Chapter 44
After dinner, the couples split up. That's how Gold thinks of Emma and Bae now, a couple, though neither of them would admit it if asked: there's been no hand-holding or kissing, but the conversations and the glances between the sheriff and the electrician suggest that physical contact is bound to happen. Neither Emma nor Bae is the touchy-feely type (Gold is so glad Belle is), so when they do finally cuddle, it'll be a significant step in their relationship.
Bae and Emma go dancing at the Village Underground, while Gold and Belle catch a Maya Deren festival at the IFC Center. "Are you sure, Belle?" Gold whispers as they flag down cabs. "Wouldn't you rather go dancing too?" He holds his breath: for her sake, he'll try, but his ankle's aching from walking all around the Met.
"I appreciate the offer," she whispers back, "but I have two left feet, so dancing is a chore for me. And I can't wait to see your reaction to Meshes of the Afternoon." He believes her and smiles in relief.
They've returned to the hotel and are tucked in for the night when a light rap at their door drags them out from the Italian bed linens. Gold yanks on his trousers and with a grumble, tromps to the door. "Who is it?"
The voice behind the door whispers, "Emma. Sorry, but I really need to talk to you." When he opens for her, she hurries into the sitting room, her face pale. Bae is right behind her.
"Sorry, Dad, but this can't wait."
Wrapping herself in a hotel robe, Belle emerges from the bedroom. "Is it Henry? Is he hurt?"
"No one's hurt," Emma assures them, then growls, "but I'm thinking about it."
Gold invites them to be seated. No matter how bad the news they may carry, he will never be sorry to see them. Belle perches on the arm of his chair. "What's the matter, Em?" she asks.
Bae sits beside Emma on the settee. He drapes his arm over her shoulders, offering her support. Emma's too agitated to notice consciously, but her body does lose some of its tension. "I had a call from Mary Margaret. A petition is being sent around calling for her to exile you. The argument is that you did worse stuff than Regina, so if she should be kicked out of town, so should you."
Belle gasps, but Gold has to nod. "It's true. I had two hundred years' head start over her."
"Regina's a hundred years old?" Belle queries.
"Don't tell her I told you."
"You're making light of this, Papa. That means you expected something like this and you've got a plan."
"A business partner warned me, so yes, I've thought about it."
"Francoise Baguette," Belle muses. "She said she'd stand up for you."
"I don't want to put her in that position. She needs to make a living in Storybrooke. I'm already making a living there." He smirks. "They may exile me, but they can't get rid of me: I own 73 percent of the buildings and 86 percent of the land within the city limits."
"Still, what about your shop, your house," Emma protests.
"I can rebuild. I'm sure New York can always use another pawn shop." Gold takes up his fiancee's hand. "Or we could really mess with their minds and have the pink house moved to the town line, half in, half out, and mark the half that's in as yours. What do you think, Belle?"
She giggles. "Now that sounds like something my imp would do."
Emma makes fists on her knees. "What about Henry and me?"
Gold falls silent then, a smile forming across his lips as the skin around his eyes softens. Belle's hand on his shoulder tightens. Bae's attention bounces between Emma and Gold and his eyes widen as he takes in the meaning behind their words.
"I thought we had kind of an agreement," Emma presses. "The baseball games? Maybe I misunderstood, huh? You claim to be a man of your word. Well, your word to me was that you wanted to be involved in Henry's life. What Henry needs from you is an example. Yeah, there's my parents, and they're great, but hell, they're Snow White and Prince Charming, for gods' sakes. How's a kid gonna live up to that? Now you–you and Neal and me, we can teach him the hard stuff: how to live in a screwed-up world, how to pick yourself up after you've screwed up.
"Look, Gold, ever since we figured out that you're Henry's grandfather, I've been, well, checking you out, to see if I want him to be around you. I had my doubts at first about whether you'd be a good influence. Hell, at first, I thought if I left him in your care, the first time he pissed you off, you might turn him into a rock or something. But then I saw how you felt about your own kid, and I knew you'd take care good care of mine. And watching you these past months–you're changing. I think it would be good for Henry to get to know you. And, uh, to tell you the truth, there are things I can talk to you about that I can't tell my parents, things that would shock them, disappoint them. Bottom line: I'm counting on you." She glances sideways at Bae, and Gold realizes she's inviting Bae into Henry's life too. Bae comes to the same understanding; his arm tightens around her shoulders.
"You're a family law attorney. Well, Henry's family. Fight for him, Papa," Bae urges. "What will he think if you don't? If you just let him go?"
Gold twinges as that dagger hits home. Still, it won't be his fight alone; Belle has as much to lose as he does, and she's an innocent party. He looks up at her. "Sweetheart, you need to have a say in this. It won't just be Snow and Charming I'll be up against, if I challenge this. It'll be the entire community. If I accept Snow's decision gracefully, the community will have no reason to turn against you. You can come and go as you please. But if I fight back, there will be such rancor, they may drive you out too. Your father, Josiah, your friends, you may be cut off from them. Who knows how long the bitterness may last?"
