentuating her generous curves and rich colors set off her porcelain skin. Perhaps a little more cleavage than he might like to see her display in public, but for their private dinner party it was perfect.
"Listen," she told him. "Everything is ready to go. Why don't you take a seat?" she gestured to the little table.
"Can I help?" he offered before sitting down.
"Oh no, thank you. Everything is ready to go." And she brought back the little salads she had prepped.
"Unusual combination of flavors," he told her. "Lettuce, apples, cranberries, almonds and some kind of cheese?"
"Parano. Mary Margaret helped me," she confessed.
"Of course she did," he said as much to himself as to Belle.
"Do you have something planned for tonight's sparring?" she asked him.
He shrugged. "I was thinking of having threesomes spar with duos."
"Interesting. If the duo is going to survive, they'll have to be clever and cooperate."
"Hope to see something like that." He continued eating his salad. "This is excellent," Gold complimented her. "Where did you get your self-defense skills?" he asked her.
Belle sat back. The man was watching her closely. She sat quietly for a while. "My father wanted me to learn how to defend myself. He made sure I got a little training," she finally answered.
"This is the same father who had you locked in a mental institution during your formative adolescent years?" he followed up.
"Yes. But understand, my father has always done what he thought was best for me. Sometimes it's probably hard for someone on the outside to appreciate what he did, but I know, he believed he was helping me, keeping me safe, trying to get me better."
Aware that the conversation had taken a drab turn, Gold changed the topic.
"Are you happy here, Belle?" he asked.
She looked him right in the eyes and her face lit up, "You must know I am. I've learned more about myself since I've been here than my whole life before. I'm not sick. I'm talented. I'm not crazy. I'm capable. I can take care of myself. I may be able to take care of others. I'm strong. I'm smart. I'm . . ."
"Sexy," finished for her and was surprised to see her blush. She really was an innocent.
"I've never met anyone like you," she told him. "You're . . . very different." Belle got very quiet and slowly continued, "You're powerful. And I've been around powerful people all my life. You're attractive . . ."
Gold pulled a face obviously he didn't agree with her assessment of his looks.
"You're attractive," she repeated, "and I've been around attractive people all my life. And. . . " she paused, "You're seductive. I've never met anyone that I was attracted to as much as I'm attracted to you. It . . . amazes me that you like me. I feel so unsophisticated around you."
"You feel unsophisticated?!" What was she talking about? "Woman, you have an extraordinary sense of style and more class in your little finger than I do in my entire body. I've never met anyone like you. I feel like an ignorant country bumpkin, a peasant, around you." He paused. "And I'm attracted to you," he confessed, "A lot. I like you."
"And I like you," she admitted.
"Now that is amazing," he told her. "What do you see in me?" Regina's words chafed him.
"I thought I just told you. You've made me feel competent for the first time in my life. I think you're gorgeous and when I'm with you, I want to . . ." she hesitated.
"What?" he asked.
Belle leaned forward and kissed him at the corner of his mouth. "I want to kiss you and touch you and I keep hoping you'll touch me. I want. . . you."
Gold's mouth gaped open. "You keep surprising me, woman. Have I told you that?" And he reached over to pull her over to him to kiss her on the mouth.
It was a breathless moment later. Belle had set her arms on his shoulders and closed her eyes. She managed to pull away.
"I have to get the rest of our supper out here," she finally got out, albeit weakly.
"Are you sure? We could just satisfy some of our other appetites," he murmured suggestively.
"I promised you dinner," Belle said, sadly.
He held onto her for a while and slowly released her. "You did. Can I help?"
Belle shook her head, "No. It's just pasta with Mary Margaret's spaghetti sauce recipe and some freshly grated Parmesan. Oh, and Emma's bread." Belle vaulted up and prepped the plates, ladling on the pasta, sauce, sprinkling the cheese and putting a crusty slab of bread on the side. While she had been preparing the plates, Gold had poured them more wine.
