7

An Ordinary Hero, An Extraordinary Surprise

Mr. Gold found himself awake the next morning at an ungodly hour, around five AM, though he wasn't sick like he had been yesterday morning. He was simply . . . restless and unable to sleep. So he decided to get up and make himself some coffee, and left Belle happily dreaming in their bed. He put on his soft moosehide slippers, as the floor in the kitchenette was chilly, and without his cane to betray his movements, walked silently into the small kitchenette and found the coffeepot soaking in the sink. Though the suite came, as all hotel rooms did here, with housekeeping services, Gold had requested they not disturb his family, and they would see to their own needs while they were here. The last thing any of them needed was someone overhearing something odd and starting rumors about magic. This way they'd be thought of either as eccentric or thoughtful or both.

He rinsed out the pot and filled it with water, then carefully lined the basket with a filter and scooped in the coffee. He'd learned how to brew a good pot of coffee from Alice, when they had first come to this world and Alina was a harum-scarum sixteen-month old just learning to scamper.

As the coffee began to perk, Gold turned to get the creamer from the small refrigerator, the Plaza provided real creamer for coffee, as well as sugar, Splenda, and Equal.

He set the creamer on the counter, grabbed a spoon and a mug from inside the cabinet and went to sit down at the little table while the coffee finished brewing. Dawn's light was just beginning to emerge through the window, and the sun's rays danced across the floor. Rumple squinted slightly as he walked over to the table and when he opened his eyes fully, he saw someone had joined him.

"Alina," he said softly. "What are you doing up so early, dearie? You feeling okay?"

His daughter nodded, her mouth curving in a sweet smile, one reminiscent of her mother's. "I'm fine, Papa. I just . . . wasn't sleepy anymore."

"Neither was I," he admitted, sitting next to her. "But you always were an early riser."

"Like you," she said, and brushed strands of her chestnut hair out of her eyes. She was wearing a long nightshirt with kittens on it that said Play, Love, Meow. Her feet were bare, and tucked up beneath her on the chair.

"Sometimes," he said. His gaze roamed fondly over her, his miracle child, this tangible result of true love, of Belle's steadfast love for a beast, and a beast's true love for the beauty that had claimed his heart, all unknowing. A beauty just like her mother, with her father's magic, he thought.

"How's your leg?" she asked then.

His hand went automatically to rub it, as it was usually stiff in the mornings, only to recall that it would never be so again, and the reason for it was sitting next to him. "It's fine, sweetheart. Just fine."

"Then . . . you're not mad that I healed you?"

"No, of course not. Alina, I was never really angry . . . just afraid that you'd get yourself killed trying to help me. If anything ever happened to you . . . I would have died right there. I'm sorry I yelled at you . . . and sorry I forgot to thank you for this," he patted his newly healed leg.

"Then you don't mind?"

He shook his head. "Why would you think that?"

"Because you could have healed yourself once magic came back to Storybrooke, but you never did. Why?"

"I . . . It's complicated, dearie. My leg . . . wasn't hurt in any car accident, as you know. And it served as a reminder . . . of who I once was . . . the cowardly spinner who could make deals, but never be a hero, who ran away just like his father."

"You never were, Papa," Alina stated firmly. "If you'd fought then, you'd have died, and never come home to Bae . . . never lived to meet Mama and I'd have never been born. I know, I read the Book. You made the right choice then . . . you weren't a coward to leave . . . you were smart. Milah was the coward, for not welcoming you home and seeing that a live husband was better than a dead hero. And so was everybody else, for thinking fighting in a war makes you brave. Making hard choices makes you brave, and you made the hardest choice of all. You did something none of the others had the guts to. You stood up for what you believed in. And that's real bravery."

Rumple stared at her in astonishment. "That's what you think of me? Even after all I've done?"

