I don't own Once Upon A Time
Leaning up against the wall, he knew he would present a sinister figure despite his somewhat short stature. An outcast once again relegated to the alleyways only suited for garbage and ill intent.
As before.
Belle had avoided him for days. The girl might need space after what had transpired between them, Gold fully understood that - but too much space could work against him. While she'd chosen not to join him in the diner, she still traveled the same route. Partly out of the convenience. Partly, he hoped, because she didn't truly want to avoid him.
There she was.
From this vantage point he could see her eyes flick to the windows of the diner, and pause. He wasn't in his usual seat by the window, and she'd noticed. Another look flitted over her face. Relief? Regret? Gold didn't dare to hope. She took a deep breath, which seemed to fortify her, and walked on, not sparing another glance towards the restaurant.
Closer.
Focused on the sidewalk before her, she didn't see him as he left the shadow of the building alley and placed himself on a course to intersect her own. She kept walking, her head down, lost in thoughts he couldn't guess at, but hoped to have revealed to him soon.
Reaching the center of the sidewalk, he stood, waiting until she noticed him – perhaps before she ran directly into him. A few moments later she glanced up, and stopped, a startled look on her face.
"Mr. Gold."
"Belle." He inclined his head towards her. She regarded him for a moment, then – pressing her lips in a hard line – she moved to walk around him. He took a step, once again placing himself in her path.
"I have to get to work." she said in a clipped tone.
"Certainly your boss won't mind if you're just a few minutes late."
"STOP IT!" She shouted at him. He was taken aback at her sudden outburst. "I don't know what kind of games you like to play, Mr. Gold – but I'm done with them." She pushed her arm out at that, her intention to shove past.
Without thinking, his hand shot out, wrapping itself around Belle's wrist. Her eye's once again widened with shock at his action. He pressed his lids together for a moment, cringing. He didn't want to act this way with Belle – but he couldn't let her walk away with the wrong impression.
"Let me go." Her voice was breathy and anxious.
"I can't." And resignation filled him. He had meant to be better than this. Better for her. She didn't deserve the cruel, possessive part of himself that lurked just beneath the surface. Their game had helped with that, but he should have known that wouldn't last forever. Belle took a deep, shaky breath.
"Mr. Gold – we're... friends." her mouth twisted at the word "but I don't have time for someone in my life who just wants to pretend." she leaned in closer to him "I don't want to be toyed with." She made to pull away again, but his grip was firm. "Let go."
"Belle – yes, we've played games." he admitted "But in my defense, up until a day ago you appeared to enjoy it – and you gave no indication it was making you unhappy. And now you're angry with me, without any warning or chance at explanation." he found his own ire growing, with the realization of how true his own words were. "It seems to me, dearie, that you're running away – and perhaps you are not the only wronged party here."
She blinked at him, and stopped pulling away.
"I see."
He finally realized how strong a grip he had on her hand, and released it quickly, flexing the stiffness out of his own fingers that had formed. It was his turn to look at the ground now. She could walk away now, and he wouldn't stop her – but at least he'd said his piece, and managed to keep himself partially in control.
"You're right." Looking up at her face, he could see it was thoughtful – still a bit anxious, but there was a touch of apology there as well. "I'm sorry – I haven't really been thinking about how things look from your side, I just thought..." she sighed, "I've known other men that have lied to me, that have been charming but had other sides to them entirely, and I suppose our... game rather hit a nerve for me. But I shouldn't judge you for the lies of others." She gave a rueful smile, but her words caused his gut to clench - a mix of jealously towards these other men, and guilt that he may indeed be just like them. Oh, he could imagine the indiscretions of former boyfriends and how that might affect her views towards men – that was not one of his failures, but he was misleading her in his character all the same. He didn't deserve Belle. He should allow her to walk away right now. He decided then that when she left he would not stop her, and he would never darken this alleyway again.
But she wasn't walking away.
