Chapter 2

The next day found him back at the hospital, almost collapsing under the weight of the biggest bouquet of flowers he had managed to purchase at the flower stall in the hallway of the hospital.
He was nervous, he realized, as the bouquet almost slipped from his sweaty grip.

This woman had saved the life of his son at the risk of her own. How was he ever going to convey his thanks to her?
Taking a deep breath to steel his nerves, he knocked on the door to announce his presence and opened it further.

Over the flowers, he spotted her lying in the hospital bed, dressed in a yellow gown and propped up against various pillows.

"Miss French…?" he asked tentatively.

Startling blue eyes turned towards him and she frowned for a second before her face lit up in comprehension.
"Mr. Gold?"

He gave an affirmative nod, carefully placing the flowers on the foot end of her bed. Opening his mouth to express his gratitude, trying to remember the glowing speech he had rehearsed in the car, he was cut off by her anxious words.

"How is Bae doing?"

"He's…" faltering slightly at her unexpected question, he stuttered. "He's doing well… very well in fact. He came out virtually unscratched… he's in school right now."

"Good.." Relaxing back against the pillows, Miss French gave him a dazzling smile and for a moment he forgot how to breathe.

"I've been so worried about him."

"Thank you," he finally managed empathically. "You saved my son's life… if it hadn't been for you…" he let the statement hang in the air, even uttering the words being too painful. "I can never thank you enough… I'm in your debt forever."

"You don't own me anything," she told him, gazing up at him earnestly, blushing to the roots of her hair at his words. "Anyone would have done the same in that situation."

At the age of three Bae had suffered from a diaper rash so severely that he'd barely been able to sit. While staying with him during his monthly weekend visits, the fruits and vegetables he had fed his son had been a complete novelty to the toddler.
When his son woke in the middle of the night from the terrors of his nightmares he sobbed constantly: 'please don't leave me alone, papa', making him realize that Bae was seeking confirmation that he wouldn't leave him again, a fear that was very real to him.

He would never take another person than himself caring about the safety and well-being of his son for granted.

"I'm sorry you got hurt in the process," he offered sincerely.

"It's nothing too serious," she waved away his concern. "Just a few bruises and scratches."

That, he knew, was understating matters. There was a bruise the size of an egg on her temple that made him wince in sympathy from just looking at it.
From what Dr. Whale had told him over the phone, he knew that the bruise indicated a nasty concussion and that she in addition suffered from three cracked ribs and a sprained wrist, all sustained from when she had been thrown over the hood of the car and slammed into the ground.

"Thank you for the flowers, they are beautiful," she continued, reaching out to touch the colorful petals, hissing in discomfort when the movement proved to be too much for her.

"Here, let me…" he hastened himself, moving the bouquet up. "I'll go and find a vase for them."

"They'll really brighten up the place," she said with another heartfelt smile.

She was so happy, so full of joy, even when she was lying in the hospital with rather severe injuries and in what he suspected was quite some pain.
He'd been unspeakably happy when he'd gotten his son back a year ago, but the bright, undiluted joy this woman was emitting was something else all together.

He found her a vase and managed to arrange the flowers in a way that didn't completely ruin the bouquet and then he sat down at the single chair next to her bed.
He asked after her recovery and whether or not the hospital staff was treating her well and she asked him some more about Bae.
He then asked how she was settling into Storybrooke and if she enjoyed working at the library. Which let to a discussion of books and the town they were both living in that flowed easily, until a brisk looking orderly came into the room to inform him that visiting hours had ended ten minutes ago and he realized with surprise that he'd been with her for more than an hour already.

"Thank you for coming to see me," she told him genuinely. "Say hi to Bae for me."

"I will," he promised, shuffling his feet awkwardly. "I wish you a speedy recovery, Miss French."

His son appeared to be wholly unaffected by the entire ordeal until three days after the accident. On Sunday morning, just as they were having breakfast, Bae suddenly turned towards him, his brown eyes looking worried.
"Papa… will they close the library if Miss French has to stay at the hospital?"

"No, they won't," he replied carefully. "Miss French is the Head Librarian but there are other people working there too and they'll take over for as long as she is ill."

"Will she be all right then?" Bae asked, still looking apprehensive. "Is she coming back to the library?"

"She will in a few weeks," Gold reassured him. "She just needs some time to recover."

"She looked very hurt," Bae told him in a small voice. "After the accident I mean… she was lying very still and Miss Ray told me not to look, but I did and she wasn't moving."