"Jo will stand with us," Belle declares firmly. "Our real friends will come to see us, if we can't go to them." She bends to kiss his cheek. "You're my home, Rumplestiltskin. If the tables were reversed, you'd forsake all others for me."
"Aye, but you're a good person; you've done nothing to deserve this."
"As far as we're concerned," Belle indicates Emma and Bae, "the slate is wiped clean. You are a good man. I hope someday you'll see that."
Bae's eyes flash. "Fight for your family, Papa. Don't let Henry grow up thinking you decided he wasn't worth the trouble."
"Oh, Bae, I'm sorry. I've hated myself ever since then, knowing I made you feel that way, and that you were alone, afraid, in a strange land. It wasn't power-lust that made me let go of your hand; it was fear and self-loathing. I've come to understand that over the years. In that moment, I wasn't thinking about what might happen to you. I wasn't thinking at all. I was just panicking, and I'm deeply ashamed."
Bae comes to crouch down beside his father's chair. He sets his hand on Gold's knee. "I had a lot of years to think about it, work through my feelings. I hated you for the longest time. But I changed too, Papa. I grew up too, just like you did, and I realized yesterday I had to choose: I could hold onto my anger or I could have my family back, but not both. How could I expect Henry and Emma to forgive me if I won't do the same for you? Like Belle said, the slate's wiped clean. We start over, and we fight to keep this family together. Okay?" He offers a handshake.
"Okay." Gold shakes his son's hand. "Ladies, we'd better get some rest. We'll leave right after breakfast."
"I'll be there as soon as I can," Bae promises; he has to put in for vacation first, and then he'll join his family in Storybrooke to help in whatever way he can to countermand the exile petition. Emma has even agreed to allow him to meet Henry. Bae leans into the Caddy's open window and, as Belle and Gold look on in amusement (though hardly surprise), he kisses Emma–not on the cheek, either.
Gold's chest swells. This family will stand and fight together; that matters to him far more than whether he wins back his Storybrooke residency or not.
"See you soon, Bae," Belle calls out.
Bae winks at her. "See ya, Mom."
She giggles. "Keep that up and I'll be expecting flowers on Mother's Day."
As Emma steers the big car through the relatively light Sunday traffic, Belle is already mapping out her research strategy. She doesn't mind at all that her visit to New York has been cut short; there will be plenty of future opportunities, Gold promises, with Paris and Rome and London in the offing too.
They arrive home–Gold catches himself using that term for Storybrooke–around seven Sunday night after dropping Emma off at the sheriff's station. As they reach into the trunk for their luggage, a beefy hand reaches past theirs to grab the heaviest suitcase. They spin around.
"Jo!" Belle squeals, flying into her ex-husband's arms.
"Welcome back, Bin." The big man reaches around Belle to shake Gold's hand. "Mr. G. Hope you guys had a nice trip. Since it looks like you're gonna unpack, I guess you heard about the petition."
"Snow called Emma." Belle releases him to pick up Gold's suit bag. "The bastards," she adds with a teeth-flashing growl. When the men respond with stunned silence, she defends her diction. "Yeah, well, that was mild compared to what I was thinking."
"Francoise called me when she saw the Caddy parked at the sheriff's station." A suitcase in each hand, Josiah leads the way to the porch, where Belle unlocks the front door.
"Francoise, is it?"
Dove glances at Belle. "Yeah, Ms. Baguette. Thought you knew her. "
"I do." Belle twinkles. "I didn't realize you two were on a first-name basis."
Josiah reddens. "Well, you know, I've been collecting rent these past couple of months and–"
Belle gives him a playful shove. "I was just teasing, Jo."
"Ms. Baguette is a fine person. A single mother with a teenager and a father with Alzheimer's that she takes care of," Gold remarks seriously, then he twinkles too. "A good match, especially for a man with a hearty appetite."
"Just you never mind about Ms. B." Dove sets the suitcases at the foot of the stairs. "We got business to discuss. Besides, she's on her way over. Hope you don't mind. I expect you're tired, but this can't wait."
Gold and Belle exchange a glance, surprised at Dove's sudden feistiness. "Comes from rent collecting," Gold whispers in his fiancee's ear. "Makes a person bossy."
A car pulls up in the drive and in a moment, Dove is opening the door and taking from the new arrival a loaf of French bread and a covered kettle. "Clam chowder," Francoise explains. "I thought you might be hungry after the long drive."
"Thank you, smells wonderful. Shall we adjourn to the kitchen?" Belle leads the way. Trailing, Gold finds himself wishing he'd known in the Enchanted Forest days about the power of kitchens as a negotiation tool. Warm and fed, people are so much more relaxed and ready to deal. Instead, Rumplestiltskin had tried to impress them by popping in to their own homes or familiar woods. Ah, the ignorance of youth.