"Well..." he began
"We should have a proper evening out." she said, sounding decisive. "Go someplace that neither Belle nor Miss French have been." she smiled softly "It will be something of a fresh start."
His throat was dry, but he managed to clear it. She had made a mistake to give him this opening - unfortunately she was completely ignorant of the fact. She had almost been free of him.
"That sounds wonderful."
He doubted he'd be able to let her go a second time.
As it turned out finding a place neither Belle nor Miss French had been turned out to be a rather complicated task in a town as small as Storybrook. They settled for going someplace neither of them had been together, which widened the net significantly. With Granny's out of the question, they settled for another, slightly more formal restaurant near the edge of town – and by town, he meant street. It gave them the ease of a public setting, but he made sure they were seated in the corner to afford them at least a modicum of privacy.
Despite his lapse on the sidewalk during their previous meeting, he was determined to be on his best behavior with Belle. At the very least he would offer her honesty if she asked question about his past – not a freedom he afforded anyone else.
"So, you have a wife and son, and haven't spoken to either of them for 20 years?" Her voice was disbelieving.
"Ex-wife." He ground out.
"Right. Sorry."
"No matter." He forced himself to relax to her line of questioning. Belle was naturally curious, and she had no idea that he'd not spoken about his family for nearly the same amount of time he'd been apart from them.
"If you'd rather we didn't talk about..."
"It's fine." He said in what he was sure was an unconvincing manner.
"Hmm." She looked hesitant for a moment, but her curiosity won out he supposed. "I can understand not wanting to speak to an ex wife for so long... but your son?" She was still looking at him in an apologetic way, sorry for the asking – but he'd given his permission.
"He's better off. I'm not a good man, Belle. And I would make a terrible father." Another word of caution. Eventually, surely, she was going to wise up and leave him to his own once again during this conversation.
"Don't say that... " she reached out her hand towards him, but he didn't return the gesture.
"The truth is, I have no idea where they are."
"What do you mean?"
"She left me, and took my son with her – I don't know where."
"You could hire a private investigator..." she furrowed her brow
"I know. I don't want to know where they are. They're safer that way."
"Mr. Gold..."
"Ewan." He said it quickly, before he could second guess his policy of honesty for the evening, which was turning out to be a painful endeavor.
"Ewan." She repeated the name slowly.
"My name, dearie."
"Yes, but..." He simply raised an eyebrow at her. She sighed. "After all this time, you tell me your name now – are you trying to distract me?"
"Not at all." He certainly was. "You wanted honesty from me, did you not?"
"I do." She reached for his hand again, and he forced himself to allow her to pull his towards the center of the table. "I just don't understand why you seem to think you're some kind of monster."
"You're the only person in town who doesn't realize it." he stated grimly "And forgive me for wanting to keep you ignorant for just a little longer."
Her expression was unfathomable, but she let the subject drop and simply held his hand for the evening as they finished their meal.
The evening hadn't been easy on him. He'd made a lifestyle out of not thinking of his past. Being insulting and cruel to his patrons seemed to beat developing a drinking disorder – then probably doing the former things anyway. Now, however, that the memories had started to flow, it was difficult to shut that door again. So he sat with a bottle of whiskey in his room, staring at the floor as he allowed all his past mistakes to wash over him again.
He'd always been a possessive man. With his property, and with his family. Milah had been unhappy with their life together for a long time, but he'd refused to listen to her, and refused to grant her a divorce. When she disappeared one night with his son, he was livid – it took everything in him not to employ the vast resources at his disposal to track her down and drag her back. It still took self control to not do that very thing, but it was in his son's best interest if he was not in their life. His ex wife's last letter to him had convinced him of that.
Ewan, after you had me you never thought of my needs or the needs of your family. You only wanted to own me, but I need love in my life – and so does Bae. If you have any love in you for him you won't look for us. You'll let him grow up knowing the freedom you never gave me.
He still had the letter. Whenever he thought about finding his son, he would read it and remember. Perhaps, eventually, he would find the strength to let go of Belle, also.
