WOOHOO! Chapter 3! So excited you guys…you guys keep reviewing and that's so, so, awesome! I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 3: Enchanted

His black Jaguar was ostentatious at best, insulting and tasteless at worst in the homey quaint town. It was a tooth achingly sweet little town. Picket fences, a café that looked like it had taken life from a Rockwell painting, a school with delightful pigtailed girls and rambunctious boy all in school uniforms, a general store, a hardware store, the picturesque B&B he was staying at and of course Her Father's Shop. The little shop front stood at the end of Main Street, this knew by the address rather than sight as it was quickly growing dark and the rain was pouring making a true view of the place nearly impossible.

He finished his driving tour of the small town and returned to the bed & breakfast. Granny was a bit hostile toward him and highly suspicious when she had checked him in an hour earlier, this had actually endeared her to him more than it offended. He was suspicious and hostility begat hostility and he was more than okay with that.

Granny was at work with knitting needles in the cozy parlor sitting room when he entered and she eyed him coolly. He gave her a small nod and proceeded toward the stairs but with one foot on the stair he thought better and turned to join granny in the sitting room.

"A blustery, bleak evening out there Mrs. Granny, is not?" he remarked amiably as he took a wing-backed chair across from her, setting his cane to the side.

She flicked an irritated eye at him and continued to knit furiously, "I'm sure I don't know Mr. Gold and my name is simply Granny, no Mrs. about it." She continued to click away with her needles in a manner Mr. Gold was surprised to find wasn't overly agitating. She nodded to the teapot sitting on the table between them, "There's tea there, hot, why don't you play Mother."

Mr. Gold simply inclined his head in answer and a ghost of a smile hovered over his lips as he detected a bit of the ice around Granny's façade chip.

He poured two cups of steaming, strong tea, hovered delicate tongs over pink tinged sugar cubes eyebrows raised toward her. Granny huffed twice, he took this to mean she wanted 2 cubes. She declined cream with a stern shake of her head.

After handing her, her cup and adjusting his own to his liking, a dash of cream, he settled back against the chair.

"I'm well sure you're here for something Mr. Gold and I know who you are… My granddaughter Ruby has me on the World Wide Web you know." She mumphed as her needles clicked away rhythmically. "So, why don't you just tell me what a fancy man like you is doing in our town?" she stopped and raised her eyebrows purposefully at him.

Mr. Gold continued drinking his tea, using the delicate china to hide his smile. He slowly sat down his cup and brushed invisible crumbs from his immaculately pressed trousers before he replied. "You're an astute woman Mrs. Granny," he suppressed a smile as she bristled at 'Mrs.'. "I am indeed here for a purpose, are you familiar with a Mr. Rupert Gaston?"

Granny put down her knitting abruptly and frowned, "Yes, sadly I am Mr. Gold. He broke the heart of a girl I consider as much kin to me as my own flesh and blood."

"Ms. French?"

Granny didn't appear shocked to see that he knew, "Indeed. Dreadful mess that… Mrs. French died with the girl was but 10, died in childbirth you see, the wee babe too – a boy… Moe French, that is the father mind you, he took to drinking heavily after that. They used to own this B&B," Granny glanced over to the reception desk with a soft sigh and shake of her head.

Mr. Gold had figured as much though there were no readily available records he could find while at his office in Boston that said as much. He figured the transfer of deed and business must have been filed in the city or county buildings.

"I wasn't always widowed you see and my Mister was quite good friends with the French's, we bought the B&B from them. Moe and Belle were about ready to lose it. Rosalie French was a rare, rare woman, she was the one that kept this place going." Granny's face was sad and she looked to be wiping at tears. "Moe was lost without her and Belle even more so…. But Belle grew up well, smart as a whip, always has her nose in book! Earned a scholarship to NYU, studied history she did, Scottish history was always her favorite if I remember…her mother was Scots, you are Scots too aren't you Mr. Gold?"

Mr. Gold was taking great care to school his actions. It surprised him a bit at this turn. Not Granny knowing that he was Scottish, his brogue was still very obvious even though he had refined his speech years and years before, "Aye, my family is from a small town outside of Inverness."

Granny clucked her tongue and nodded, "Well, our dear Belle ran into the dreadful Rupert while away at school. I never liked him you know… As boy he had of course, a childish innocent, all babes do, but he wasn't kind, wasn't very bookish, both things our dear Belle is… They never suited. I don't know the entire story… Ruby may, she and Belle are very good friends but I've not wanted to push. But I know Rupert hurt the girl beyond anything…"

Mr. Gold found himself leaning forward a bit to catch the details. Granny's gaze had mostly been focused on the flower wallpaper or her sewing but as her story drifted on to silence she seemed to suddenly remember the stranger she was talking to.

