A/N: I want to apologize for taking so long to get another chapter up. "Real life" (e.g. buying a house and moving!) has consumed my life and I've been stressed out and exhausted, so writing has not come easily. But I hope to be back to updating more often soon! Thank you so much for sticking with this story!

"Pay attention, Miss French." Gold's sharp voice brought her back to attention. She was standing at the base of the field, Bandit to her left, the sheep somewhere up above. She could barely focus on them. Her eyes were half closed, bleary. She'd snap at Gold, but the truth was she had demanded the lesson. And she wasn't quite sure she had the strength required for snapping, anyway.

He had suggested she take a long bath, get some sleep. He looked at her with a sort of worry that left her almost breathless at times. He cared. She was sure of it.

But she had insisted on the lesson, told him she was fine, that she wanted the distraction of their continued lessons.

But the reality was that concentration was just slightly beyond her at the moment. Things had been going horribly awry. Her commands were late, when they came at all. Bandit had taken to racing around the sheep, skirting back and forth, trying to listen to Belle's commands while still trying to take control. It was a disaster and when the sheep finally took off up the field in what amounted to a stampede, Bandit hot on their heels, she was ready to admit defeat.

She didn't have it in her that day.

"I'm sorry," she finally muttered, offering up one lame whistle. It stopped Bandit, but the sheep continued on and she could see that the dog was stressed, tongue hanging out, mouth just a little too wide. "Maybe this wasn't my best idea."

For a moment Gold just watched her, a deep furrow between his brows.. She saw one hand raise and she thought he might actually touch her. But the hand dropped to his side quickly enough and the moment passed. "No, I suppose it wasn't." There was a crooked smile on his face and she was glad there was no ire behind the words. She wanted to impress him, she realized. She wanted him to think she knew what she was doing, that all his work with her was paying off.

Today was supposed to be fun and challenging. They were working on moving a small number of sheep through the drive gates. It was a basic herding trial section, but it was tricky to get at first. Belle had been looking forward to it but she could barely get Bandit to move the sheep toward her that day.

They were silent for a moment and then Gold stepped a little closer to her. "If you need to go see him…" He let the words trail off.

She nodded and shut her eyes briefly. "I think that I do." Her father wasn't doing better. He wasn't doing worse either, but the new cocktail of drugs they had had him on for the past week hadn't seemed to do anything. The doctors told her it may be too soon to see anything, but even they looked concerned about it. It wasn't that she was expecting a miracle. Far from it, really. But she hoped for more time. That was all.

"Good then." He waved her away. "I'll take care of the sheep."

"And Bandit?"

He gave her a solemn nod, hand held to his heart. "Of course."

She said no more, simply turned and headed back into the house to change. She knew that heading for the hospital was for the best, even if her heart broke just a little bit more each time she saw her father. It was a terrible thing, really. She wanted to be with him…wanted to always be at his side. And yet every time she was there she had to fight back the tears, speak through the throat she could feel closing up.

It was getting more difficult all the time and she felt terribly selfish, disappointed in herself. She had to be strong and yet the strength was leaving her. She looked at her father and she knew. She knew. There was not much time left. The new medications they had put him on would only prolong the inevitable.

With a heavy heart, she headed out to her car. Be strong. The words echoed within her mind. Be strong, don't cry. Don't let him know that you're going to be lost without his presence in your life. He had to know she'd be ok. Even if she wouldn't. He had to believe that. It was the one thing she really needed him to believe before he passed on.

She turned the key in the ignition and there was a click.

And then nothing.

Nothing?

She tried it again and still nothing. But it had power. That much she could tell. She flicked the lights, turned on the overhead light. Yes, there was power. But the car wouldn't start. She wanted to slam her head down on the steering wheel, a dramatic gesture she hadn't made use of since she was a teenager.

But she didn't. She crawled out of the car, bit back a curse word, and opened the hood. Not that there was any reason to do that really. Belle knew nothing about cars. She could put in windshield washer fluid. She even added coolant when it got low. But beyond that the inside workings of an automobile were as much a mystery as trigonometry was to her.

Gold found her like that a short while later. "Miss French?"

She shot him a look. "Need I remind you…"

"Of course not…Belle." At least there was a smile on his face when he said her name. "Your car…" He let the words hang as he waved a hand at it.

"I don't know," she muttered. "It won't start. There's power, but all I hear is a little click."

He looked grim, she realized, as he glanced down at the hood. And then he finally looked back up at her. "I don't know a damned thing about cars."

"You live on a farm in the middle of nowhere and you don't know anything about cars?" She couldn't help the note of incredulity that crept into her voice.

He gave her a sheepish look. "No. But I think it may be a problem with the starter?"

"Well, yes," she shot back. "It doesn't start so that does seem likely." She closed her eyes, rubbed the bridge of her nose for a moment. "I'm sorry. That was unfair."

"You're under a lot of stress." There was a note of true understanding there and she allowed herself to take a few deep breaths before responding.

