Y'all ready for this? We're going to dig into Mr. Gold's mind for a bit. Mr. Gold has been rather cagey and OOC with Belle in the last chapters and has shown a remarkable change of heart as of chapter 15 (well really I think more like 13) ...maybe it's time to find out why...

This chapter was ridiculously hard to write. I lost Mr. Gold's voice for a while…which was unsettling to the say the least. I blame the last few OUaT episodes. They were FANTASTIC but damn they brought to light a lot about Rumple/Gold! So anyway I am SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO sorry this took so long to get out.

This chapter is dedicated to PrincessTiannah – girl, you kept on me and got me writing! Cheers!

Chapter 16: History

He's known this conversation has been coming. He knew that it wouldn't be particularly easy to explain what he's done and why he's done it. He knows he's been out of sorts, even and perhaps especially, in her estimation. If only she knew exactly how out of sorts it truly was.

He's not sure when it happened, it certainly was around the time she had so quickly recognized Ivanhoe - it was one of the of the few things his mother had given him by way of advice in courting women. His mother was the kind to call it courting.

Never get serious about a woman if she hasn't read Ivanhoe. She doesn't have to like, but she must have at least read it. Always find a girl that reads my dear Roddy, those are the keepers.

He knew so immediately and emphatically that she was 'the one' in those few hours. His True Love. But it had been there before too, moments, glimpses where he realized that his life was no longer just about him. No longer what it had been for the previous decades.

Maybe it was while sitting in that boardroom and realizing if everything was destroyed tomorrow he would miss nothing and he would be alone. No one would miss him. No one would mourn him. His legacy would be a company that destroyed lives. Even if that was a rather bleak observation, even for him.

He thought again of his mother and verse she like to quote to him so often,

And what do you benefit if you gain the whole world but lose your own soul?

The fact was, he had gained the whole world. He had money, he had power, and he had things, so many things. He'd gained everything that the world could offer him.

Except the one thing he didn't know he was missing until he found it in the hands of a shop girl: His very heart and his soul.

Oddly enough though, it wasn't solely Belle French. She had his heart completely but it was too, the entirety of Storybrooke.

It was true that most the people he had met were hostile towards him but it was in part because of that, that he was at ease there. People were honest. They had thoughts about him, not unwarranted thoughts given his reputation, and they had no qualms about expressing them. They weren't falsely kind or kind to him because of who he was and the power he wielded.

They didn't like him and damn well showed it.

He liked that. They were honest and good people. He would change their perceptions a bit, he hoped, as time went by and they could see him in all lights, not just the one where he was throwing a girl they loved out on the streets.

Or buying up their properties, that wasn't such a great way to introduce one's self.

Mr. Gold was trying to think of a way to describe the change he had felt himself go through. Nothing was quite right, nothing fit.

It wasn't a long drawn out, over time, change, but then again it wasn't completely overnight either.

"It is a bit like pulling open curtains that have been nailed over windows...the sunlight is blinding and you can't see anything until your eyes adjust...and when they finally do, well you see everything. Everything you've been missing..."

Belle looked at him appearing confused, "So...I'm the curtains?"

Mr. Gold made a noise in his throat, a noise of frustration. He reminded himself of his father in that moment.

How did he explain it? "No my dear...you are the sunlight."

He watched her eyes widen as understanding dawned.

"Do you believe in true love? Love that is destined, fated...love that defies logical and rules because it is the thing that proves it? Love that is discovered in an instant, defined over time and lasts an eternity?" he was starting to ramble in his earnest.

"I...I do. Of course I do."

"True love is not true love unless it's shared between two..." he trailed off, feeling like he hadn't since he was a young adolescent: unsure, nervous, and terribly vulnerable.

It wasn't that Dougal Roderick Gold had had a traumatic life. In fact he hadn't really. His father had worked on the car factory lines and made a reasonable wage, the family lived mostly comfortably. Until Robert Dougal Gold died of heart attack while working on that factory line when Roderick was but a young lad of 6. His mother and aunt raised him after that.

Roderick, as his mother had always called him, or rather Roddy, (she was never fond of the name Dougal, it had been his father's instance as it was a family name) grew up without a male figure in his life to teach him what it mean to be a good man, a strong man, a person of confidence.

