Chapter 5 Uncomfortable Confessions

'So?' Jeff stood impatiently, arms crossed and smirking at the door as Robby finished seeing Belle to her car and confirming her address so he could pick her up the next day.

He had gone several hours without speaking, and almost forgot he even needed to. He just looked at Jeff quizzically, making Jeff shift and sigh dramatically.

'C'mon, Gramps-do I get a thank you or are you going to threaten to beat me with that cane I know you have?'

How did he know…

'Mary Margeret saw you at the diner across town a few weeks back, but wasn't close enough to talk to you.'

So now everyone knew his 'Gramps' persona was complete-cane and all. Well, Belle didn't know yet, but she would tomorrow. Sunday and Monday were always his reprieve from his suffocating brace that kept his leg feeling on the brink of buckling. At least with a cane he had something to lean on-he hated it though, hated that he had visible evidence of his mounting dependance. Whether it was on the cane or brace for walking, Jeff or Belle for talking, he felt debilitated in more ways than one.

'Turns out.' He said slowly, gaining his speaking voice again. 'I suppose the former is to be the preferred this time, anyway.' He smirked a little. The grin given back was amused and perhaps a bit smug.

'I knew it! I just knew you both needed a little nudge in the right direction!'

'Your meddling almost had her thinking I wanted nothing to do with her-just in the beginning, thankfully. She turned it into a meeting of two friends wanting to get to know each other.'

'She friend zoned you?' He asked incredulously. That she hadn't laughed in his face or gotten angry that she had been roped into having to eat with him was a miracle in and of itself. Jeff shouldn't have been surprised in the least, Robby thought.

'However.'

'However?' Jeff pulled up his eyebrows in curiosity.

'However…She is going to an estate sale with me tomorrow.' And he couldn't help smirking-he was still surprised at the turn of events despite all of Jeff's interference and his own usual lack of bravery. 'And it's a date.' his lips turned up even more.

'Good for you, Gramps.' He hit him hard upon his back, almost causing him to go sprawling on the floor.

He smiled again after catching his breath, but inwardly there was a battle waging. As much as he was looking forward to spending almost an entire day with Belle, he knew that he had to tell her-he must. He had despised his father for his cunning deceptions. Here he was running his own con so that he might get to know the woman he loved without doing anything uncomfortable. Coward. His father would say, and Robby couldn't help but agree with his father's voice. Coward or no, he would not begin a relationship-a relationship! He! Robert Malcom Gold (both he and his father could agree that tacking his father's name onto his own was a mistake. For Robby because he despised everything his father stood for-for his father because he had been embarrassed to be associated with his weakling of a son)-yes, he was in a relationship! And to finish his line of thought, he was determined that he would not begin such a wondrous thing, short lived as it might be, with deception. He would tell her. He would tell her everything. Of course, though he felt himself becoming increasingly more comfortable around her, more so than he ever had dared dream, he knew that the buildup to trying to confess anything would leave him almost as mute as she thought he was. Since their medium for conversation had been him using pen and ink, he had an idea.

At home that night, he pulled some paper and a fountain pen he couldn't stand to sell-he had an unfortunate habit of getting attached to some of the things he acquired. And he began,

Belle,

Before we begin to even get to know each other, I have a confession to make. When you asked Jeff about why I had bolted so suddenly when you first saw me, he sarcastically answered that I was mute. I am afraid he wasn't entirely accurate. I do have difficulties speaking to people, and more specifically with people I do not know, my body tends to tense and even freeze up to the point that speech is not possible. However, my speech box does indeed work, and has worked this entire time.

I understand if this falsehood I've perpetuated causes you to want to cut our time short, but I did not want you to be deceived. I am writing, as the sheer number of words that I would need to explain myself might disappear due the nerves of approaching you with my falsehood.

I hope you can find it within yourself to forgive me.

And hopefully still your friend,

Robby Gold

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair again as he folded the paper to ready it for the day ahead. He wouldn't sleep, he knew it. Thoughts of her rejection and his own feelings of humiliation from his defects would keep him up until the wee hours of the mourning.

Robby looked in the mirror as he readied himself for his date. As much as he liked to hide his many visual faults behind the suit he so studiously took care of, he knew he would feel out of place if he wore one just to go across town to walk around a house where a family was selling off someone's old belongings. Instead he wore a simple collared shirt and dark pants and hoped for the best. He shrugged his shoulders at his own reflection, ran a comb through his shaggy hair-he probably needed at least a trim, he hated hair cuts as the industry seemed to attract people who only wanted to engage in small talk the entire time. Most thought he was an aloof snob within the first few minutes and ignored him the rest of the time, but it only seemed to make him feel worse for offending them. So, he did his best with the hair he had and walked out the door with heightening nerves and went to pick up Belle at the address she gave him.

He had known from the street name that she lived in a questionable part of town. She had worried at her lower lip as she wrote it, and as he approached the number written down his assumptions were proven correct. It was a dilapidated pile of wood that could hardly boast the name, house. There was a well manicured garden, that when spring and summer hit must be quite beautiful and a contrast to the dingy house exterior it stood beside. He wondered if that was Belle's touch on the place, since wherever she walked she seemed to bring beauty and warm light.

He had been debating on whether or not he would need to go up and knock and what he would do and say if someone other than Belle (was she living with her father? Was that why she was in such a place? He wondered) answered the door. He doubted anyone else would be quite so understanding at his inability to communicate efficiently and might throw him out on his heels before he even got to see her. It turned out that he needn't have worried. Belle bounded out of the rickety pile of rubbish before he could even park the car in the pot-holed driveway.