"I am."

"Do you want a ride to the hospital?" And he sounded almost hopeful, she realized. As if he really wanted to play at rescuing her yet again.

"Would you mind?"

"I wouldn't have offered if I minded," he pointed out.

"Right." There were times he was kind, times he was almost gentle. And those were the times she just really didn't know what to do about him. She knew how to handle his sarcasm, how to handle the times he drew into himself. But when he did things like this, she just wasn't sure how to react. "Thank you," she finally said.

He waved her over to his truck and went inside to pluck the keys from the board he kept them hanging on. "I'll call David and have him come take a look at your car," he said as he unlocked the door to the truck.

"Thanks," she said and before she could even get in the car, Bandit raced past her and hopped in. "No, girl," she started to say.

"Let her come," Gold said.

"To the hospital?"

"Maybe meeting her will cheer your father up?" She sat down and simply stared at him over Bandit's head. "What?" he asked and still she stared.

"I'm just trying to figure out where the real Gold is." She bit her lip and tried not to smile.

He leaned a little closer to her. "Do you want me to make you walk?"

The quip made her laugh out loud and if Bandit weren't sitting between them, she might have leaned over to kiss him. But she didn't. She just leaned back in the seat, still grinning, and let him drive her to the hospital.

He watched her rush off almost as soon as they set foot in the hospital. She had turned back toward him briefly as the nurses all stopped to say hello, as she was surrounded by people, and mouthed something. He wasn't even sure what, but he simply waved and let her go.

Which left him alone in a lobby with people rushing around him and no one paying attention to him. It was a strange feeling. Whenever he had been in the hospital before it had been as a patient. People made careful note of his needs, made sure he didn't want for anything, and frankly stayed in his hair for far too long. But now he was simply adrift, standing in a small sea of people who barely even noticed him.

He took a seat in the lobby. He didn't know what else to do. It wasn't like he could just leave her there without a way home. They had made no arrangement and he didn't know how long she'd be here. Sometimes she'd go visit her father and come back less than an hour later. Sometimes she'd be gone all afternoon. And so he settled in.

He really couldn't just leave her there.

Even if he told himself he damn well should. Because, really, what was she to him?

And he didn't want to answer that one.

Not honestly at least.

Because when that phone woke him up, when he saw the pain in her eyes, he felt like he had been punched in the gut. It was a weird feeling, really, unexpected and yet not. He had felt much the same way when he had seen her being assaulted. He had, in fact, gotten so protective of her that he'd blacked out and only come to when she was begging him to stop. He had had rages before, certainly, but not to that level. And not since he had allowed alcohol to drag him down after his divorce and loss of his son.

Seeing her hurt made him ache.

And that was something he was better off ignoring, really. Which was why he remained at the hospital of course, legs spread out in front of him, cane set carefully in the seat next to him to avoid any sort of conversation with others who might need to make use of the waiting room. He needed to be here…for whatever reason. But it didn't mean he had to talk to anyone else. Perhaps just leaning back and closing his eyes…

"Tavish?"

He started when he realized he had been dozing off, head back against the wall. As he blinked and looked up at Belle, he sincerely hoped he hadn't been drooling on himself. "Hey," he managed to get out.

"I didn't think you'd still be here."

"I…well…I couldn't just leave you here…"

She smiled and didn't that just make his heart flip. "I have a phone."

"I know, but…"

"Thanks," she cut him off with and he almost breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't want to have to explain things that he couldn't even explain to himself.

"How's your father?" It seemed the right thing to say.

She gave him a tight smile and he could see the way her eyes creased slightly at the corners. "Well enough I suppose. He enjoyed meeting Bandit. So did the nurses. 'Amazing,' I think they said."

"She is." Gold's voice was quiet, but firm when he spoke. "That's because of you." He hadn't meant the words to slip out, hadn't meant to be quite so honest. But Belle sat next to him and her hand touched his leg, just a soft touch but it went straight through him.

"I think you should come meet my father." She sounded hesitant about it.

"I don't think..."

"I do," she cut him off with. "He wants to meet you." He gave her a look and she made a face at him, one of those faces. "He does," she reiterated. "He asked after you."

"Really?" He couldn't help the dry note that crept into this voice.

"He just wants to make sure I'm safe."

"After..." He cut himself off before he could say the words. After I beat that man nearly to death. After I scared you. After you ran…

"No." He was surprised at her quick denial of that. "He's just being a father. His little girl is all alone in the world without him."

He nodded. He knew far better than she could have imagined what it was like being a father. He had never told her about his son, he realized. Not that he had had any reason to. The photos of him he kept private, locked away in his study and bedroom, and stories of him were as locked up in his heart as those photos were. He had no reason to tell her about his son. At least not yet. There would come a time, if she stayed with him, if she didn't run for good, that she'd have to know about him. Milah would put the boy on a bus, send him across the country to him for his two weeks visitation. If she was still here in the early part of the summer, well, he'd face it then.

