Summary: Belle receives some bad news.

Chocolate Heartache Cake

It was an ordinary evening by Belle's standards. She'd had a normal day at work, she'd cooked dinner, and now she and Gold were snuggled on the sofa together watching a film that neither of them were particularly interested in.

Presently the phone started ringing, and Belle made a moue of protest as Gold's arms left her to reach for the cordless on the end table beside him.

"Hello?"

Belle glanced at the clock on the wall; it was eleven at night, who could be ringing so late?

"It's for you." Gold handed her the phone. "It's Brenda."

Belle took the receiver with a growing sense of unease. Brenda had been her dad's trusted assistant ever since he had set up the shop, and she had been a good friend to both Moe and Belle over the years. Gold's arm slipped back around her waist, and Belle laced her fingers through his for comfort and courage.

"Hello Brenda."

"Oh Belle, I'm so sorry, it's your dad." Brenda's voice was rough and choked, as if she was fighting back tears, and Belle felt her blood turn to ice in her veins. "He's in hospital."

Belle dug her fingernails into Gold's palm, unable to speak, envisioning a thousand and one terrible scenarios that could have occurred.

"What happened?" she managed to say, finally finding her voice. Her tongue felt thick and alien in her mouth. Beside her, Gold switched off the TV and cuddled her closer into his side, his brow furrowed in question and concern.

"He's had a stroke. I just came into the shop this evening and found him slumped in his chair... I'm at the hospital with him now, they say he's stable at the moment but he's still in intensive care and the first twenty-four hours are crucial, and I'm so sorry, Belle, I'm so sorry."

Belle screwed up her eyes against the tears that were already welling and falling, trying to keep it together for long enough to finish the conversation and make a rational plan.

"It's ok, Brenda, I'm on my way. Just, please, don't leave him alone."

"Of course duck, I'll stay with him till you get here."

"Is he awake? Is he asking for me?"

"No, love, I'm sorry. He's still unconscious. I'm so sorry."

Belle nodded her understanding, fully aware that Brenda couldn't see her.

"I... I'm coming. I'll see you soon."

Brenda said her goodbyes and Belle hung up, dropping the phone into her lap and staring at it, eyes unseeing.

"Belle? Darling, what's happened? Belle?" Gold's voice seemed very far away, as though he were calling her from another room even though he was right beside "Belle, love, please talk to me."

Belle jumped off the sofa, the realisation suddenly dawning on her that every minute she stayed staring at the phone that had been the bringer of such bad news was a minute that she wasn't using to get to her dad.

"Belle!"

Gold followed her out of the room as she rushed into the hallway, pulling on her coat and rummaging frantically for her car keys.

"Belle."

Gold's hands came to rest on her shoulders, a loving but firm grip, and Belle's hectic activity came to a stop.

"Dad's had a stroke," she said, and giving voice to the words made them horribly real. She felt Gold give her shoulders a squeeze and press a kiss to her cheek.

"I'll drive," he said. Belle turned to him and he brushed away her tears.

"Gold..."

"I'm coming with you."

"You've got court tomorrow."

"Screw court. Now, I can appreciate that you want to set off ten minutes ago, but another five to pack your pyjamas and toothbrush won't make a difference. Come upstairs, help me pack a bag and we'll get going."

Belle sagged against Gold and felt his arms come around her and pull her in close, stroking her hair as she buried her face in his sweater.

"I've got you, darling. I've got you."

He was so warm and solid and stoic, an immovable rock against her wild frenzy of panic, and Belle didn't want to let go, for fear of crumpling in on herself with worry.

"What am I going to do without him?" she asked.

"Don't think about it. Not now. We'll cross that bridge if we come to it. Let's just get there and find out what's happened for ourselves." Gold paused. "You might want to put some shoes on."

Belle looked down at her fluffy slipper-clad feet and managed a small smile in spite of everything.

They reached the hospital at just gone one in the morning; the roads had been blessedly quiet. A nurse came to let them in and Brenda was waiting for them at the entrance to the ICU where Moe was being cared for. The older woman was chalk white, and the grey in her mane of frizzy red hair was even more apparent under the stark hospital lighting.