Belle was always so full of smiles and exuded joy but as she exited the house her face was drawn and grave. Her eyes were stormy seas of concern and as he limped over to open the door for her, cane well in hand, her face was red with something that could be classified as either anger or embarrassment. It was hard for Robby to tell, with her face looking so grim and because neither had been looks he had ever seen on Belle before.

She looked up at him as he held the door and smiled a small, nervous smile and a 'thank you' as she got in. He wanted to tell her it was alright, that he could understand-that while he and his father would look wealthy from the outside, that it was all a facade to make them look successful and have people want what they had. That underneath it everything had been done so cheaply that a wrong step might upend it all. When he had chipped a bit of tile as a child his father had kicked the air out of him for putting a chink in the mere mirage that they had the very best of everything. While wanting to give Belle some comfort he also hated that she had to live in a place like this. What he wound up doing was saying nothing and allowing the nerves he had built up over the drive over to increase to such a crescendo that he could hear the rush behind his ears and he hoped that Belle had not tried to engage in conversation as he didn't even had the ability to hear her at the moment.

She wasn't saying anything. She was sitting there, wringing her hands, head down and eyes fixed on the floor. He could sense that she was ready to get away from the situation and as much as he was both in trepidation and eagerness to expose his deception, he also wanted to get Belle away from the depressive gloom that looked to be her living situation.

The drive was quiet as they made their way to the address of the estate sale. The closer they got to the place, the more relief was seen on Belle's face and her shoulders seemed to release all the tension she had been holding. By the time they arrived, the beautiful smile that Belle so often wore was once again back on her face and it made Robby's own chest feel lighter to see it. When they parked, he heard a heavy sigh and she placed a warm hand on his and smiled softly.

'I know I haven't been very good company, I'm sorry.'

His look pleaded with her not to feel that way. Just having her in the seat next to him was more than he had ever dreamed. He longed to see her happy again, so he pulled the notebook (still using the notebook, coward!) and wrote:

'That makes two of us I suppose.' And he smiled at her when she read it, and it made her chuckle at his self depreciation and the whole world seemed right again. She seemed to read in his face his acceptance of wherever she came from. He did not care, it was very true. It only mattered who she was, and that she was giving to him a little of her warmth and light.

He limped back over to her door and he noticed that she glanced a time or two at his unfortunate companion.

'I've never seen you with a cane before-do you wear a brace then, um, at work?' She seemed to redden at her own personal questions. 'Also, you can always tell me to mind my own business-or just roll your eyes at me, both will scold me enough to shut up about it. I am always a little too curious for my own good.' She nibbled at her lip and her words seemed to be echoes of something she had been told many times before. He didn't mind her questions. He wanted to know everything about her, after all, and as such she was entitled to know anything she wanted about him-as much a wonder as that would be.

Not wanting to have the confrontation with the letter he had in his back pocket yet he continued with the notebook and paused to write her an answer that would give her poor lower lips a break.

'I do wear a brace, so that I can have two hands free at work-it's not as comfortable so you have to put up with the full 'Gramps' ensemble today.'

She giggled. 'You're not old-don't let your friend Jeff get to you. I don't mind at all, I want you to be comfortable, so by all means. I was just curious about why you would change it out.'

They both seemed comforted by the answer and he didn't stiffen quite so much this time, when he felt her hand slip into his. He smiled at her shy smile that met him and her blue eyes seemed to dance with new found joy. He had somehow been a small part of that smile and joy and it made his own heart go pitter patter with joy being so close to her.

The estate sale was a success. Not that he bought anything of great value. There was a vase that Belle thought was 'simply adorable' but hadn't been vintage enough for him to try to do something with. However she had been so enamored by it, he put it in his head that he would come back that evening if it wasn't sold and buy it for her, that is if she hadn't come to her senses and told him to forget the whole thing by then.

She asked a million questions and many that required more than just head nods or shakes-making their time spent there quite long, and he loved every minute. She wanted to know how he knew something was valuable, when did he realize that the time spent on restoring an item would make it not worth the purchase, oh and did he happen to know how to restore books? And so many others. He smiled and answered every single one, and her eyes seemed to dance with each answered question. Their clothes may have smelled like the 1980s by the end, but they had very fresh joy bubbling in the both of them. They grabbed a cup of coffee afterwards, and only then-only then did he shakily pull out the letter he had yet to give her.

She saw his shaky nerves before he ever pulled out the letter and her face contoured with concern after all the pleasantness they had shared before. She took the letter and he searched her face pleadingly for any semblance of forgiveness that she might mercifully bestow on him. He expected perhaps a face slap, surely she would have anger, at the least some hurt, but he hadn't counted on-a smile? She seemed genuinely amused as she read it! He had built himself up for the worst at this moment and he let the words he had practiced slide out of his mouth and, 'I'm so sorry, Belle' escaped his lips to confirm the words his letter spoke.

Her grin only grew and she looked intensely at him.

'Can I tell you something?'

He was puzzled.

'Of-Of course' he stuttered, not used to using his voice around her.

She motioned for him to lean closer to her, and she pulled her face up to his ear and whispered.

'I knew the whole time.'

Author's note: She always knew ;) I can't wait to give all the details! I hope you enjoyed that chapter :)

I do not own Once Upon a Time, of course!