Chapter Five: Reservations for Five

A/N: Shout out to all the awesome readers who have reviewed so far, and special shout out to the readers who have been messaging me! Jamie, this opening scene is for you; sorry that you had to wait so long for it! This sub-plot will continue to develop throughout the fic. And RumbelleLoveIsHope, thanks for the idea! I spent the day on this chapter to try and make it a little longer for you guys. Happy reading! :)

Emma paced the small hotel room restlessly, her eyes flitting to the hotel window that looked out to the middle of another concrete wall. If there was one thing she disliked more than being away from her son, it was being in a crappy hotel room away from her son. Trying to make her voice as cheerful as possible, she flopped back on the bed and replied "Oh, yeah? And what's she like?"

"She seems pretty cool," Henry said, "She helped Rumple to make my hot chocolate, and she seems like she has pretty decent taste in books. I think Rumple has a crush on her."

Emma smiled, checking her watch. She had fifteen minutes until the press conference. Emma had begun her career as an undercover reporter for when she was fresh out of college, and as much as she loved her son, she was an incurable adventure seeker with a knack for getting down to the gritty details when it came to shady corporations. These daily good morning phone calls were a pillar that kept both her and Henry sane, and she was grateful that her employers covered the long distance cell phone bill.

"Hey kid, I'm really sorry, but I gotta get back to work soon… mind if I talk to your father for a sec?"

Henry tried to hide the hurt in his voice, and the fact that he tried to hide it made it feel even worse when Emma heard it there. "Kay, talk to you soon mom. Stay safe."

"I will. I love you, kid."

"Love you too."

There was a shuffling sound in the background, and then Neal's voice came through on the other end. "He really misses you, you know."

"I know," Emma said, sighing and clenching her eyes shut. "I know, Neal. But this is a really important case, and – "

"I don't want to hear it," Neal said, "I've had my fill of mothers trying to explain themselves right now… Just don't do something stupid and wind-up in a foreign prison somewhere. I've heard the horror stories."

Emma laughed, "You're so overprotective. Speaking of which, how's your dad? Any better?"

"Well, he won an award. The Gellar. I was thinking of bringing Henry to the ceremony so that the family would be there when – "Catching himself, Neal paused. Might as well get it over with. "I'm… um… I'm bringing someone. I mean, I met someone."

Emma felt her breath catch, and for a moment she could feel a tightness in her throat. But then she pushed it down and it was gone again, somewhere deeper inside of herself where she could pretend that it didn't exist. It was getting easier. They had both agreed that being apart was better than being together only to feel apart whenever they were away from each other, only to come home and fight. Emma was lucky that her friend Mary Margaret was Henry's English teacher, as this offered her a reliable third party to receive updates about Henry that weren't through Neal. It had been three years now, since they had decided to end things, and for the most part they were able to get by on civil terms. But Emma had never been confronted with Neal actually telling her that he'd met someone. Sure, she had assumed that he was out there, meeting people… women, even… but the fact that he was telling her about this specific one… that he wanted to introduce her to her Henry…. That was something that Emma wasn't sure she was ready for.

"Oh…" Emma said, once she was able to speak.

"I'm sorry, Em. I know you probably don't like the idea of her meeting Henry, but I think that they'd really get along! Belle's a literary agent, and she's mentioned a few books that she likes that I've seen Henry reading… I think it would be really great!"

Emma frowned, listening to this. Belle… wasn't that…? Glancing at her watch again, she sighed. "Look Neal, I gotta go to a press conference. If you want to date your Dad's friends, be my guest."

Neal's eyes widened as the dial tone suddenly greeted him with a harsh, mind-numbing blare. Shaking his head, he snapped his cell phone shut. Where did that come from? Emma must be staying up too late… Or maybe she had just gotten confused because Belle and his father's profession were in the same industry? Shrugging, he turned back to the kitchen counter and set his cell phone down. Then he went about packing Henry's lunch for the school day.

XXXX

"Are you sick?" Belle frowned, leaning forward to feel Mr. Gold's forehead. Mr. Gold winced… her close proximity wasn't helping. He had been trying every morning to ask Belle to attend the award night as his companion, and still he had yet to be successful.

Leaning back in his chair, Mr. Gold frowned, "Why do you ask that? I feel perfectly adequate."