His poor mother was terrified of losing her only child, her son; like she had lost his father and had all but kept him wrapped in cotton.

Roderick resented this, resented the teasing and the fights he got into as a result of being a 'mummy's boy'.

He never realized how much he'd miss his shroud of cotton until the day his mother died. Maybe Roderick resented the sheltered youth he had had, the sheltered youth without the benefit of a father and had compensated, but one thing remained…

Avonlea Rebekah Gold, if nothing else, raised a boy that respected and treated women right. Perhaps she had even instilled in him an awe of women, beings to hold in unparalleled esteem. He wouldn't say he wasn't without his flaws in his manners toward women. He had a tendency to keep things close, to not always share what was on his heart, choosing rather to hope they just understood.

He would admit that with Milah he fell for her beauty, her grace, and her ethereal presence on the ballet stage. Not overly much her personality, her charm or her gentleness of spirit.

He had been young and in a great many ways naïve still about women. It didn't take him too long to see the error of his ways in choosing Milah. If there was anything to be said about Roderick, besides words with four letters and a general feeling of hate and discontent is that he was loyal to fault.

If you had Roderick's friendship, his esteem, or his benevolent indifference, you had it without fail.

In turn, if you had his loathing, his distaste or indifferent dismissal, you had it without fail.

It took practically an act of God to change Roderick Gold's mind once it was set it, this had its good points and it bad.

His unwavering loyalty and sheer stubbornness kept him married to Milah for far longer than he should have.

He was a stubborn man, a vigilant man, and a man that was quite used to working until he got what he wanted.

Somehow though, he was smart enough to know that his usual methods would not succeed in winning over the likes of Belle French.

"Mr. Gold, please...this is all rather confusing me...what are you saying?"

What was he saying? He really didn't know any more.

"Maybe I can better show you? Will you come with me?" He suddenly brightened as he thought this idea might just be the ticket.

Belle looked down at her attire, "I'm not really dressed for an outing."

"Humor me? Please?" he tried not to sound like he was pleading, but the matter was...he was.

Belle sighed, "Very well, let me grab a pullover," she rose from the sofa and went to her wardrobe withdrawing a pullover sweater and her tennis shoes.

Mr. Gold stood from the sofa and waited, fidgeting a bit. He wasn't ever one to fidget. He had gone to great lengths to school his actions, school his emotions. It had taken great efforts to tamp down his tendency to let his Scottish propensity to gesture emphatically and emote grandly. It had been something he had worked on since he was a young man.

He had always thought it was the downfall of many great people. They needed to be showy, to impress with gestures as they conducted conversations. Mr. Gold kept things simple; he dressed simply, though well, and kept his emotions out of his face and hands.

Mostly. Every now and again a titter, a wry tightening of his lips to keep from sneering would creep in, but mostly Mr. Gold was good at indifferent loathing.

Except of course when it came to Belle, there everything about him became rather cloudy. Everything both ceased to make sense and came to stunning clarity.

Mr. Gold watch Belle slip her feet into her trainers and rise with a bright smile, "Okay, show me your master plan my Rumplestiltskin."

Mr. Gold smiled, nodded and taking up his cane, "With pleasure my dear, with pleasure."

Belle looked at him curiously, "This is the Pink House, growing up everybody believed it was haunted, it wasn't of course...just old. It has belonged to the city for years; they keep trying to put it on the agenda for the council to consider it as a Historical Landmark. It's one of the oldest houses in Storybrooke..."

"I know, it's formal name is La Maison d'Or Rose...it translates to..."

"House of Rose Gold," Belle smiled softly, "I speak a bit of French...my father's side and all," she shrugged looking strangely shy.

Mr. Gold nodded; pleased beyond measure for some strange reason he wasn't at all sure of.

"Of course I did a whole project for my art history class in college on this house... It was built in 1889, the style is predominantly Queen Anne with Beaux-Arts elements...the pink is very classic for the period and hallmark gables... It's a beautiful example of the architecture in America... It could do with a little TLC, but the bones are solid and sure."

"Do you like this house?" Mr. Gold asked, trying desperately not to let his anxiousness for her approval creep in.

"Of course I do. It's the most beautiful home in Storybrooke...it's history is wonderful. It's a beautiful home..." she answered sadly.

"Why do you sound so sad?"

"Oh, I don't mean to! It's just, this is a home that should be loved, it should have a family."