"Papa, whatever you've done is past. You can't change it, all you can do is accept it, learn from it, and go on. You might have been the Dark One, but the Dark One didn't raise me. Mr. Gold did. And that means everything to me. You might have been cursed, but you never forgot me, you were always there for me, and you didn't have to be, you could have taken the easy way out, like a lot of rich folks do, and just let Alice watch me all the time. And that means you really loved me, and no coward loves like that, Papa. A coward loves himself first and anybody else second. You don't need to fight in a stupid war to prove you're a hero. You've always been mine, and you always will be, because you weren't afraid to love me, even when you thought Mama was dead. You could have hated me, because she was gone and I wasn't, or blamed me, like Maurice does, if you were a different kind of person, you would've. But you didn't, you loved me even when it hurt, and whenever I need you, there you are. That's the papa I know. That's a real hero, not some idiot who killed ten ogres."

Rumple was astonished and humbled at her words, spoken so plainly and yet with such conviction that it brought tears to his eyes. "Alina, dearie, you're . . . incredible. Just like your mother, you see something in me that I never would have, not in a thousand years."

"That's because you've forgotten how to look. You told me once during a lesson that you have to forget what you think you know and just believe. Well, you need to forget what you think you know, Papa, and just believe in yourself. I do. I always have. Because you taught me how."

"Then maybe . . . I should take my own advice," he chuckled.

"Yeah, maybe you should."

He moved then and hugged her to him, holding her close. "I love you, my darling girl."

"Love you too," she said, snuggling into his arms, and for a moment they were as they had always been, just the two of them, an ordinary hero and the little girl who believed in him.

Page~*~*~*~*~Break

After his second cup of coffee, Rumple called the hotel concierge and made a special request for that afternoon, while Alina went to take a shower and get dressed. Last night, they had all agreed to go back to the museum to finish going through some more exhibits, and in the afternoon split up for awhile to do a few things in small groups. Snow, David, and Regina wanted to visit Times Square, while Bae, Emma, Henry, and Alina wanted to see Ellis Island. Rumple had already made plans with Belle for a special outing, for Belle had a surprise she wished to share with him, and they were going to spend the afternoon in Central Park, part of it going on a carriage ride through some historic sections nearby, and the rest having a picnic supper together.

After the museum, they all split up, and Gold and Belle took the subway back to the hotel, where they changed and Gold picked up the picnic basket the Plaza staff had made for them. Belle had changed into a pretty golden flowing knit dress and some white sandals, with a shawl he had knitted for her in a pretty pattern of linked circles of softest mohair, dyed a striking sapphire blue, like her eyes. She wore some hammered gold earrings, an eternity knot pendant, and her wedding band. She carried a small purse that matched the shawl.

"You look absolutely incredible, dearie," he said when he saw her standing by the couch.

"And so do you," she said.

He was wearing a pearl gray Armani jacket and trousers with his usual Gucci loafers, and his shirt was nearly the same shade of blue as her shawl, and his tie was his favorite Ferragamo gold satin one. His only jewelry was his cufflinks and his wedding band. The picnic basket was waiting at the front desk for them, and he held out his arm to Belle. "All set? Then let's go."

Belle put her arm in his, smiling. "I feel like this is a first date. Isn't that silly?"

"Well, no. It sort of is . . . since the curse broke and all."

Together they walked out of the suite and to the elevator, found the picnic basket waiting for them, as well as a cab to take them to Central Park.

Rumple let Belle pick the horse and carriage they'd be using. She chose a high-stepping Standardbred with a dark coat and a white star in the middle of his forehead, who his driver, a young man called Joe, said was fiery yet gentle and his name was Black Beauty, like the horse in the famous book. The carriage was older than some of the others, but well cared for, with red leather seats and a gleaming gray exterior with polished brass trimmings.

"What a beautiful horse!" Belle said, petting his nose. "I've read that book!"

"She reads a lot of books," Gold laughed. "She's a librarian."