"I understand," he finally said and allowed Belle to draw him to his feet. It seemed he was going to meet the man. And why it felt like he did when he met Milah's father, all those years ago, dragged in and found wanting, he didn't know.

When they walked into the room, the only thing Belle could hear was the beeping of the machines attached to her father. It seemed that there were more machines all the time. Monitor his heart, monitor his oxygen. There were more tubes going into him than she could have imagined and it seemed that every time she visited now more had been added. She couldn't even keep track of them.

"Papa?" she asked and was rewarded with him shifting slightly, his eyes opening. "I'm sorry Papa. I know you need your rest."

He waved her over. "I always have more time for my best girl."

She smiled and glanced briefly at Gold, who stood nearby holding Bandit's leash.

"We won't stay long," she said as she stepped close.

"We?" She watched as his eyes moved and finally managed to focus on Gold.

"Papa, this is Mr. Gold." He stepped forward then, but didn't extend his hand. A strange look passed across his face and she was almost certain it was a little bit of sadness. Her father looked ill now, features sunken in, large frame far too thin even beneath all the layers they had him piled up in.

"This is the man who…"

"The one I live with, yes." She could feel her face color slightly that is. "That is…the one who takes care of the farm. Bandit's owner," she added rather lamely.

"Bandit is yours," Gold said and she turned to look at him. Hers? She always had the impression she was just sort of leasing the dog, that if she turned her back on his farm, Bandit would stay there. She slept with her, but she wasn't her dog. "Yes," he answered her unspoken question. "The dog is yours." She smiled at the words before turning back to her father.

He was eying Gold and she knew what he was thinking. This was the man who had scared her, who had saved her and yet beaten her attacker into submission. "I thought you would have been…"

"Younger?" Gold asked, a sardonic twist to his lips.

"Larger." Her father's voice was flat when he responded.

Gold let out a small snort of laughter. "Yes, well, there is that too." Belle had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing. Gold didn't seem to know what to say for a moment and then finally managed a few words. "Your daughter needed to be protected."

"She brings that out in all of us." He looked from Gold to her and then back to Gold again. "You need to take care of her."

"I…"

"Promise me that much," her father said and there were tears in his eyes.

"Papa." Belle tried to modulate her voice into something a bit less like an admonishment, but the soft tone was still a little sharp. "It's not Mr. Gold's…"

"Of course," Gold cut her off with, turning to look at her briefly. He met her eyes and there was something there, something she couldn't quite understand. And then the look was gone and he was turning back to her father. "She will be well taken care of. You have my word."

"Papa," Belle said and this time the word was just soft.

"I'm dying, my girl," he said as he turned tired eyes up to her. Damnit. She did not want to cry, not here, not in front of her father, not in front of Gold. But she felt the tears in her eyes and rushed forward to clasp her father's hands in hers.

"Papa, they may still…"

"No." His voice was firmer than she'd heard it in a long time. "They can keep trying, but a body knows."

She took a deep breath, another. And then she felt Gold come up behind her and his hand lightly touched her shoulder. Another shuddering breath, eyes closed, fighting against the flood of tears. She would not break down. That was for moments when she was alone, holed up in her room or out in the barn with only the sheep and dogs for company. It was not for here.

"I think we should go, Belle."

She looked at her father, stricken. But he nodded. "Yes." His voice was weakening and she knew that Gold was right. It was time to leave.

But she didn't want to.

Leaving was harder each time.

Each time she worried it might be the last time she saw her father. But she had to go, had to let him sleep. She watched as he reached out and pressed the button on the machine next to him. It would administer a dose of pain killer that would soon have him sleeping peacefully.

"Alright, Papa," she finally said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I'll see you soon."

"But not when I don't feel well, my girl. You know that right?" She smiled. Her father still had so much dignity, so much pride.

"Of course, Papa."

She turned to leave, had gotten only a few steps away when she noticed her father reach out and grab Gold's sleeve. "You take care of her." His eyes were intense for a moment and when Gold nodded, her father lay back and shut his eyes.

They left the room in silence, Gold leading the way back to his truck. She didn't know what to say, what to think. All she could do was trudge after him, eyes a little bleary. When she swayed slightly before getting in the truck, Gold simply held out a hand and allowed her to use the leverage to get up into the vehicle.

He turned to her when he got in and with her head pressed against the window, she could just barely see him out of the corner of her eye.

"Are you ok?" His voice was quiet as he asked.

Belle simply shut her eyes, letting the coolness of the window soothe the ache in her head, even if it couldn't soothe her heart. "No," she finally said, a mere whisper. But he heard her anyway.

He said nothing, just watched her for a moment and then started up the car.

And she was thankful. If he said anything, if he offered her sympathy, a pat on the shoulder, anything, she was likely to break apart. But he didn't. Almost like he knew.

And so they made the ride home in silence, Belle watching the world go by, wondering how things could be so bleak while spring was starting to make its way into their small town.