A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and followed and favorited! It really means a lot to me, and your patience is incredible! I hope this chapter was worth the wait and you enjoy it! Cheers! :)

She was shivering, that much was for certain, and it was dark and cold out. Moments were ticking by both too slowly and too quickly at the same time. Hypersensitive to everything going on around her, the whistles of wind made her jump out of her skin, looking for a sign of a person, or the source of the rustle of her coat around her thighs.

Only her fears motivated her imagination, footsteps of passersby who weren't even looking for the club, let alone a lone bunny in the alleyway made her heart pound in her chest. Reaching in her pocket, Belle anxiously rolled a nickel in between her fingers, letting her mind wander.

If Gold didn't come, Belle was unsure of what she was to think.

Maybe he didn't want to speak to her, maybe he thought she wasn't worth the time – they hadn't exactly parted on good terms, but still. He had seemed concerned enough, he had wanted to talk to her…

Biting her lip hard enough to taste the metallic tang of her own blood, Belle was ripped out of her thoughts by an uneven sound that didn't immediately register. Her eyes, having been glazed over, struggled to focus for a moment and she blinked rapidly, adjusting back to the dark light and shadows of the alleyway.

Before she knew it, she was pressed against the wall of the club, and breathing heavily. She closed her eyes, her heart slamming against her ribcage when she felt lips press against hers.

Blue eyes shot open and once Belle caught a glimpse of the whispy, brown-grey hair and tasted whiskey on his breath, she slumped down, her eyes closing and returning the kiss with ferocity. It appeared there had been no reason to think he didn't want to see her, especially as his hand sought her waist and squeezed at her hip, prompting Belle to grab his lapel and pull him against her. There was no art or skill behind this, just the mad dash for lips and teeth and tongues, Belle was certain she'd need to redo her face as they breathlessly parted.

"Gold?" Belle panted, running her hands down his front, as though she was checking to make sure it was really him, and he did the same, his hand travelling up from her hip, over her arm, and then her neck and finally her cheek. He nodded, leaning his forehead near her temple, breathing just as hard as she was – she was certain, even through the layers of his coat and suit, she could feel his heart thrumming as well.

He pressed a kiss to the shell of her ear, sending a tingly, shiver down her back and Belle pulled him closer, attempting to turn her head. She missed him, she realized all too quickly, and it made her stomach contract, lungs beg for air, and an overwhelming ache fill her. "Later," he breathed, "There will be time for that later," he assured her, curling strands of her hair around his gloved finger. "What's wrong, Belle?"

It instantly reminded her that yes, there was a purpose for this, and it was not just to sneak a grade school make out behind the gymnasium. Taking a deep breath, Belle got a hold of herself and closed her eyes, trying to brace herself, "They know."

A tense moment passed between them, Gold tugging slightly on her curl, as though his fist seized shut. "How do you know?"

It was at this moment, Belle was able to push him back, still gripping to his coat. "A man named Glass, he came to the club, he had a car – like yours," Gold cursed under his breath. It didn't look like he knew what to do; he stopped playing with her hair and his hand shook, looking for a place to settle. Belle tilted her head upward, meeting his eyes; "He took me to a house."

"Lattantio," Gold hissed, looking at Belle for confirmation. She nodded and he cursed again. Suddenly, he looked frantic, pulling at her waist, "Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" he practically growled – a fire of sorts behind his eyes, bright enough to see even here.

She shook her head, "Nothing terrible," she thought of the blows she endured on the way up, the names, and the threats, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. "I have to stay away," she reached up and touched his cheek.

Words were apparently unnecessary. Gold kissed her again, so fiercely it was like she was being claimed, marked, and Belle's knees quaked with ever sweep of his lips and swipe of his tongue. He swallowed every moan and whimper that bubbled up from the pit of her stomach, and once again, they were pressed together, barely able to breathe while they shivered from the heat of their kisses in contrast to the cold wind. "I can protect you," Gold promised, pressing heated little kisses to her jaw, her ear…

And it was seductive.

As much as his kisses, his words could weave a spell that The idea of being protected and taking her chances, that was a thought she was almost moved to agree with. But, she couldn't. She reached up, running her hands through his hair, scratching her nails against his scalp so a steady, pleased hum vibrated against her collarbone. But, she started to pull, and he looked up, glassy and confused. "Robert…" she muttered, shaking her head, "You can't."

"I can," his grip tightened on her coat, "I know them – I know they're not going to do anything to you."

