The next morning should have felt awkward. He was sure of that much at least. The last time he had been on a date was approximately a hundred years ago and he was sure it hadn't really gone well. Not that he could remember. He wasn't sure if he had blocked the memory out or if it had just really been that long.

Maybe a combination of the two.

When he walked downstairs, though, he found Belle already in the kitchen, humming as she tossed a bit of butter into a pan and pulled the eggs out of the refrigerator. She didn't seem concerned, worried, anything. She was just…herself.

And he didn't know why that surprised him, really. He expected It's a mistake, Gold. Or maybe I'd like to go home now, Gold.

Instead, she turned when she heard the sound of his cane on the ground and gave him a brilliant smile. "I thought I'd make us breakfast."

He paused just inside the door and tried to keep from staring at her. It didn't work though and her nose wrinkled just a little bit as she looked at him. "I…" he started to say and no, that wasn't going to come out right. He was sure of it. "Thank you," he finally managed to get out and sat at the small table.

Belle just nodded, smiled, and turned away to continue her preparations. He watched. He didn't know what else to do, really. This whole thing was odd, left him feeling slightly unsettled at the same time he felt content and…dare he even think it?...happy.

She made him happy, he realized. And that was more than just a revelation to him. It was shocking and left his mind reeling. There was a part of him that wanted to pull back immediately. She was getting too close, too soon, too much. He had invited her into his home and she had simply taken over like she had always been there. Like she belonged there.

Yes.

That was the problem. Well, not a problem exactly. But when she left, and she inevitably would, his home would feel cold and empty without her presence.

He should push her away.

Now. Before he got in even deeper than he already was.

But when he thought about that, he felt a darkness creep into his heart and he knew he couldn't do it. That he didn't want to do it.

"What are you thinking about?" Belle asked as she sat down at his side. Her head was cocked slightly to the side, a small furrow between her brows.

"Sorry," he said quickly. No answer to her question, to be sure, but he wasn't sure what to say really.

"For?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. Nevermind. Breakfast?"

She bit her lip as she smiled and he felt that go straight to places he probably should not be thinking about. Why exactly did he think he could date the woman who lived with him? It was insanity to be sure.

"Coming right up." She bounced up and he was positive she wasn't quite sure how to act either.

He stood then, followed her to the stove, almost wrapped his arms around her before letting them just dangle uselessly at his side. "I had a good time last night."

She turned back to him then and she was too close, too there. He wanted to skitter back. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let her go. Instead he just stood there, watching her, unsure of himself.

When she put a hand on his arm, he released the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"I had a good time too."

He nodded and she turned away. It was a moment, at least. She didn't regret the date. He didn't regret it.

Quite frankly, that terrified him more than just a little bit.

They were already on their way to the hospital when the call came. There are some things you never ever want to hear from the other end of the line when you pick up the phone and a nurse telling you that your father has gone into a coma and they don't think he'll come out and this is probably the end is certainly high at the top of that list.

She glanced at Gold as the nurse spoke to her and she watched as his hands tightened on the wheel, could feel him pick up speed.

"You don't have to drive this fast…"

"I do," he interrupted with.

She just nodded. What else could she say? She knew she'd regret it for the rest of her life if she didn't make it there on time, if she wasn't there to hold his hand and tell him she loved him one last time. She hadn't been there when her mother died. She'd been sent off to her grandparents when her mother was taken to the hospital. She'd simply been too young to really understand. Or at least, that was what the adults had told her.

But she knew.

And she always wished she could have been there in those last moments, even if it was awful and heartbreaking and sad.

But she could be there for her father. Even if she wasn't ready.

They made it there on time, the nurses rushing them back to him before she even had to say a word.

The room was strangely quiet and it took her a moment to realize that they had unhooked the machines from him. He lay alone now in the bed, his presence diminished, his eyes shut. He looked thinner, smaller, just a large presence that had faded to almost nothing, surrounded by too much sterilized white.

"Papa," she whispered and she took his hand in hers. He didn't open his eyes but she was sure she felt him twitch, a small attempt at grasping her hand. It wasn't much, but it was something. He knew she was there. At that moment in time that was all she could hope for, really.

"I'll leave you two." She turned away from her father briefly to see Gold standing close behind her. There were more lines about his face, eyebrows lower than usual.

"Please," she started to say. Then… "Don't."

The lines between his eyes deepened for just a moment. "Of course." He moved to sit quietly, somewhere behind her. She hoped he didn't feel awkward, sitting there while she kept vigil at a dying man's bedside.