Joe grinned. "Me too. I always carry one on me, in case business is slow. How about you, sir?"

"Oh, I read too. When I'm not in my shop. I'm a pawnbroker, among other things."

"Where are you from, if you don't mind my asking?"

"We're from Maine," Belle replied.

"A little town along the coast," Gold supplied.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr.-"

"Gold. And this is my wife, Belle."

"Seriously? That's awesome!" Joe said. He shook their hands. "Okay, Mr. and Mrs. Gold, climb right on up here and I'll put your basket in the back and we'll get started."

Rumple helped Belle into the carriage first, then he climbed in, easily now that his leg was no longer lame. Joe climbed up to the coachman's seat, and shook the reins, clicking his tongue and saying, "Hup, Beauty!"

The black horse walked calmly through the somewhat crowded streets, unfazed by the cars, noise, and people rushing to and fro. Joe took them all about the historic district and told them lively stories about the buildings and other landmarks and gave them time to take pictures and enjoy the scenery together. He also explained that a lot of structures had been damaged due to Superstorm Sandy and because of the massive costs to repair what the storm had destroyed, some of the buildings might never be repaired and need to be torn down.

"Oh, that's such a shame!" Belle said.

Gold nudged her and whispered, "Maybe not, dearie. I'll make a donation."

"You'd do that, Rum?"

"Why not? I have enough money, I might as well use some of it for something good. And preserving history is always good," he said, and put an arm around her.

Joe took them around in a slow loop and then back to Central Park, where he stopped the carriage and said, "You can eat over there, Mr. Gold, under those pretty maple trees beside the pond," he indicated a pretty spot, half surrounded by low lying hedges sculpted by a dedicated gardener to look like fantastic beasts. On the pond floated some lily pads and pink water lilies and some mallards swam in and out of them.

"That's perfect," Gold exclaimed. "Will you wait here for us? I'll pay you extra."

"Sure, and you don't have to—" Joe began.

Gold shoved a bill into his hand. "Here. Go buy yourself some lunch and something for Beauty too." Then he turned to help Belle down and took the basket from the back and started walking over to the spot Joe had indicated, with Belle beside him.

The carriage driver went to shove the bill in his pocket, thinking it was a ten and happened to glance down at it. "Holy crap! He just tipped me a hundred dollars!" he gasped. "I could buy food for a month on this. Maybe it's a mistake?" he said to Beauty. He jumped down from his box and walked over to where Gold and Belle were spreading out a blanket with the Plaze logo on it. "Umm . . . Mr. Gold, I think you . . . err . . . gave me too much . . ."

The pawnbroker looked up and said, "No, I didn't. I gave you what you earned, lad. Now go and buy yourself some lunch, okay?"

"I . . . thank you! Thanks a lot!" Joe grinned and waved, then went across the street to a deli he knew of, still dumbstruck by the generosity of this stranger from Maine.

"Have a seat, Belle, and let me see what we've got in here," Rumple said, kneeling to unpack the picnic basket. Inside he found a card that read, Have a wonderful day! Sandwiches and salads made by Carnegie Deli, desserts by Ferrara's. Drinks on the house—compliments of the Plaza. He took out several sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, and said, "Here's some Black Forest ham and Alpine Swiss on sourdough bread and this one's smoked turkey with Provolone and bacon on focaccia, that's a type of Italian flatbread." Each sandwich has tomatoes and Romaine lettuce on them as well as an herb mayonnaise. "What else do we have?"

He found huge slices of Kosher dill pickles, a container of potato salad, another of macaroni salad, and for dessert there were cannolis from Ferrara's. There were also two bottles each of Pellegrino sparkling sodas, one tangerine mango and the other pomegranate strawberry. There were also plastic plates that looked almost like china and plastic forks and spoons that looked almost real, as well as thick linen napkins with the Plaza logo.

"This all looks so delicious!" Belle exclaimed. "And these sandwiches are huge! Want to split one?"