He took another drink.
"And we'll be adding a whole new reading corner to the back of the library once we finish the renovation..." Belle was gesturing to the unfinished walls in the corner, the beginnings of a new expansion that was taking place due mainly to a large anonymous donation that had been recently made to the library. She wasn't fooled in the least of course, and knew exactly whom had made the donation, but continued in the spirit of their previous encounters – telling him that her boss was most pleased with the gift and only wished that she had the chance to personally thank their benefactor.
"I'm sure she'll think of something." he ran his fingers through his hair in an uncharacteristically self conscious gesture.
"Hmm." she considered. "A banner, maybe – one that would hang on the street for everyone to see, thanking our mysterious but private patron who somehow has an extraordinary amount of private funds for a renovation."
"Erm... No." He cleared his throat.
"Maybe not. Perhaps a parade, then?"
"No." He didn't know how else to embellish his answer without falling out of his role.
"You know" she said, smiling "Nobody would believe it was you, anyways." He looked at her nonplussed for a moment before she realized how her statement had carried across. A charmingly embarrassed blush stained her cheeks.
"Wonderful." He replied dryly.
"You know I didn't mean it badly. But you've all but told me you're rotten to everyone on purpose, so nothing I'm saying should be a surprise." She pulled his arm to draw him between a row of shelves "Tell me you realize you don't have to do this, though, Ewan." Her tone was serious "You don't have to buy my affection because you think you have nothing else to offer."
"This place was an eyesore. I'm sure your benefactor is doing himself a favor."
"Well, maybe we can discuss this in my office?" she looked up at him through her lashes, a brow raised. Every time they'd been in her office thus far it had been him operating under a pretense in order to have Belle in a compromising position. He had the distinct feeling that their roles were now switched. He swallowed, unaccustomed to the reversal.
"Lead the way, Miss French."
She did, taking him by the hand to lead him to the frosted window room he'd been having dreams about for the past several nights now. Closing the door, Belle turned to him, pushing him back lightly with the hand against his chest until he felt the back of his legs brush against her desk. He felt a smirk begin to form at the side of his mouth, but struggled to maintain a dignified stance.
"What is the purpose of this, Miss French? I am a busy man."
"Oh, you are definitely about to be a busy man." she all but growled, just before pressing herself full length against him, burying her hand in his hair and captured his lips with her own. He closed his eyes with a low groan, allowing himself to simply drown in the sense of her for a few moments. Her arms around his shoulders, her leg wrapping slightly around his own, her breasts...
Well.
Suffice it to say he was glad for the support of the desk behind him. He allowed it to support his weight a little more fully as Belle- his beautiful, perfect Belle - leaned more of her own weight against him in turn. Placing a hand back on the desk he swept some of her papers onto the floor, but decided keeping things tidy landed somewhere around #791 on the list of things he'd like to be doing at the moment. He leaned his head back, feeling more free at the moment than he had in forever, imprisoned as he was between the desk behind him and the lovely creature in front. It was the most perfect life had been in a long time.
Until someone knocked on the door.
"Damn and double damn!" Belle hissed.
"Tsk. Language Miss French." he leaned forward slightly, licking slightly against the side of her mouth.
Breathing in raggedly, she pulled away, her features a delightful mix of anger and regret at the interruption.
"Excuse me, Belle are you in there?"
"That's one of the renovators..." her voice began to rise briefly in panic at the prospect of being caught in her disheveled state. He looked down ruefully at the front of his pants, his immediate problem drawing attention.
"You should get that, I'll just... tidy up." and he turned around in an exaggerated demonstration of cleaning up the papers he'd strewn about on her desk. He heard her sigh briefly and then the click of her heels as she turned to answer the door.
"Leroy, what can I do for you?"
"Sorry to interrupt, sister..." Gold could tell he sounded curious about his presence in Belle's office, and felt it was a decidedly good idea to keep his back turned to the other man, focusing on straightening the desk in a subtle but quick fashion. "... but the guys need you to tell us where you want the shelves to be so we can start laying the tile..."