Belle rolled her eyes, "You are truly an inspiration, Mr. Gold. I can't wait to be a famous author like you, with a readership in the millions, who can wake up in the morning feeling perfectly… adequate. Why are you sweating so much? Your face has been as red as a grapefruit every morning for almost a week, and your palms keep making squeaking noises on your china.

I'm dreadful at this, thought Mr. Gold. I might as well give up the whole damned idea.

"Stop fussing over me," Mr. Gold said, turning back to the paperwork spread out across the coffee table, "Now where were we?"

Belle's eyes widened, "You want to do paperwork? Mr. Gold, something must be terminally wrong."

Mr. Gold shot her a look, but when he saw the impish smile she was giving him he couldn't help but smile back. "Alright, dearie. I'm nervous about tomorrow night…" Not technically a lie. Just not the whole truth, either. Best to defer to a different reason… "I've been thinking a lot about what you've said, and I've decided…" What had he decided, exactly? "I believe it would be in Henry's best interests to attend the awards ceremony tomorrow night. For his education, I mean." Don't make it about a date. Make t about spending time with the people closest to you. Yes, that can work! "And I was wondering, um, if you might like to have dinner with us first."

Belle listened to this tirade of stopping and starting and stuttering with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. The poor man… Had it really been this long since he had asked someone to help him watch his grandson? Of course he would be distracted at the awards night… Belle had assumed that she would be helping to escort any guests he wound up bringing!

"Oh, Mr. Gold!" She laughed, giving him a look that conveyed what a silly little man he was. Mr. Gold gulped, fearful. "Of course I'll help you to babysit Henry!"

If Mr. Gold could have painfully smacked his head down on the coffee table, multiple times, he would have done so right now. She thought he was asking her to be a babysitter!?

"Of course, I'll have to reschedule a few things with my date…"

Never mind, Mr. Gold thought. He ought to just break off one of the table legs and stab himself with it. This was just getting worse by the minute. He was too old to be putting himself through this every time that he saw her.

"…Oh, wait! I know! We can just all have dinner together! Choose a restaurant that you like, and I'll have Ashley make all the arrangements." Belle smiled brightly, and leaned in to give Mr. Gold's hand a gentle squeeze, "Don't worry, I won't let you feel alone tomorrow evening. You'll have us!"

If Mr. Gold had been red before, he was paler than the winter storm outside, now. "I… um… that sounds like a plan, Belle."

"Great!" Belle said, lifting her day planner and chewing on her ballpoint pen. "Thank goodness… this man that I've been seeing is so boring, you wouldn't believe. Have you ever been seeing someone that should be good for you, but there's just no chemistry at all?"

Mr. Gold gulped. The problem he was facing at the moment was very different… his seemed to be an issue of one-sided chemistry, and an overwhelming amount of it. He realized suddenly that he had zoned out again. He had been doing that more and more frequently around Belle, and it was actually becoming quite the problem. Blinking a few times to clear his head, and then shaking it for good measure, he said, "Pardon?"

Belle laughed and shook her head at him, like she was watching an old mutt try to figure out where the doggie door was in the middle of a brick wall. In other words, like he was the most pathetic thing on earth. Mr. Gold couldn't remember the last time he had felt so flustered. "Reservation for how many?"

Mr. Gold sighed, "Well, let me see… My son is supposed to be coming to the ceremony, so I suppose that I'll have Ashley call him and invite him as well… That makes him, Henry, you, your date, and myself."

"Reservations for five, then," Said Belle, "No problem!"

With that settled, Belle began to pack up her things. "Thanks so much, Mr. Gold! It'll be a great night!"

Mr. Gold sighed dejectedly. That train was so far off the rails that now he couldn't even see the smoke. Moving to stand by the door, Mr. Gold helped Belle with her coat. She smiled, a slight flush dusting her cheeks, "Thank you. So, what are you going to do tonight?"

Mr. Gold responded dutifully, "Finish the revisions on chapters fifteen through to twenty-one, and then refer back to previous outlining for the fourth installment of the series so that I can begin my rough draft when the final draft of this installment wraps-up."

Belle smiled, proud of how far both she and Mr. Gold had come in just a few short weeks. "Very good. I'll call you later to check in."

"You sure you don't want to install cameras so that you can watch me, too?" Mr. Gold said, but the fondness in his voice dulled any intentional sharpness that might had been in his words. Belle looked back over her shoulder and pinched up her face at him in mock disgust. Turning back, she went to open the door, but was immediately met with a sharp gust of cold air and flurrying snow. With a surprised yelp, Belle leapt back and closed the door again.