Gold wasn't surprised at the sudden information his son was offering. He had learned over time that children, and Bae in particular had a habit of carrying on with their little lives initially like nothing had happened and only volunteered information of their own accord days later.

"Well, I went to see her the day before yesterday," he told him. "And Miss French was doing a lot better by then. She was sitting up and talking and everything. So you don't have to worry about the library anymore."

Bae nodded at that and carried on with his breakfast, but something oddly pensive in his eyes told Gold that he still wasn't entirely reassured.
He was proven right when after breakfast, Bae headed to his play corner and announced that he was going to make Miss French a drawing and continued to work diligently on it for the next hour.

He debated the decision all morning, but between Bae's lingering anxiety and his own vague desire to see her again, he packed up Bae and his drawing into the car that afternoon and drove to the hospital, hoping he wasn't grossly invading on her privacy.

As he arrived just when visiting hour had started, they were easily admitted to her room and he felt once again fraud with nerves as he tapped the door, Bae clinging tightly to his hand.
She called out for admittance and as he opened the door he was greeted by the sight of her sitting once again propped up against the pillows, a book and her lap, her face breaking into a beaming smile at the sight of them.

"Hello… this is a nice surprise…" she said, tossing the book on the nightstand beside her bed. For a moment her eyes met his and there was such a warmth in them that he faltered at it.
Then she turned her attention towards his son, her smile becoming even wider, if such a thing was possible.

"Hi Bae, how are you?"

And to his immense surprise his shy, introvert son who barely dared to look people he didn't know well in the eye, let go of his hand and wandered over to her bed, looking up at her with a grin.

"I'm fine and I've made you this!" he held out the scroll of paper and she took it eagerly, indicating for him to come closer so they could look at the drawing together. Carefully untying the bow that held the scroll together, she rolled out the drawing and squeaked in delight.

"You drew Spiderman! I love Spiderman!"

Considering she was currently looking at the red and blue stick figure his son had drawn, Gold was duly impressed by the fact that she had been able to recognize the superhero that was currently the object of Bae's fascination.

As Bae launched of in a lengthy explanation of every scratch and doodle on the paper, looking at the librarian as if she had hung the moon, Gold watched the scene in front of him enfold with fascination.
Bae liked her. He really liked her. And apart from his father, his therapist, his teacher and a handful of friends, Bae didn't usually like anyone.

Slowly making his way towards the bed, the corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. "Your powers of recognition astound me, Miss French."

She quirked a smile at him, a dimple appearing in her cheek. "I am a librarian, Mr. Gold. I make it my business to read everything."

"I hope we're not intruding?" he then asked, his expression turning serious.

"No, not at all," she replied instantly. "I'm glad you came… I was going stir crazy here by myself."

"You didn't get any visitors this afternoon?" he asked bewildered.

She shook her head, giving a wry smile in resignation. "I just moved here and I've been so busy setting up the library that I haven't had the chance yet to get to know the people here."

"Have you had any visitors since you've been admitted?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"Yes, you!" she replied brightly.

That could not be cause for celebration, he realized, vexed by the thought that she'd been here all alone for days.

"What's that on your head?" Bea asked suddenly, indicating the bruise on her temple.

"That, oh, I hit my head," Belle answered smoothly. "It's just a bump."

"I have scrapped knees," Bae confided in her, rolling up his jeans to show them. The scrapes were scabbed by now, the redness around them almost gone, but Bae still looked reasonable proud of them.

"Really?" Belle asked, fighting the smile of her face. "They look impressive."

"Yeah," Bae agreed in a satisfied tone of voice. "Nicolas Tillman has scraped knees too, but he just got them because he fell from the monkey bars. I got mine in a real accident."

Caught between amusement and mortification, Gold held his breath until Belle burst into laughter and then he joined her.

After a few seconds however, she grimaced, grabbing her left side as she tried to suppress her mirth.

"Are you all right?" he asked worried.

"Ribs… shouldn't laugh…" she wheezed, trying to compose herself.

"I think you're right," she said, turning towards his son. "Your scrapes are way cooler."

And he had never seen his son beam at anyone besides him like that before.

On Tuesday he was back at the hospital, carrying an early edition of 'Little Dorrit', hoping she would enjoy it.
The idea of paying her a visit again had been plaguing his thoughts ever since he and Bae had left the hospital on Sunday and he was a little embarrassed to admit that he hadn't been able to hold out any longer.

He was just checking up on her, he told himself. Just making sure she was comfortable and well looked after, after risking her life to save his son.
That she was easy to talk to was just an added bonus.