It seemed like hours that she had sat there, talking quietly to her father, not expecting a response and not getting one. It surely must have been hours, though sometime later Gold told her it was just a little less than an hour from the time of their arrival to the end. But in that time, she was sure she had said everything that she needed to.

At the end, her father had opened his eyes just briefly. His hand had squeezed hers a little harder.

Belle…

She had been bending over his hand, still whispering, voice hoarse with the words she could no longer get out. Her head had shot up at the sound of her name. Weak, certainly, but still her father's beloved voice.

Papa…

I love you… The words had come out on a slight croak, but they were clear. She was sure she had heard them. My child, he had gone on with and she could say nothing, think of nothing. She just focused on his eyes. Tired, she remember thinking later. He looked so tired. I need to go see your Mama now.

The tears had started then. She couldn't help them. She had tried so very hard to be strong in that moment, tried to show him that she would be fine, that she could live without him, go on with her life, never forget everything he meant to her.

Yes Papa, she had finally whispered. She was not ready. She would never be ready. How could she be ready? Tell Mama I love her.

And then his eyes had closed.

And on a sigh he had left them.

Gold had been there. She hadn't expected that, but when she turned he was at her side and she had flung herself into his arms, the tears finally allowed free reign.

Her Papa was gone.

The world would never be the same.

Everything seemed so disjointed over the next few days that she wasn't sure she could have answered questions on what happened when during that time.

There had been arrangements to make and Gold had not allowed her to make them alone. He had been at her side every step of the way and she knew when her mind was more settled, she would have to think about all of that. His presence there comforted her and more than once he had been called her boyfriend, her partner, once even her husband. And he hadn't once said a word against those people. He simply nodded, took what literature they gave him, told them to spare no expense.

Her father was to be cremated and someday, when she felt up to it, she would make the trip back home and spread his ashes in the same sea her mother's had been spread in. Her father had loved her to his final moments, his only thoughts at the end of seeing her again.

Belle didn't know what she believed, in Heaven or Hell or anything else, but she knew that in whatever afterlife there might be, her father was with her mother again at last. It had been all he'd really wanted, especially in those final days.

"I only wish I could have someone who loved me that much," she had told Gold the first evening after her father passed on. His look at that moment had been unfathomable, eyes dark and focused.

"I think we all wish that," he had finally said and she found herself nodding. He was lonely and she was sure no one had ever loved him like her father had loved her mother. She found that immeasurably sad. He deserved that love, the love of a woman who would never leave his side, who would never pull back no matter how dark his mood might get.

She had never had it either, she realized. She wondered if it were even possible. Her relationships had been few and far between, friends that she had fallen for and had miraculously felt the same way she did. There had been many more crushes that were not returned, men who looked past her and her sometimes odd devotion to her books and research.

Life had not been easy for Belle.

She knew that life wasn't easy for Gold, either.

"You'll find it Belle," he had said and his voice sounded so serious, his use of her given name so unexpected and intimate, that he had at least lightened the heavy load on her heart for a moment. "I know you will."

Gold had made sure the small memorial was all set up for her. There was no burial, no wake, no funeral. No one knew her father, save her and Gold. But her friends showed up. Ruby, Ariel, even Ruby's grandmother had showed up and refrained from casting Gold any dark glances.

It was a simple, quiet affair held outdoors where the wind whipped around them and stole away their words before they could travel very far. Her father loved the outdoors. He loved his flowers and trees and nature. He had been a staunch outdoorsman when he was well, often taking long walks in nature, sailing, fishing. Anything that kept the wind in his hair and the smell of fresh air all around him.

She couldn't imagine how much those last months in the hospital must have bothered him, nearly chained to a bed, seeing the same four plain white walls day after day. She wished she had tried harder to bring the outside into him. But at the time it hadn't seemed to matter. He was there. He was alive.

And then he wasn't.

"Belle," Ruby said as she approached. She cast an assessing glance at Gold before wrapping her arms around Belle briefly. "I'm so sorry. If you need anything…" She let the words trail off and Belle could well understand the implication behind the words. She meant well. Truly she did.

"Thank you," she responded with and hoped no one could hear how hoarse her voice was.