"Okay. We'll split one each," he said, and handed her half a ham and cheese while he took a turkey.

They portioned out the salads and pickles, leaving the cannolis inside the basket for later.

Belle took a pomegranate soda and gave the tangerine one to Rumple. They clinked their bottles together. "To my wonderful husband! Thanks for everything, Rumple!"

"To my exquisite wife! For putting up with me," he returned.

Then they drank, savoring the tart and sweet flavor of the soda, which refreshed them in the heat of the afternoon.

Belle eyed him over the top of her soda. "Rumple, I don't 'put up' with you. I love you, and every moment I spend with you is special and magical."

"I love you too, sweetheart, and every moment I spend with you, I am truly blessed," he said sincerely.

"Wait until I tell you my surprise," she said. "I think you're going to love it. But for now, let's eat, because I'm starving."

The sandwiches were incredible, bursting with flavor, with just the right amount of everything on them. So were the salads and Rumple fed Belle half a pickle and she fed the other half to him, making sure his napkin was tucked into place so pickle juice didn't get on his suit.

They each had a quarter of the other half of each other's sandwich, and fed each other bites, grinning like silly children as they playfully nibbled each other's fingers. Then Rumple took a cannoli out of the basket and said, "Here's the sweetest thing in here . . . except for you."

"Oh, Rumple! I can't . . ." Belle lifted a hand.

"One bite. Come on, you know you want to," he teased, waving it in front of her nose.

"Okay. Just one bite," she agreed and took a bite. Then she sighed in rapture.

"Good?"

She took the other half and said, "Now you," and shoved it in his mouth.

"Mmm . . . God!" he groaned.

She leaned over and purred, "You know . . . you have cream . . . right here," and she kissed his nose. Then she moved lower, and their lips met, and she was kissing him as if he were the last man on earth, her lips tasting of sweet cream and fiery passion that sent shock waves through him.

He clasped her to him, losing himself in the sensations she conjured in him, kissing her back with shared passion, giving to her all that he was, sharing with her that secret part of himself that he only allowed her to see, because he trusted her implicitly to never hurt him the way Milah and Cora had. Belle would never play games with his heart, never be carelessly cruel and fling it aside, she cherished it and him the way no woman ever had. Or ever would.

When the kiss ended, Belle looked up and giggled softly. "Rumple . . . we have an audience."

Blinking, he looked around . . . to see a row of ducks standing just beyond the picnic blanket, eyeing the remains of their lunch hopefully.

One of them quacked at him, and Belle chuckled. "Shall we?" she queried.

Together they picked up the crusts of their sandwiches and threw the crumbs to the ducks, who gobbled them down, jostling each other and quacking indignantly for the pieces.

Gold dusted his hands off and then waved at them. "That's all, folks! Now go bother someone else with more food."

The ducks honked at him, then scattered, flying back over to the lake.

He then resumed leisurely kissing his wife, halting only when the haunting arias of a string quartet reached his ears. "What's that?"

"I think . . . it's coming from over there," Belle indicated somewhere to the west beyond the hedge.

"Let's go and see," he said, drawing her to her feet, his eyes sparkling like a mischievous child's.

They slipped through a gap in the hedge to see a small string quartet consisting of two violins, a cello, and a guitar playing classical music while some people listened and a few danced on the lush green grass.

Belle listened to the music, which reminded her a lot of the sort they had played a formal parties in her father's palace, and turned to Rumple and said, "Do you know how to waltz, Mr. Gold?"

"It's been a long time, but yes, I still remember how," he answered, recalling a lifetime ago in his castle, when he'd waltzed with Belle across the drawing room floor to the sound of invisible violins. "And I don't have to worry about falling on my face like an idiot thanks to Alina."

They stepped out on the green just as the musicians began to play a standard rendition of a waltz. A few of those watching twirled about slowly, but it was clear that they didn't know the traditional dance.