But when he entered the hospital room that afternoon, she looked decidedly less like her usual, cheerful self, with her red-rimmed eyes and a pale face.

"Are you all right?" he asked immediately, stepping closer towards the bed.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Gold!" Her smile was genuine and she beckoned for him to come closer. "It's so nice to see you again."

He sat down and they talked for a bit. He gave her the book, which she loved and she asked once more after Bae and to his amusement he noticed that she had pinned the Spiderman drawing on the billboard behind her bed.
They talked easily and after a while she seemed to brighten up somewhat, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

And when visiting hour came to an end, he found that he couldn't let himself leave without getting to the bottom of it.

"Are you sure everything is all right?" he asked tentatively. "It's only… you seem a little out of sorts."

She gave him an embarrassed smile as if she'd been caught out. "I received a bit of bad news this morning," she admitted.

"Oh…" Immediately sitting down again, he gave her a concerned look. "Will you tell me about it?"

"Well, it's really not a big deal…" she started, "and I should have seen it coming, but I didn't and…I'll just have to get used to the idea, that's all…"

He continued to look at her imploringly, silently encouraging her to continue.

"They want to discharge me from the hospital, but I'm not ready yet to go home."

"Why not?" he asked bewildered, her words not making any sense to him. If she hadn't healed properly, then why weren't they keeping her?

"Because of my wrist and the ribs I can't shower by myself, or get dressed, or cook, or do anything really…" she explained. "And since I live alone and I have no-one to care for me… Dr. Whale has suggested that I go to a rehabilitation center for three weeks…

He even gave me a brochure of a place in Lewiston…" she handed him a brochure Gold glanced at the name on the top.

'Blue Fern Sanatorium', he read out loud.

"Yeah," she nodded resignedly. "It doesn't sound like much fun, but it'll be for the best. I can't be home by myself at the moment, Dr. Whale is right about that."

"I'm sorry," he offered, the feeling of responsibility for her situation making his stomach twist.

"Hey, it's hardly your fault," she reassured him. "It's only three weeks, they'll be over before I even know it."

Her words sounded cheerful, but they didn't lighten his mood. After what she had done, she didn't deserve any of this.

"I'm really glad you came by," she told him, her smile reaching her eyes for the first time that morning. "I'm already feeling a lot better."

It was something at least, but to him it hardly felt like it was enough.

That evening, after he had tucked Bae into bed, he opened his laptop and googled the website for Blue Fern Sanatorium and only after five minutes of browsing it, he could already feel his stomach sinking.
What on earth had Whale be thinking, referring her to a place like that?

There were a few photos on the website, showing various rooms entirely decorated in beige. On the main page was a photo of the physician in charge, a Dr. Faye Blue, looking into the camera with a rather terrifying scowl.

A hefty portion of the website was dedicated to the 'rules and guidelines' of the sanatorium and as he read the list, his indignation grew.

No visitors allowed outside visiting hours. Family members only. Must be approved by staff.

Food and drink not allowed in the rooms.

Electronic appliances of any kind (including cellphones) are prohibited.

Curfew from 9:00 PM to 8:00 AM. Patients are obliged to stay in the room.

Daily physical therapy is mandatory.

Patients are obliged to wear the attire provided by the Sanatorium. Own clothes not allowed.

With a snarl of disgust Gold closed his laptop with a snap. Compared to this federal prison looked more inviting.
There was no way in hell he would allow friendly, cheerful Belle French to be shipped off to a place so atrocious.

Only, what other options were there? Belle had been right, with her condition still so fragile, she couldn't be in her own apartment all by herself.
Briefly he toyed with the idea of bullying Whale into keeping her at the hospital at the threat of turning the man out of his beloved bachelor pad.

Then another thought occurred to him, an idea that send the blood pounding through his veins. An idea that he initially brushed it off with an impatient shake of his head.

It was ridiculous and utterly impracticable.

But for the rest of the evening he wasn't quite able to get it out of his mind. And by the time he was getting ready for bed himself he found that he was already figuring out solutions to a vast array of practical problems.

He had a guest room with an adjourning bathroom that would be perfect for her. Walking the stairs would be a bit of challenge for her in the beginning, but the guest room was only on the first floor, so it was doable.
She could take her physical therapy at Storybooke Hospital and he could hire a nurse to help her with bathing and such.

Bae would love having her around.

By the time his eyes drifted shut, his mind was made up. He was going to offer Miss French to recover at his home.

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