Ariel wished her well and shook Gold's hand. The bubbly red-head often seemed flighty, but she had a keen mind and an even keener observational sense. And the look she gave Gold was full of meaning, full of obvious intent. If you hurt her…

Gold simply inclined his head as Ariel and the others moved off. He stayed with Belle and her father's urn for what seemed like ages before she finally was able to move off. There were no tears. She hadn't shed any since the moment he died.

There was an emptiness there, clawing at her insides. As if all the emotion had been somehow taken out of her, dumped into that urn alongside her father's ashes. That was all that was left of him now, the great man who had been there for her since the day she was born, the man who had held her and comforted her and played dolls with her even if he didn't quite know how to. Now he was reduced to nothing, just ashes, dust, little more than the dirt they stood on.

She was thankful that Gold picked up the urn, that she didn't have to keep that reminder locked in her arms. She'd never be able to wrap them around her father again and holding that cold bit of ceramic just felt so very wrong.

"Are you ready?" Gold's voice was soft in her ear.

It took a moment, but she finally managed to nod. "I think so."

He led her away, like one would lead a child. Quiet, an arm about her waist, pulling her forward when she could barely put one foot in front of the other. She focused on that. First one foot, then the other, then another foot, the warmth of his arm at her back, the coolness of the breeze that was picking up.

There were storms in the distance, the clouds looking angry, dark, hanging low over them. She could barely hear the rumble of thunder, but it was there nonetheless. The perfect end to a dreadful day. Her father hated storms, always had. How utterly perfect that they should roll in on the day she bid him farewell.

He was worried about her. How could he not be? They had arrived back at the house and found David and Mary Margaret Nolan had been busy. The refrigerator was stocked full of food, carefully labeled and portioned out. There were pastries and other baked goods sitting in a Tupperware container on the counter. And a note that there was a meal in the oven, all they had to do was turn it on.

But Belle had no reaction to it. She simply stopped and stared at it and then turned away.

"You should eat," he told her and he hated the way the words sounded coming out of his mouth. Like they were an admonishment, like she was a child. But he felt like he had to take care of her. And he was certain she wasn't eating, hadn't been sure she'd eaten much of anything since the morning after their date. It had only been a few days, but he could already see that her cheeks were turning gaunt, her eyes looked larger in her face than before.

He was worried.

And that didn't bode well on so many accounts.

"I'm not hungry," she murmured. Her eyes were downcast, her voice soft. She would break apart if he said the wrong thing, that much he was sure of. And he was so very sure that he would say the wrong thing that he almost didn't say anything else.

Almost…

"Belle, would your father want you to waste away like this?"

She looked at him then and her eyes were red-rimmed and dry. And then she got up. And walked out. Without one word.

"Belle, I'm sorry," he tried to call after her, but she was gone. He just shut his eyes and slammed his fist down on the table. He knew better. But it didn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth sometimes.

He didn't know how he ended up there, and he only realized where he was when his hand hit the door.

"Gold," David Nolan said as he opened the door. For once he didn't see annoyed to find him standing on his doorstep. "How's Belle?"

He shook his head. "She left."

"Left?"

"I said the wrong thing. And she left."

David gave him a crooked grin and for a moment he wanted to punch him. Just take his cane and smack the younger man across his insolent little face. But he did no such thing. Instead he offered a shrug, palms up.

"I doubt she left for good," David pointed out.

"But…"

"Look, man, she's hurting. Her father just died. Do you know what that's like?" He was giving him that look, the one that said that he should since he was so much older than David.

"I hated my father."

"Your mother…"

"Died when I was too young to know her." There was a world of hurt there and he didn't relish showing those old war wounds to anyone, much less sunny David Nolan.

"Well, I do."

Gold's head shot up at the words. "You?"

He watched the other man's expression break for another moment. "My mother died a week before our wedding."

Gold should have known that detail, he realized. He prided himself on knowing such things about those who were around him. "Ah…"

"So listen. She'll be back. She probably needed some time to think or cry. You're not exactly the warmest person…"

"I try to be," Gold snapped back.

"Really?"

"Well…" No, not really, he realized. He tried to push people away. He wanted to be warm, with Belle at least. But he found that the closer they got, the more he tried to push himself away from what almost seemed inevitable. It would be ridiculous for him to even say he wasn't ready. It had been years, almost a decade, since he had had any form of female companionship. He should be more than ready.

And yet still the sting was there, the harsh words, the insults. He still remembered the flash of fire in Milah's eyes, and worse, still remembered the feel of her hand colliding harshly with his cheek, the thrown boot that hit the side of his face.