"Oh! Dear me, listen to an old woman prattle! And you only asked if I knew him! Hmmph!"

Mr. Gold leaned back, "I represent Mr. Gaston in some proceedings, he's liquidating assets and My Father's Shop is one of them." He decided playing nice would no one any good at this point, plus he wasn't overly good at it anyway. There was also no use in pretending they both didn't know that Gaston owned the shop or about the financial difficulties surrounding the shop.

To Granny's credit she didn't gasp but steeled her spine, "I see. So I'm to assume then you know that if you liquidate, as you say, My Father's Shop you'll be putting Belle French not only out of a job but also her home?"

Mr. Gold was too well disciplined to let any emotion show that he didn't directly allow but the fact of the matter was, he was shocked to hear that. He didn't know Ms. French was also in residence at the building.

He chose his words carefully, "Mrs. Granny, I have a job to do for my client, My Father's Shop hasn't turned a remarkable profit since it was opened and it's pulling my client further in debt. I have a duty and I am here to see that the building and its contents are either sold or auctioned off within the months end."

It wasn't customary or probably even ethical for him to disclose that much of his clients business with a random old lady but he did so nevertheless. Perhaps he did it to shock her, to remove the sentimental feeling that was suddenly take grip of the room, or perhaps even more likely he did it to prevent any sentimental feeling he may, though it was rather terribly unlikely, form.

There was a tense silence for several minutes. Finally Granny gathered her knitting and rose pausing at Mr. Gold's chair. "Does Belle know about it yet?"

Mr. Gold internally sighed, "No, she does not."

Granny nodded biting her lip and left the room.

Mr. Gold stayed in the warm sitting room for a time deeply thinking. He was perhaps already regretting his coming. There was a reason he quit doing the field bits of the job, among other things they got messy. He didn't mind messy really, he truly had given up caring about people a long time ago, stories like the one Granny had shared didn't affect him any more. His was a face that apparently compelled people to tell him their life stories. He was immune to their plights. Ms. French was no different than anyone else. Everyone made their deals and they were expected to bide by them. Yes it was Moe French that had engaged in most of the first horrific loans and mistakes but his daughter had chosen to take them on instead, had chosen to let her cowardly father off the hook and impale herself on it instead. His bad deals had now become hers.

This was hardly Mr. Gold's fault. Better to be perfectly open and honest to everyone around before they began to think him kinder than he was. Tomorrow he would meet with Ms. French and begin to explain exactly her options and perhaps too, unravel more of the mystery of her, for she was indeed, a mystery.

His first morning in Storybrooke broke bright and chilly. The rain had scrubbed the trees of more of their fall leaves leaving the streets he viewed from his window awash in gold, reds and oranges. It was a very obvious fall day. The sun was doing it's best to burst from the remnants of storm clouds and at the moment it was doing an admirable job. He dressed methodically as he usually was wont to do, dark charcoal grey pinstripe custom made suit, deep slate grey dress shirt, deep burgundy tie that he tied in a large full Windsor knot then adding a matching pocket square to his jacket pocket. His black crocodile boots completed his dress.

Standing before the looking glass he looked over his appearance. He wasn't a vain man, as much because he knew well he had nothing to be vain about but also because he simply didn't value physical vanity. He was powerful, wealthy, witty, and intelligent, also in measures judicious. He wasn't beastly, well in appearance at least. Average height, slender but decently muscled, save his bad leg. His hair had been a favorable light brown in his youth; it had greyed some at the temples he mused brushing it back. He didn't mind the grey or the faint lines creasing around his eyes. He wasn't twenty any more but there was nothing remarkable about being twenty, truthfully he preferred his 51.

He wasn't beastly to look at no, he was, he considered wholly unremarkable but far too often he did think himself a monster. Who else but a monster would be able to rip a girl from her home, take her livelihood and not even care?

Mr. Gold was a monster but today a very finely dressed one.

The clouds had moved back in and though it just after 8 in the morning the day was dark and the town was bathed in shades of slate and mulled brown where the dimmed sunlight filtered though the trees.

Mr. Gold started the rented Jaguar and pulled out on the street. A few mittened and buttoned up people meandered seemingly enjoying the day; none seemed to be obviously tourists just regular folk enjoying their town. As beautiful as this particular area of Maine was, as striking as the colors were and as close to a main highway as the town was it struck Mr. Gold as strange that it wasn't more a tourists trap, it practically screamed it. A lot could be done with this town, he mused, maybe if more people had come to the town he wouldn't be here getting ready to tell a woman she needed to clear out her store. And home.

But Mr. Gold did not deal in 'what if's'.

My Father's Shop was a traditional storefront with large windows that had lettered in Old English 'My Father's Shop' across the front. A wooden sign in the shape of an open book had the same carved in it, stained a lovely blue hung above the central door. A carved rose in bloom was in the middle.