Mr. Gold's heart was speeding up in his chest, he stuttered as he tried to speak, "Maybe...maybe one day it will. Soon."

Mr. Gold drove his rented Jaguar up through town in companionable silence. He was too nervous to speak as he thought over his plan in his head. Somehow it had seemed much less risky before he had acted.

He parked across the street from the old pawnshop, exited the car and went to open Belle's door.

"For the brief period that I was able to speak with Neal last night..." he paused as he found his smile was so big he was having a hard time speaking, "and he told me about his passion for the law it rekindled in me a passion long forgotten."

"I was quite good at property law, and criminal really...some attributed it to my already suspicious and some say conniving nature, but whatever it is, I am, or I was, good at it and I loved it," Mr. Gold spoke as he led her across to the boarded up pawnshop.

"My goal one day...if fate should find fitting...that I might one day practice law with my...my son. I know he wants to go abroad and see the world...and I want that for him, but I would like to hope, perhaps after he's traveled the world and seen the things there are to see that he'll come back. He'll find me again and we might try to spend the time we didn't get before..." he fiddled with his cane, eyes falling uncharastically to the ground.

"I purchased this building first, before I knew about Neal...It was cheap, and could easily be fixed up as anything...in my mind's eye I think I saw it first back as it was...a pawn shop and perhaps an antique store. My vision has broadened some."

His eyes met Belle's and he smiled, "What do you think? Is it foolish for an old man to dream?"

Belle laughed her magical laugh, "Oh, quite the contrary... you sir, are not old and secondly that is hardly a dream my dear, that is a hope and without hope, what are we? You and your son have a long and happy road ahead, of that I am sure."

Mr. Gold nodded still having his doubts, offering her his arm, "This is a beautiful town you know...a wonderful tourist trap, or at least it could be. In a good way..." he steered her down the street toward the clock tower.

"I've not been a small town person since I was a boy, even then soon as I was old enough I was off for Inverness and school, doing everything I could to escape the small hometown I grew up in ...by the time I realized a small town was the only place I wanted to be...the big city was the only place that would have me..."

He stepped the boarded up windows of the library under the clock tower, "This," he gestured a single finger with a small flourish he couldn't quite tamp down, "This I bought because it reminded me of my mother...she would have liked this."

Mr. Gold pulled a set of keys from his pocket; selecting one he opened the door with some efforts and elbow grease.

"I have wondered often about a way to remember my mother, a way to do her honor. Nothing had felt right before... Too flashy or too simple. My mother was certainly never one to do with high praise or frivolous gifts, but she was a woman full of grace and warmth...and she would have loved you..." he spoke as he propped the door wider to allow in sunlight.

"Being in your store...it reminded me of her so much. She loved to read, she loved books more than just about anything. The adventures and the dreams... She had wanted to go and discover the great wide somewhere... She would have loved you, so much."

"I...there isn't an easy way to say this," he grew nervous as they stood in the shadowed building, "I can't save your store Belle...I tried, I tried everything. I bought the building, yes. I bought most of the inventory, it's sitting in a warehouse in Boston. I wanted...I wanted to buy it all and give it back to you... I have so much, so much and you... I know you don't, I know that your shop was your life and I wanted to preserve it…but I couldn't."

Mr. Gold's natural propensity for gesturing was coming back to the surface, he stared at her trying to judge her reaction. She was unreadable.

"I can't give you your store…I can't give you the building. I can give you everything in it however. All the books, all the shelves, all your antiques, I just have one request…" he paused.

Belle was looking at him, arms around herself, tears glistening in her eyes.

"This library has been named a historical site and will be forever protected. Nobody will be able to take it, ever. I've made sure. I've set up an endowment for the upkeep and running, a generous trust. As part of that I've setup an apartment for the caretaker for as long as she…or he, would like to take use of it. It's completely independently held, I've no control or say."

"I've named the trust after my mother…and yours. The favor that I'm asking is…will you run this library? Will you be caretaker of this?"

AN: I've decided all confessions / professions should take place in a library...it's a thing now, I've decided.

The rest of his plan is coming, I finally worked it all out in my head today - yay!

Thank you guys SO much for continued reading and patience with the inconsistency and lengthy delays of this story, you guys are so awesome, I don'd deserve it.