"No problem, Leroy." Belle replied, a little over-brightly "I'll be right there. You don't mind waiting for a moment do you, Mr. Gold? I'd really appreciate it if you would. I really want to finish our discussion of your... budget proposal."
He turned back towards her slightly, careful to keep his front facing away from the door. She was standing in the doorway, partially blocking the other man's view of the office.
"Not at all, dearie. I'm sure we're both eager to discuss what we might be able to strip from the... budget."
Belle stared at him half in a warning manner, half amused before she turned and left, closing the door behind her. Gold let out a breath, the letters from Belle's desk gripped in his hand harder than he realized they had been. He let out of soft laughter - he was too old to be caught in these situations, he mused as he smoothed out the letters in his hands. He found himself wondering whether or not the construction worker at all suspected what had been going on here, and found himself daydreaming about them having not stopped at all when the interruption occurred - when the sender's address on the letter caught his eye.
Basil & Associates Private Investigation
He frowned, looking over the envelope. It looked like an average solicitation letter, only private investigation firms rarely sent unsolicited mail that Gold was aware of. Looking through some of the other mail on the desk, he found several similar parcels - all from various agencies. A horrible, sinking feeling came over him.
She couldn't have...she wouldn't...
A few minutes later Belle finally strode back in, a wide grin on her face.
"I told Leroy that he needed to move the furniture again from the back up to the front because I need the far corner taken care of first, I think that will keep them..." her voice faded off when he just stood by the desk. one hand on his cane, the other holding the envelopes.
"What is it?" she frowned.
"Why don't you tell me... dearie?" he tossed the handful of mail to the ground in an almost careless gesture.
"What are you...?" she took a curious step forward, looking down at the mail, then paled. "Ewan, I can explain." she looked back up at him, her eyes frozen in panic.
"Explain what, exactly? About how less than a week after I revealed one of the most private regrets of my life you decide to go behind my back and... what, dig it up even more? Blackmail - is that it?"
"How can you even say that?" Her voice sounded shock and betrayed, which was not fair at all - he was the one who had been betrayed.
"Well you tell me, dearie what other reason could there be? I have to be honest with you - threatening to tell the townsfolk terrible things about me will hardly make a dent in their opinion."
"I want to help you! You have a family out there... you have a son out there who doesn't even know his father."
"...which is for the better." he snarled
"No! You are not a monster, Ewan. I don't know what has happened to make you believe it of yourself but I'm going to show you that you're wrong."
Gold was so angry, he saw red. The hue of her hair, the pale rose of her lips... it all seemed to come into a hyper focus. He stepped forward slowly, his eyes not leaving hers as he leaned forward and whispered into her hair
"Never call me by that name again." He leaned away, looking down his nose at her, maybe for the last time. He would never let her this close again. "You don't know me." He walked past, reaching for the door.
"Then show me!" she nearly shouted. He froze, turning back towards her. She stood, chin out in a courageous stance that made him admire her even through his fury. "Show me what a terrible, horrible monster you are. Show me that I'm wrong and you're right."
He dropped his hand away from the door, turning towards her. His hold on himself was fraying. Years and years of self control and this chit had managed to tear it all from him in a single afternoon. He hated her for it, but some part of him wondered at her power over him. Was he so very weak?
"Show you?"
"If you want me to drop the subject of your family - prove to me that you are a danger and I promise I won't try to find them." A spark of challenge was in her eyes now. He wanted to crush it. He would crush it.
"Let me understand this - you want the town monster to terrorize you?" he allowed sinister amusement to color his voice.
"Yes." She clenched her fists at her side, meeting his gaze.
He paused, appearing to consider her offer, then smiled.
"Deal"
The rope of his self control frayed, and broke. She wanted the monster, then that was exactly what she would get. One day her eyes would reflect the loathing and hatred his wife's eventually had.
It was just as before.