"Oh Belle..." Brenda threw her arms around Belle and the two women stayed in their hug for a long time, each trying to draw strength adn comfort from the other. Belle was quite certain taht she had never seen Brenda so scared. She'd seen her frustrated, angry, but never scared. Brenda wasn't scared of anything; Belle had made that judgment when she had first met her aged eight, and it still held true twenty years later. She had seen Brenda pick up earwigs with her bare hands, shoo spiders away with a simple flick of the wrist and pet growling rottweilers tied up outside the shop. She bred venus flytraps for heaven's sake. To see Brenda so shaken was unnerving.

"He'll be ok," Brenda said eventually, although she did not sound convinced of her own words. "You know your dad, strong as an ox."

Belle wished she could agree. If he really was, then he wouldn't have had a stroke in the first place; he wouldn't be in intensive care.

The doctor came out at that point and took Belle aside into an office to explain everything that was happening. The words flew over her head for the most part, unintelligible medical speak with the occasional terrifying phrase that she could recognise: 'stroke', 'oxygen', 'brain damage', 'operation', 'coma'.

She understood that her father was very ill, and that was all she needed to know at that point.

"Can I see him, please?" she asked.

"Of course." The doctor stood and opened the office door for her. "Right this way."

Gold stood from where he had been sitting in the waiting area with Brenda, and Belle grabbed his left hand as they passed, squeezing hard and dragging him along with her. She was going to need his strength to get her through the first sight of her dad in a hospital bed.

He looked so small. Moe was a big man, tall and broad, the kind of man who filled a room when he walked in. Belle, petite like her mother, had always looked up to him as a giant. But he wasn't a giant now. He was an ordinary man, sick in hospital, surrounded by monitors and machines flashing and beeping.

"Miss French, we're doing everything we can, but your father's condition is very serious."

Belle nodded. "I understand."

The doctor left them alone, assuring them that they could stay as long as they wanted. Belle stood inside the door for a long time, unable to bring herself to go closer and accept that it was really her father looking so small, so helpless.

Gold squeezed her hand.

"Talk to him. He can hear you."

"I don't know what to say," Belle mumbled.

"Whatever you want. He's your father, he'll understand."

Still clinging to her fiancé for dear life, Belle made her way over to the bed and sat down in the chair beside it.

"I'll give you some privacy." Gold kissed the top of her head. "I'll take Brenda home, unless you want me here."

Belle shook her head.

"I do want you here, but poor Brenda needs to go home. Thank you, for everything."

"It's what I'm here for," Gold said. "I'll be back as soon as I can be, and I'm only on the other end of the phone." He paused. "He's in the best place, darling."

"I know."

"I'll be back."

Gold left the room to take Brenda home and Belle stayed lost for words. She took her dad's hand in both of hers, mindful of the wires, and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"I'm here, Dad. I don't know what to say, but I'm here." She sighed. "I thought I'd be better prepared for this. I mean, when Mum got sick I had you to tell me what was happening, prepare me for it, prepare me to lose her. But I'm not ready to lose you too, Dad. I don't know what I'd do without you. I've got Gold, and I love him to pieces, but you're my dad, and I can't imagine life without you on the other end of the phone. Don't you dare go without saying goodbye. Don't you dare!"

Belle didn't want to think about life without Moe. He had always been there for her, always taken her side without question, always loved her and fought for her no matter what. For her whole life he had always been quietly in the background, waiting to catch her if she fell and set her back on her feet, and she didn't know what she would do without his presence as a safety net - never interfering, but always there if he needed her.

She rested her head on the mattress beside Moe's limp hand, resisting the urge to kick something in frustration. It wasn't fair. Her dad still had so much to get from life; he was only in his sixties, and now, this. The doctor had not hidden the truth from her about the severity of her father's stroke. If he survived, it would be unlikely that he would make a perfect recovery. It would be a long, slow, painful process.

She didn't know how long she sat there before there was a gentle tap on the door and she turned to see that Gold had returned. He entered quietly and closed the door behind him.

"Nothing's changed," Belle told him. "I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

"Take it as a good sign."

Belle let go of Moe's hand with one of hers to close over Gold's on the top of his cane.