Rumple gazed at Belle. "Shall we dance, dearie? And show these kids how it's done?"

Belle grinned up at him. "Why not? If you're sure, Rumple?"

He nodded, and swept her into a slow glide as they moved in a graceful tandem across the grass, his newly healed leg enabling him to twirl lightly about in a circle, holding Belle close.

Belle allowed him to lead, matching his steps with her own, delighting in his newfound prowess. Though it had been a long time since she had danced anything, she found she still remembered how to move, her body so attuned to Rumple's that it seemed like they were one person spinning around and around.

The other couples soon halted to watch the well-dressed man and his lady dance, their movements so finely tuned, like a Stradivarius violin, poised, powerful, and passionate.

"Who are they?"

"Must be professionals, look at how they go. Christ, that guy's as old as my dad and he dances better than I do!" remarked a college student enviously.

"They're just amazing! And she's so hot I'm on fire!" remarked another young man.

"That guy might be as old as your dad, Chris, but he's way way cooler!" whispered his girlfriend. "It's like that Justin Timberlake song—he's bringin' sexy back."

"Damn straight!" agreed her girlfriend, making their dates pout, and wish they knew how the hell to do whatever dance the guy in the Armani suit was doing.

Belle twirled away from Rumple for three heartbeats, connected to him by a single clasped hand, smiling at him seductively.

He winked at her, giving her a beckon with a finger, and she twirled lazily back into his arms.

He gave her a casual dip, then spun around, moving easily in the measured swan-like glide the dance called for, all of his awkwardness vanished as his healed leg took his weight without a twinge, and he thrilled to the feel of his beloved in his arms, her heart beating in time with his own.

Belle curled an arm about his waist, loving the feel of his sinewy strength, and the way he held her, the tips of his fingers sending a scorching heat through her, his mouth curled in that devilish sexy smirk she loved.

Finally, the music ended with a flourish, and Belle clasped close in Rumple's arms, her heart in her eyes and her face aglow with love.

He smiled down at her, his brown eyes filled with an endless devotion, love transforming his face from ordinary to extraordinary, in a single heartbeat. "Not bad, huh, dearie?" he crooned.

Belle shook her head. "Rum, you're such a closet romantic."

"Better late than never," he quipped.

The couples watching applauded and a few started to approach them, but Rumple drew Belle back around the hedge and they gathered up the picnic things and headed back to where Joe had parked the carriage and Beauty dozed in the afternoon sun while his master read All Creatures Great and Small.

"Hey, back already," he said when he spotted the couple. "How was the picnic?"

"It was great!" Belle said, as she climbed into the carriage, patting her purse, which she had left inside the picnic basket when they danced. "Joe, could you . . . find us a spot with a view somewhere nearby? Just something pretty and . . . sort of elegant?"

"Sure I can, Mrs. Gold," Joe answered. He clicked to Beauty and the horse awoke and began to trot along the avenue.

Rumple eyed Belle curiously. "Why do we need a spot like that?"

"It's ambiance," she replied mysteriously. "For my surprise."

"What kind of surprise is it?" he asked, sounding insatiably curious, like a child just before opening Christmas presents.

"You'll see."

"Will I like it?"

"I hope so," she replied.

After about five minutes, Joe halted the carriage and Belle looked about. They had gone around half the park, and the spot Joe had picked overlooked the pond, with deep evergreens and willows, the sunlight sparkling upon the placid water and a bronze statue of a horseman off to one side with impatients about it in a rainbow splashes of color.

Belle glanced around and murmured, "Perfect," then she opened her purse and withdrew a small gold box with a small bow on it. "For you, Rumple."

He took it. "Belle, what is this? It's not my birthday."

"I know. Just open it, okay?"

Rumple undid the ribbon and carefully removed the lid. Nestled among crinkled pastel blue and pink tissue was a pair of tiny yellow . . . booties?