"You're not," David pointed out and Gold brought himself forcefully back to the conversation.

"You really think she'll be back?"

David reached out to put a hand on his shoulder and he flinched back, leaving the other man's hand dangling in the air. It was an automatic reaction, really. One that he had never been able to fight back.

"She will. Just…go home and wait her out. She has a lot of pain inside her right now."

Gold nodded. Leave it to David to know just the right words to say. If someone held a gun to his head he wouldn't admit it, but he had come to view the other man as something close to a friend, someone who he could rely on. David had a cool head and a big heart, neither of which Gold had and both of which he respected.

And he was right.

Again.

When he walked in the door to his place, Belle was back. He breathed a sigh of relief until she stepped out of the shadows and dropped the robe she was wearing.

"Belle," he whispered. "What are you doing?"

She wasn't naked, though in a way the negligee she was wearing was far sexier than had she simply been standing before him wearing nothing. Not that she wasn't gorgeous, but somehow leaving things covered, leaving things for him to strip away and uncover, was that much more titillating.

"I need you." The words came out on a hoarse whisper and he found himself drawn toward her, could not stop until he was standing directly in front of her.

"Belle," he said again and watched as she shivered slightly. Her arms came up and draped around his neck and without any warning her lips were on his.

He didn't know what he expected in that moment, but the searing heat of her mouth, the feel of her hands in his hair, stopped all rational though. He found himself kissing her back, his arms wrapping tight around her waist, hauling her in close to him.

He wanted to.

Oh, but he wanted to.

Years of pain and anger and hate followed by years of nothing had left their mark. He had been abandoned. By everyone. By his father. By his wife. Even by his mother, though his rational side said he couldn't blame her for that. The not so rational side whispered the stories he heard others tell when they thought he wasn't listening. That she didn't take care of herself, that she didn't want the baby, that she didn't ask the midwife to stem the bleeding and save her. Who would want such a child? The son of a cheat, a coward, the son of a man who all loathed and thought beneath them.

It all culminated in this. Unable to pull away. Unable to press forward. He allowed himself to wrap his arms around her for a moment, lost in the small sounds she was making, the soft feel of her in his arms. She felt…right…there. Like no one else did.

And yet it couldn't last.

It never did.

He pulled back slightly, arms still around her, her hands still tangled in his hair. "Belle," he whispered and her eyes opened.

"You make me feel," she said.

He blinked once. Again.

"I need to feel something, Tavish. I'm so numb." She moved forward again and this time he was able to step completely back, disengaging.

"Not like this, Belle," he said and his voice was harsh, breathing still heavy. It was hard to get the words out, words he didn't want to say.

"Tavish?" Her voice was small and her eyes were watery as she looked up at him.

"I'll not have you like this."

"Like…" He was sure she hadn't been drinking, couldn't smell any alcohol on her, but her mind was not all there and her thoughts were obviously muddled.

"This," he said and the word came out harsher than he intended. "You don't need this. You're grieving, Belle."

She just nodded at the words and he wrapped his arms around her, held her tight. He could feel her shaking in his arms, the tears that she had been fighting back coming. And he wasn't sure if she was crying for loss of her father at that moment or because of his refusal. Pulling back slightly, he framed her face in his hands, searched her eyes as they finally met his.

"I do want you," he said and was pleased to see the words making her smile through the tears. "But when you're fully invested. When you're all here."

He pulled her close again. It was a promise. He could at least offer her that much. He wanted to. He wasn't sure if his mind would allow him to let go enough but oh how he wanted to. To be close to her, to hear her moan his name, to watch her come undone again and know it was him that caused such a beautiful thing. He wanted it. He needed it.

Perhaps like he never had before.

"Will you…" He could feel her take a deep breath, her chest expanding against his. "Will you stay with me tonight?"

"Of course." He could, really, deny her nothing at this point. Her pain was his pain and it caused his chest to tighten when he saw the way she nodded and the small quirking of her lips on one side. He let her lead him to her bedroom. Hers this time, not his. Perhaps she wanted to feel safe, surrounded by her things, in her own place in the house. It didn't matter, really. And so he allowed her to draw him into the room.

He didn't even bother to get undressed, save pulling off his belt, before he crawled under the covers with her. She was with him in an instant, curling into his arms as he lay on his back, her head coming to rest on his chest, one arm draped across him.

It felt…strange…being there. And yet right somehow. It felt like…home. And for once, that thought didn't make him uncomfortable.