"Please stay with me," she said. "I need to be strong, and I just can't do that alone at the moment."

Gold made no response save to nudge his nose against hers and settle himself in the other chair in the room.

"Brenda's fine," he said eventually. "She said to call if there was any change, no matter how small, no matter what time of day or night."

"Thank you," Belle croaked.

They lapsed into silence again to wait, although for what, Belle was still unsure. At some point she must have lapsed into sleep, as she woke with a start, unable to place what had roused her. Everything was still the same as it had been; the monitors were still flashing and beeping rhythmically, there were no nurses running around and Gold was still asleep in the other chair, so she assumed that the status quo remained unchanged.

She looked down and found that Moe was looking back at her, awake. One eye was unfocused but the other one was definitely looking at her.

"Dad?" she ventured. "Dad, it's me, Belle."

The doctor had warned her that he might have some memory loss, and the idea that he didn't recognise her twisted in Belle's heart like a knife.

"It's me, Dad," she repeated. "It's Belle, your daughter. Your Belle."

The faintest flicker of recognition ghosted over half his face and the corner of his mouth twitched up in a hint of a smile.

"I'm here," Belle continued. "You just get well."

Moe's eyes closed again and Belle felt herself begin to panic.

"No, Dad, don't go. Not without saying goodbye. Daddy!"

"Sh sh sh..." Gold's hand was soothing on her back. "Sleep is the best healer, you know that."

Belle leaned into Gold's side, trying to absorb some of his stoicism and failing. This was why she needed him with her through this ordeal of a night, and she was incredibly grateful that he had come with her.

Despite his words, though, Belle couldn't help but feel the certain sense of foreboding that had crept into her when her dad had closed his eyes again.

x

Moe passed away at half-past six without regaining consciousness again.

Belle didn't know what to do, what to say, anything. She had cried herself dry and she had sat, mute and numb, letting Gold handle the paperwork.

"Come on, darling," he said, taking her hand. "There's nothing more we can do here. Come on, let's go."

Belle nodded and let him guide her through the corridors towards the car. They were going to stay at Moe's house as Belle would need to be on hand to organise the funeral and sort out Game of Thorns and her father's other affairs. As soon as they got in through the front door and she was faced with so many reminders of her life with her dad, she felt the tears threatening again.

"I... I'm just going to freshen up," she said, aware of the quavering in her voice.

"Of course, love. I'll make you a cup of tea."

Belle went upstairs, suddenly feeling lost in her own childhood home. She couldn't face going into Moe's room, and the spare room furniture was covered with dust sheets to keep it nice. She ended up in her own room - always kept ready for her in case she ever needed it - and the thought of her dad hoovering in there every now and again caused her to break down again. She collapsed onto her bed as she cried, fisting her fingers in the blankets.

She heard Gold come up the stairs and pause outside her door, obviously unsure if she wanted to be alone in her grief. As her snuffling sobs subsided, she heard his voice.

"Belle, darling."

"Come in," she managed.

She didn't turn as he entered and set her mug of tea on the bedside table, staying staring at the wall.

"He still had so much to do," Belle murmured. "There was still so much he didn't get to do. He didn't get to retire and play golf all day. He didn't get to..." She tailed off. "He really wanted grandkids. He never said anything, never wanted to pressure me, but I knew that there was this little seed of happiness when I told him I was expecting. But when I lost the baby, he wasn't sad for himself and his lost grandchild, he was only sad for me. He only ever wanted me to be happy, wanted what was best for me, and he trusted me to know what was best for myself. He wanted to walk me down the aisle next summer, and now he can't!"

She felt Gold's weight shift until he was lying on the narrow single bed behind her, one arm coming round to hold her close against his chest.

"It hurts," he whispered. "I know it hurts, and it feels like you've got this great, gaping hole in your heart that you'll never be able to fill. It hurts like hell, so you just cry until you feel better. I've got you, love."

Belle interlaced her fingers through Gold's. It did hurt, and she knew that in time the pain would lessen. But for now, the wound was fresh, and she would grieve in peace, safe in the knowledge that although her father was no longer with her, Gold would be there to hold her and help her through.