Mr. Gold looked past her to the gathering storm outside. "Where are you headed to?"

"Just home," Belle shrugged, "On the nice days I walk from here to the nearest subway stop, but it's a ten minute walk and in this weather… I think I'll just call a cab." She turned to look at him, and was surprised to see that Mr. Gold was already donning his thick wool coat. "What are you doing?"

"Driving you home," Mr. Gold said gruffly, in a tone that implied that he would not be persuaded otherwise.

"Oh, Mr. Gold, you don't have to – "

"I insist," said Mr. Gold, turning back to the door. "Which side of town are we driving to?"

The traffic was slow in Manhattan, as the snow blinded windshields and the slush drowned tires and stalled cars. Black ice was another problem entirely, and the emergency response teams were being overwhelmed with accidents. Mr. Gold drove slowly and carefully; Belle was relieved, remembering all too well what a reckless driver Gaston had been in bad weather.

The irony of this was that, unfortunately, Mr. Gold was not the only driver on the road. They were about twenty minutes from Belle's apartment complex when another car slid out of control, and slammed into the side of Mr. Gold's car. The car skidded to the side of the road, slamming into a hydro pole. Belle's eyes clenched shut, and it wasn't until her eyes opened that she realized that the sound ringing in her ears was her own scream. Turning her head quickly to the side, she was relieved to see that Mr. Gold was alright. The hydro pole had been hit by the back of the car, so that the back end had warped and slightly wrapped around the pole. The pole had missed both of the front seats so that neither Mr. Gold nor she were harmed; when Belle realized this, she heaved a sigh of relief.

"Bloody hell!" Mr. Gold growled, slamming his black gloved hand down on the steering wheel. "That bastard better have insurance!" Mr. Gold clasped the door handle, preparing to make his way over to the other car and give the driver a piece of his mind.

"Wait!" Belle exclaimed, and reached over to grab Mr. Gold's hand in her own, small mitten. "Let me talk to him… The roads are slippery, and it was probably unintentional. I'll get the insurance information from him while you use my cell phone to call a tow truck."

Mr. Gold hesitated, reluctant to relinquish control of the situation. Belle gave his hand a gentle squeeze and added, "I'm really glad that we're both alright, Adam. We want this guy to co-operate, not punch one of us into a snowbank."

At the sound of Belle saying his first name, Mr. Gold quieted. What had been suspicions of affection in the past flared inside of him, becoming a bright and burning flame that he had not felt in years. Had he been anywhere else with her, and had he had the self-assurance, he would have kissed her now. As it was, he simply, leaned back in the driver's seat – as far away from her as possible – and nodded. Belle reached into her purse and fished around until she had found her cell phone. Passing it to him, she made to get out of the door.

"Thank you," Mr. Gold said, making her pause.

She glanced back at him over her shoulder, "Thank you, for listening."

While Belle spoke with the driver who had side-swiped Mr. Gold's vehicle, he dialed the tow truck operator he had used in the past, a man by the name of Michael Tillman, whose children went to school with Henry. After reporting the accident, he sat in the driver's seat and leaned back, staring straight forward out the windshield. He felt numb. It had been years since the car accident that had injured his leg, and still even the thought of driving was usually out of the question.

Why had he driven at all? He hated to drive in such bad weather, let alone in Manhattan at rush hour! But of course he knew the answer… He hadn't wanted it to end yet. He'd just… just wanted more time. About half an hour later, Mr. Tillman showed up with his tow truck. Surveying the damage, he frowned, "I can have it for you by tomorrow afternoon, but you should probably think about staying in town tonight… I doubt many taxis will want to venture out to your area with the roads this bad."

Belle had come to stand beside the two men, and she turned to Mr. Gold now. "You can stay at my place, if you want. I feel terrible… this wouldn't have happened if I'd just taken the –"

"Oh, shush, Belle!" Mr. Gold said helplessly gesturing with his hands.

Mr. Tillman looked back and forth between the two, before clearing his throat. "Will that be all? It's pretty cold out here… I should start hooking up the car."

Mr. Gold gestured dismissively to Mr. Tillman, "Yes, yes, that's all." Turning back to Belle, he added, "Should we call a cab?"