"You can't know that," Belle bit her lip, trying to be strong despite him. "No one can… except them… the only way to make sure of it is to stay away." She swallowed hard; hoping he wouldn't press too hard, break down her defenses and instincts for preservation. "Robert…"

"Gold," he cut her off, potentially for the use of his first name twice, and more than likely also for disagreeing with his idea about what should be happening. "Belle, you can't believe that," he growled into her ear, "if I'm wrong, you'll have exclusive rights to an I told you so," he chuckled against her cheek, his slightly stubbly cheek rubbing against hers.

As much as she would have liked to stay and talk about this, she knew it was getting close and she'd have to go back inside to keep working. "I have to go," she whispered, reticent to pull away, and he was even less likely to give her up, hand still fisted in her coat, "Work," she implored, pressing his fingers with her own, and like a sudden spring on a lock, he let go.

"Meet me," he cleared his throat, but his voice remained husky. "Tonight – anywhere. After the club closes." It was desperate, she could see that, and Belle bit her lip. This wasn't a game, and Belle wasn't sure how much she was willing to risk.

But, maybe one risk… maybe that was tempting fate, but Belle had never let anyone else decide hers before now, and she certainly wouldn't now either. "Alright," she conceded. "But, they're probably watching both of our places…" she bit her lip, searching his face for an answer to that particular problem.

"The Sheraton-Blackstone," he said hurriedly. Belle had heard of it – exclusive, expensive… He must have sensed her anxiety because he pressed a very quick kiss to her lips, "It'll be under the name Reggie. Please, be there."

Belle nodded quickly, "Alright – just… I have to go," another quick kiss, as though she needed any more reasons to stay in this freezing cold alley. "Tonight. I'll see you there."

He nodded, letting his hand drop and Belle smiled, trying to be accommodating, but also pull away. It hurt, she wanted to stay, back pressed against the brick, hands searching frantically, hurried kisses – it was all so comforting… she could do that for hours…

Except she couldn't – not with the club waiting on her and fifteen minutes probably right about to pass. "Tonight," she echoed again, wiggling her fingers at him with a playful wave, and turned to disappear through the doorway that would lead back up to the dressing room. She was strong enough to avoid glancing back, even though she desperately wanted to, and her stomach was still flipping over itself, she ran up the stairs and away.

Belle couldn't believe that when she got back into the dressing just what time the clock read. She was so late from her break. Rushing around the dressing room, she tried to fix her hair and make-up while simultaneously slipping on her shoes. She cringed as her toes pinched, realizing that in her haste she put each shoe on the very wrong foot… And where was her tray?

Cursing to herself, she haphazardly fixed her lipstick and switched shoes – trying to move as quickly as possible. If Regina noticed, if anyone noticed, she would be in so much trouble… it was bad enough she'd been on thin ice recently anyway. Belle actually found herself cursing, something she did not actually do all that often to get back to her tray… wherever it was…

"Bunny Belle!" a shrill voice called out, apparently very cross with her.

Belle looked up and gasped. Charlotte! She had totally forgotten. She had thrown her tray at her. If her cheeks weren't already windswept and red, she'd have been blushing madly. "Bunny Charlotte, I am so, so, so sorry!" she said apologetically. Charlotte might have had friends at the club, but Belle was certainly not first on her list. This was not going to do much for their relationship.

"You left me with this," she swung the tray and sighed while rolling her eyes, "Twenty five minutes ago." Belle bit her lip, it was worse than she thought. An extra ten minutes? It was going to be her neck on the chopping block. As Charlotte got closer though, her eyebrows raised, "Pardon me, Belle, but you look like hell."

Belle blinked.

Charlotte was providing her with the best excuse ever, and she probably didn't even realize it.

Taking a very deep breath, Belle coughed, "I know," she started, "I just… I don't think I was fully recovered…" she put a hand to her stomach and forced a burp – for the second time in her life – to which Charlotte visibly cringed. She lifted the strap over her head and put the box on the counter.

Fiddling with her hands, the round-faced girl seemed to be a little contrite – a pang of guilt rumbled through Belle's stomach, but it was also an opportunity to get out of trouble, and she didn't want any more of that. "Well, I.. here you go!" she babbled, trying to stay away, and ducked out of the dressing room quite quickly after that.

Belle would have to remember that: the threat of getting sick near anyone is a powerful deterrent for anger. Taking a deep breath through her nose, Belle collected her thoughts, got her bearings and walked over to her tray, picking it up once again. The weight was significant – either Charlotte had actually restocked it, or she hadn't sold anything at all. Either was a distinct possibility.

She had a couple of more hours to endure.

When she got back out onto the floor her shoddy make-up and slightly mussed hair were easy enough to hide in the dim lights, and she was thankful that it was a club more than it was anything else, because at this rate she'd be getting no tips tonight. Particularly because she noticed Mr. Gold's booth was thusly deserted. Even Marco, of all people, had left.