In the quiet candlelight, Belle was set off to perfection. To his eyes she looked almost luminous, as if she was lit from within. He couldn't help himself, even knowing she was 'contaminated' by Fae blood, he thought she was beautiful, thought she was desirable. Watching her twirl the spaghetti onto her fork, making sure there was an adequate amount of sauce, lifting it up to her perfect little rosebud mouth, seeing her lips close over the fork and pull away. . . Damn!
"It's pretty good," she told him. "I followed the recipe. It was easy."
He managed a bite. "It's delicious," he told her without tasting anything. He was too intent on watching her, delighting in her company, enjoying her light, airy presence.
Good lord man, get a grip on yourself. You've been with other beautiful, accomplished women before. But none of them have ever thought that you were 'gorgeous.' None of them have ever wanted to kiss you, had ever wanted . . . you.
By the time the meal ended, he was on his third glass of Jefferson's high gravity wine and feeling just a bit woozy. There was a slight sense of unbalance. He glanced at his watch. They wouldn't have time to enjoy the molted lava cake.
That would have to wait until after Magical Sparring Practice.
He smiled. This gave him an excellent excuse to come back down to her apartment.
"This was a lovely, lovely dinner, my dear. I feel totally recompensed for taking you out to breakfast." Now there was a little nausea.
Belle looked at him, basking in his approval. "I had a lot of help. I'm very glad you enjoyed it. And you are coming back here for the dessert you brought after practice, right?" She sounded quite hopeful.
"Wouldn't miss it," he promised. Sparring practice was going to be damn short tonight, he told himself.
They started up the stairs together when . . .
+ + + A Disturbing Interlude
It hit, waves of agonizing pain and nausea, joint pain, shivers. Gold collapsed, grasping his stomach. "Get Jefferson," he told Belle. "He's in 3A, directly above you. Get him NOW," he ordered.
He'd lived through this before. It had been so long ago, but he had never forgotten, could never forget how he had felt. They had done this to him. . . repeatedly . . . to control him . . . to punish him . . . just because they could.
Reluctant to leave him in obvious pain, but wanting to do as he had asked, Belle hesitated only a moment. She ran up the stairs and down the hall and pounded on Jefferson's door.
Jefferson pulled the door opened. Before he could say anything . . . "Mr. Gold is sick. He asked me to get you!"
Jefferson stepped out of his apartment, "Take me to him," and he followed Belle, running back down the hall, back down the stairs together.
Gold had crumpled into a ball.
"Jefferson?" he croaked out.
"Yeah, man. What do you need me to do?" Jefferson knelt down by the other man.
"My apartment. Help me."
Jefferson helped him stand up, draping Gold's arm across his shoulder.
"Not her," Gold said as Belle moved to get on his other side.
She was puzzled, confused. She followed them up the stairs.
At the top of the stairs, on his apartment's level, before he and Jefferson could head down to the apartment, Gold, relying on Jefferson to hold him upright, turned on Belle furiously, "You're still here! You lying bitch! Did you think I wouldn't realize it was you? You. . . you . . . betrayer! You're one of them! You were sent here to steal my powers! To weaken me! To ferret out my secrets! You thought you could get away with poisoning me! I'll recover, you know, and I'll come after you. I will make you pay." His face was a mask of pain and anger and Belle flinched back from the force of his hatred.
Thanks to my amazing (helpful) reviewers: RoxyMoron, RaFire, thedoctorsgirl42, emospritelet, SanSon23, cheesyteal'c, cynicsquest, Erik'sTrueAngel, OneMagician, karolprado, Robin4, Chauchi, Vampireguardian, juju0268, deweymay, WikiSorcerer (for Chapter 3), Grace5231973, MyraValhallah, Aletta-Feather, and spacecats.
FYI: Weekend plans coming up – going to, where else? Asheville! for the Summer Craft Fair. I shall likely be delinquent in getting back to any reviewers and reading stories posted Saturday (which many of you do).
Next: Belle makes a fateful decision
Gold makes a fateful decision
Coming soon: A secret is revealed and Milah steps up (in a surprising way).