He and Belle pass dishes, bread and tea around as their guests seat themselves side by side (causing Belle to smile). Jo wastes no time. "Soon as we heard about the petition yesterday, Fran and me got together to plan a counterattack. So we want to tell you what we got in mind."
"Assuming, of course, you want to stay." Francoise added. "We think you will, when you hear who's behind the exile petition."
"We've already decided to fight," Belle says. "This is our home. We don't want to leave our friends and family."
"Good," Francoise says. "Because that's how a bunch of us feel. We want you to stay."
"So who is behind the petition?"
"This'll be no surprise, Mr. G.: Regina, working through Glass and Spencer."
"Spencer's got a chip on his shoulder after all those families came to me with their custody cases instead of him. Understandable; he could've made a fortune."
"So could you, Mr. G., if you hadn't gone pro bono."
Gold shrugs. "I owed them. Didn't need the money anyway." He jerks back. "Did those words just come out of my mouth?"
"You've changed," Dove observes. "That's what we're building our case on. You're the kind of guy Storybrooke needs. The things you did wrong, you've shown remorse for, unlike Regina. You're not a villain any more."
"We're not going to argue that you shouldn't be punished," Francoise clarifies. "We're coming out swinging with a counter-petition and a counter-proposal. What we will argue is you should be assigned community service: free legal aid for those below the poverty line and working alongside the nuns and Doc Miner to provide herbal medicine to the sick. Weekly check-ins with the sheriff and Archie. And daily supervision from a person recognized as one of the most moral residents in town: Belle."
"That last condition is hardly punishment," Gold muses. "How long a community service sentence are we offering?"
"In a good-faith offering, we'll leave that decision to Queen Snow." Francoise sips her tea, her throat parched from her long speech.
"So, Mr. G., you up for it?"
Gold turns to Belle. "Sweetheart? If we go this route, it could be a long time before we see Paris."
"I have ten good reasons for choosing to stay: my father, Jo, Fran, Ruby, Bernie, Emma, Henry, Bae, Leroy and you."
"Me? Wherever we go, we're a package deal."
"Of course we are, but I think Storybrooke is a healthier place for you than New York. Here, you can be Rumplestiltskin. You won't have to hide your past; you can confront it."
"Josiah and I made a few calls last night to test the waters. We now have eleven names on the counter-petition; three of those people asked to help gather signatures. Asked, Mr. Gold," Francoise emphasizes. "Without being prompted."
"There's nothing to lose by trying," Josiah points out. "If our campaign fails, you'll be exiled. If you don't try, same difference."
"The difference is what a fight may do to anyone who takes my side. Belle could be shut out of the community. You could lose your business, Ms. Baguette. Emma could lose her bid for re-election. Henry, simply by his relation to me, could be bullied or taunted."
"He'll have Bae to help him through. I could see it in Bae's eyes: he committed to his son just as soon as he learned Henry exists," Belle comments. "As for the rest of us, we're adults; let us decide our own fate."
"I'd be an ingrate, wouldn't I," Gold's mouth quirks up, "if I walked away."
"There you go," Josiah cheers. "Fran and I better get going. Five of us will be here at nine o'clock to map this campaign." He stands, reaching across the table to shake hands with Gold. "Welcome home, folks."
A pounding at the door hauls Belle and Gold from their sleep at seven o'clock. Belle sits bolt upright and grins. "Emma! Hope she brought bagels."
She's half right: Emma's brought bagels, but she's also brought Henry. "Hiya, Grandpa, Belle!" The mom and son sashay right into the kitchen and dig into the cupboards and fridge to start breakfast.
"Hiya to you too." Gold's voice is thick with sleep.
"Your fridge is empty," Henry complains.
"I got rid of the spoilables," Belle explains. "We thought we'd be gone a couple of weeks."
"Oh well, I'll call the diner. We'll get some chow over here ASAP." Emma fishes into her pocket as she steps out into the dining room to make her call.
"We need fortification," Henry chuckles, "before we hit the bricks."
"The bricks?" Gold echoes.
"Sure. The baseball team's meeting me here at nine."
"Let me guess: you were one of the three who volunteered with Josiah," Gold muses as he plugs in the coffeemaker.
"Guess I'm number four," Henry admits. "I was over at Grace's when Mr. Dove called her dad. I don't think Mr. Dove got a whole sentence out before Mr. Hatter said,'Sign me up.' Then he told us what was going on and me and Grace decided to form a kids' coalition. I'm bringing the baseball team; Grace is bringing the Mathaletes."
"Very cool, Henry," Belle applaudes.
Gold clasps the boy on the shoulder. "Very cool indeed." Then he turns away. "Excuse me a minute." His voice breaks as he hobbles off to the bathroom.
"Did I say something wrong?" Henry frowns. "He looked kinda upset."
"Not upset: moved. You did everything right," Belle assures him. "Exactly right."