He picked one up and stared at it. "Okay . . . and you gave me these because . . .?"

"Take a guess."

"Because . . ." at first he went blank. Then it came to him, all in a rush and, he gasped. "No! You mean . . .?"

She clasped his hands in hers. "Rumple, you're going to be a papa again. I'm pregnant!"

He was speechless. Of all the things she could have said or done, he had never expected those words to come out of her mouth. "Belle . . . I . . . we're having a baby?"

"Yes! You know how I started feeling kind of tired and out of sorts about two months ago? Well, I just chalked it up to . . . err . . . stress and whatnot . . . but then, after we got here, I started feeling sort of . . .queasy in the morning after I ate and I thought it was the food, that it was a little too rich . . . I asked Emma what was a good thing to calm down a queasy stomach and then she asked me a few questions and while you were all in the museum gift shop, she took me to a pharmacy nearby and I got one of those First Response tests . . . you know what they are?"

He nodded. "And?"

"And . . . it was positive. Look!" She fumbled in her purse, and pulled out a tissue wrapped object.

Rumple just stared down at the white plastic meter with the pink plus sign. "Oh . . . I'm . . . going to be a papa . . . and you're going to be a mama . . ."

"And this time you won't be separated from me . . . you'll be able to be there for everything . . ."

"That's right . . ." he whispered, as the realization hit him smack in the face. "I'll be able to see it all . . . our baby growing in you . . . every day . . ."

"We'll do it together this time . . . you and me . . ." Belle said excitedly. "Are you happy, Rumple?"

"Happy?" he repeated, sounding dazed. "Belle, I' m . . . ecstatic!" His eyes blurry with tears from this unexpected gift, he clasped the knitted bootie in one hand and drew Belle to him with the other, kissing her breathless.

Joe turned around and said, "Hey, everything all right back there?"

Rumple turned, waving the little bootie. "Everything's wonderful! Joe, we're having a baby!"

"Wow! That's great, Mr. Gold. Congratulations!" He pumped Gold's hand enthusiastically. "Is it your first?"

"Second," Belle said, grinning. "But we thought . . . I might not be able to . . . have another . . . so this is like . . ."

"A miracle," Gold said reverently. He knew he was grinning like a fool but he didn't care. Belle was having his baby . . . and it was the best present ever.

"I can't wait to tell the rest of the family," Belle said, squeezing Rumple's hand.

"I just hope they don't pass out," Gold said, chuckling. He tucked the bootie back in the box, marveling that he hadn't passed out.

"Then I'd best get you two back to the Plaza, so you can celebrate," said Joe, and he shook the reins and called, "Giddyup, Beauty!" and the black horse snorted and tossed his head, trotting along at a good clip until they reached the hotel. When they pulled up, both men helped Belle down, then Joe handed Gold the basket.

As he did so, Gold pressed another hundred into his hand. "Here. Go buy some books."

The younger man gaped at him. "Aww, Mr. Gold, I can't take this . . .!"

Gold closed his hand firmly over it. "Yes, you can, lad. Take it and find your own happy ending. Like I just did."

"He's something else," Joe said to Belle.

"It's why I married him," she laughed.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Gold . . . and thanks again!" Joe said, and he tipped his cap to them before getting back in his rig and driving off, his hand in his pocket where the two hundred dollar bills rested. With those two for parents, that was going to be one lucky baby, he thought, whistling as he turned down Madison Avenue.

Rumple escorted Belle inside, still trying to process the extraordinary surprise he'd been given . . . and wondering just how the rest of the family was going to react to this unexpected news.

A/N: Hope this satisfied all my Rumbelle fans out there! Was it romantic enough for you?

Oh, and what are you hoping the baby will be?

If you'd like, vote in the poll on my profile!

Also, if any of you have forgotten the AU version of Rumple's past (which is NOT like the show's) just re-read chapter 7 of the Gold Standard, called Remember, Remember.