Though the reflection of the street in the window made it somewhat difficult to peer in Mr. Gold could see the small shop's first floor was bookshelves floor to ceiling, rows upon rows filled the place. He strolled forward gripping the gold handle on the heavy wood door and pushed it open. A faint tinkering bell announced his arrival.

The floors were a beautiful polished dark wood, a checkout counter – also dark gleaming wood was exactly to his right, books stretched out all around the rest. It was terribly old fashioned. There were no flashy plasticy covers winking at him like street corner girls like they did at the big box bookstores. When he was unfortunate enough to need to go those places he felt rather like he was going to a street corner. There, books were displayed glassy covers first as no one cared about the content, so long as they drew in people and enticed them to buy.

Not here. Here was different. This was almost less a store and more a library. It called to people softly, not harshly. It welcomed them in, enticed them to look, to seek, to immerse themselves in the mysteries of the tomes. Look, linger and absorb. Big overstuffed and well-worn old-fashioned chairs took up every available space not filled with books. Small tables practically spilled and groaned with the weight of found novels. There were no flashy displays with the current best sellers featured like the dancer of the night. No, there were discreet little tin tags on the shelves helping navigate the reader to the subject or author they might be seeking, but there were no favorites here he believed. Ms. French obviously loved all books the same and felt they all deserved a chance to be discovered. Or so Mr. Gold fancied. Perhaps he was too quick to infer intent but strangely, somehow, be it from his strange little, well honed gift or simply because it felt as if he knew this place from a time before as soon as he stepped into it – which was of course just beyond ridiculous – he seemed to known just what Ms. French was trying to convey in her little shop.

He had been standing in the entryway of this little shop for nearly five minutes he realized and hadn't seen the proprietor.

"…If he could learn to love another and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?..."

Mr. Gold was just about to come around a row of books but stopped short as a beautiful soft lilting voice overwhelmed him. He swallowed hard as he quietly observed.

A group of about ten kids looking to be between the ages of 6 and 10 were sitting cross-legged in rapt attention as they focused on the woman reading.

Mr. Gold fairly choked. She was stunning. More than stunning, she was beautiful, it made his knees almost buckle. He leaned heavily on his cane. She was perched on a low stool, her blue plaid skirt fanning about her knees, which she had tucked ladylike to the side. She wore a white sweater with a cowl neck and long sleeves pushed to her elbows, it was belted with a think black belt. He wasn't much for noticing women's fashion but he couldn't help but drink in every detail of this woman.

Her skin was a lovely ivory but he noticed a few freckles dashed about the exposed bits of her throat and lovely perfect collarbone. Her face was kind, cheeks lovely and round and a dusky natural pink. Lips full with a delicately bowed top lip and lushly kissable bottom. Her nose small and perfect. Her eyes though, those were the most captivatingly and heartbreakingly beautiful feature. Bright, deep azure blue …they were startling. He wasn't sure that if she met his gaze that he wouldn't be struck dumb by their brilliance. Her lashes were dark and lush, framing the large blue eyes like the curtains of a window…enhancing the loveliness when open…concealing the brilliance when closed.

Her hair was lovely also, deep russet with flashes of deep auburn. Long and full of curl, it laid about her shoulders mostly escaping from the blue ribbon she had tied it back with. He watched completely enraptured with her, watching her face, so full of expression as she read to children in front of her, voice changing with each character making the kids at the proper times giggle or gasp.

This he knew quite without being told was Belle French, the woman he intended to destroy in less time then he was sure it would take for that enchanted rose she just read about to wilt.

Okay boys and girls…a few notes I didn't really want to include at the beginning… Granny seemed a bit out of sorts to me… I actually kinda loved her part in this, though I feel I wasn't truly faithful to her character… But, eh I hope you forgive :) Her story obviously isn't the same either…I'm really taking a free hand with these poor guys huh?!

Also, you guys notice how LONG this chapter was? Woohoo for me! And I'm hard at work on 4 already! Couldn't believe I could draw out their actual meeting this long huh, dearies… lol I promise, next chapter… I'm out of ways to delay it I'm pretty sure hehe!

Additional Disclaimer: you may or may not of recognized that the bit Belle was reading was in fact from the beginning narration of Disney's Beauty & Beast…I picked that lovely bit mostly because I love the symmetry of it with Mr. Gold's appraisal of himself earlier in the chapter… and because…well I just love working in more and more of that that story into their story! Lol

Thanks so much for the support, hope you enjoyed!

Oh and PS, does anyone do, or has one been done, music videos for Mr. Gold/Rumplestiltskin to Skillet's Monster? I'm in love with that song and it just seems perfect for him... Would make a great video if someone hasn't done one yet :) *hint, hint*