They trust him. Isabelle trusts her son – his son – to work with him. Bailey trusts him to cage the fiery dragon even when damn Moe French is being a git. They trust him to enter over the threshold of their cozy, outdated home and share a meal together.
They trust him, and Gold could feel a faint sense of hope of reuniting with his small, fragmented family slowly warming his dark, rotten heart.
Bailey is so like himself to Gold's delight - with the exception of one thing. Baelfire was never involved in fights. There was no cause for it, even with a father as the town coward. No one ever did anything physical to show their distain towards them, only scornful looks and whispering jeers behind their backs. The only true bullies they ever encountered were men of high power, who captained ships and armies, who stole women and children with greedy hands.
In his inner being, Baelfire had a fighter's heart. It only now is being coaxed out to use. That's what makes him so much like Belle.
Isabelle.
His brave, little Belle who sacrificed everything just short of her own life to save what was precious to her. Being led away to secret places by a monster wearing crocodile skin and a jagged smile. Isabelle was the embodiment of brave just like his Belle, but there was a sharpness about her in this new world. Where the sweet smiles and glittering blue eyes were – and still are, they only need to be coaxed out - is now an iron shield and a double-edged sword, and Gold had to admit he rather liked the new fierceness.
One day the curse would break and they'd remember him. There was a part of Gold that dreaded when that day would come. Both partings involved stabbing their loving hearts, destroying any trust or hope they had of ever having a tear-soaked reunion. What would they think of him, after remembering who they truly were and knowing how he slithered into their lives while they were unaware?
The day would come, but Gold stored the painful assumption in a drawer in the back of his mind, locked away with iron chains and a lost key. For now, he relished in the fact that his son and True Love were in his life again, whether they remembered him or not.
"Mr. Gold" Bailey's voice cut through the lingering silence. Gold glanced up from the tedious task of repairing a strange looking pair of spectacles. The boy wore a mischievous little smirk, leaning both elbows on the glass counter.
"Yes, son?"
"Do you like my Mom?"
"Of course." The boy knew better. "She's a lovely lady."
"But do you like her?" Bailey emphasized his meaning with a slight tilt of the head and a glint in his eye that sent Gold back to a time of morning fishing trips and innocent laughter when it was just him and his boy and they were each other's world.
Gold shook himself clear of the past, setting down his tools, pushing away the magnifying glass, and leaned forward to examine the boy's face closer. "Bailey, are asking what I think you're asking?"
"I saw you kiss Mama on the cheek the other night" Bailey replied, hintingly. The boy is right to make the assumption. Gold wasn't just interested in Isabelle – his Belle. He'd loved her for so long, but that information needed to be kept under lock and key.
"And what if I am?" Gold said, reserved, but a challenge gleamed in his eyes.
"I need to know." Bailey seemed so grown up, standing with a straight back and protective tone filtering into his voice. "She is my Mom. The last 3 guys she dated didn't end well, because they were all jerks. I mean, I thought you were a jerk too before I got to know you, but I actually like you."
Gold lowered his gaze for a moment, collecting his thoughts that had suddenly turned guilty. But why the guilt when for 28 years he did not know who they truly were or who he even was. He was making up for all the threats and malevolent glares he dish out when he was just Mr. Gold, owner of half the town.
"Glad to have made a good impression" Mr. Gold murmured. "Even if I were to be interested in your Mother, there is a slim chance she'd return the affections."
Bailey made a dismissive snorting sound. "She's getting used to you," he affirmed with all the confidence in his water-colored world.
Gold's expression screamed contempt. "Real encouraging, Bailey." He grabbed up the delicate tools to begin repair work again, completely ignoring the boy's grin.
Bailey shifted away from the glass counter, and Gold assumed the boy picked back up where he'd been working.
"My first soccer game is this Saturday. I'd really like for you to come."
Mr. Gold sighed. How could he deny his heart and soul? "Then I'll be there."
He knew there'd be stares of disbelief and whispers from ear to ear, but Gold paid no mind as he traipsed onto the sidelines of the soccer field as if it were his backyard. Let the people of this town think what they may. There were only two people here who mattered.
He spotted Isabelle near the goal line perched in a portable fold-up chair. Another empty chair sat next to hers. Gold hoped the boy had warned her of the invitation, that he wasn't about to make a fool of himself, though he'd slyly cover the mistake with a grand explanation. There was no need. The cheerful smile Isabelle provided when she saw him was answer enough.
"Mr. Gold, you made it" she said, her sincerity calming the tension Gold didn't know he'd been harboring since he'd started to the soccer field. She gestured to the empty seat, "I brought a chair for you."
"Thank you, Miss French." He lowered into the folding chair, grimacing as the seat sank low at his weight. He was a strange sight to see, indeed. Custom tailored suit, expensive cane standing erect in his weathered hands. He was definitely the only person dressed for business on the sidelines. "I take it you agreed to this?"
"Bailey wanted you here" Isabelle answered, easily, leaning closer to speak to him. Gold intentionally drew closer to her as she continued, "My father had to step in to help raise him all these years and I'm thankful for that, but I think it's good for Bailey to have another male figure to look up to as well. You were the last person in town I would have picked, but-." He would have taken her seriously and maybe she was to a degree, but the wicked little smirk playing on her lips told him otherwise.
Gold scanned the field, eyes falling on a looming figure across from them. Moe stood there, staring intensely, unyielding. "Your father did not take the news of my coming well."
Isabelle snorted and it reminded him so much of Bailey's dismissive sound he'd give when he thought something was no big deal. The more time he spent with them both, the more they seemed as real mother and son, which was heartening and frightening at the same time. "Don't mind him. He doesn't share well."
"He is the last person who would bother me," he informed with practiced ease and the wave of his hand, clipping his tongue from saying what he really desired to say.
The referee blew the whistle as the game began. Gold finally caught sight of Bailey in his black and neon green uniform as he sprinted across the field. Baelfire had loved playing the football game in the old world, and Gold could see the images from long, long ago playing on the borders of his consciousness. He watched, amused, as Isabelle jumped to her feet, cheering, her dark ponytail bouncing, every time Bailey's team made a goal. He merely clapped, though the need to cheer along with Isabelle was tempting.
In the end, Bailey's team lost by only a few points. He waved over at Isabelle and Mr. Gold, acknowledging he was going to talk with his grandfather before he headed out. Isabelle moved to fold up the chairs, Gold helping her replace them in their packs.
"You and your father have done a good job raising your boy." Gold hated that one was Moe French, but the boy seemed to love the man and talked highly of him.
Isabelle didn't hide her surprise at the compliment. "Thank you, Mr. Gold." Her gaze met the grassy ground for a beat, nibbling on her bottom lip, and he could tell she was trying to resolve herself to an arduous decision. "I always take Bailey for ice cream after every game. Would you like to join us?"
Isabelle's eyes connected with his, and she gave him an encouraging smile. How could he pass up the opportunity? Every minute with them was a blessing and a curse, but he'd rather deal with the curse if that meant he could be near either of them. "Yes, I'll join you."