Chapter 8 Upheaval

After the predictable routine that he and Belle had established, he was flustered to find that Belle had turned his house upside down. He started to come home to moved furniture, the contents of cabinets splayed out on the floor, and the kitchen window ajar, blasting the still cold, though slightly thawing, wind. The first day of such upheaval he walked in to find her in the den up on a ladder, attempting to lift the curtain rod off its anchor with little success.

'What are you doing?'

Belle squeaked, but having had a month's worth of practice, kept herself right on the ladder, to his great relief.

'It's almost spring!' she wasn't facing him, but he could hear her smiling.

'And that means what, exactly?'

'Spring cleaning, Mr. Gold!' She did not look to catch his raised eyebrows, or the humor he was finding in her excitement.

'We need to let some sunlight in, and I need to clean these curtains. I seem to be having trouble-did you glue this on?'

This time, as she yanked on the rod, she did turn to look at him, and he was able to give her a smug 'Yes, of course I did.' as if he had any idea how it was up there. He didn't hang the curtains, and by all appearances, it seemed Mrs. Smith hadn't thought to clean them since it seemed they were a permanent fixture. He had worried over Belle's abilities, but he shouldn't have-it seemed she had blown Mrs. Smith out of the water ages ago.

Belle gave him a smile that was half reprimanding, half teasing, and sighed, and turned herself back to her work, reaching over to see if she could figure out how the rod had been installed.

He could see it before it happened.

Everything slowed down around him and without thinking, he flung himself under where she leaned and felt, rather than even saw, her tumble and they both landed with a groan on the floor.

'Mr. Gold! Are you alright?!' Belle sprung up from their position on the floor with all the ease and grace youth allowed, and held out her hand to the old cripple on the ground.

He didn't answer, but refusing her hand, used his cane to pick himself up off the floor, said what in his mind was a 'I'm fine' but felt that it probably came out as an undecipherable group of syllables. Once he was up, Belle grasped his arm, he would have stiffened, if he wasn't already feeling his leg so badly. She looked him over, as if searching for injury. He would not betray how foolish he felt, nor how his leg throbbed after the tumble, she would find nothing to read on his face, and therefore he was not surprised when she released him a few moments later, still looking concerned, but also reddening, a look of embarrassment in her cheeks.

'So you are alright then? Thank you. I can try to figure the curtains out some other time, or if you would like, I don't have to take them down at all.'

He waved her off, really wishing she would leave for a moment and let him limp out of the room out of eye shot.

'It's no matter. I'll get Dove to come see to it.' He could tell that she was longing for sunshine, probably being so full of it herself, that the curtains coming down seemed important to her. Just not at the expense broken necks, he inwardly argued

'Thank you again.' She smiled, and his lips twitched upwards a bit. She bounded off, much to his relief.

So the week was then filled with an upset to his normal evening routine, but Belle was so bouncily cheerful that he hadn't the willpower to bark at her to let her know she needed to have everything put back by the time he came home. Five days of upheaval, and then an absent Dove for an entire day so that he could help her take down curtains and then hang them back up properly this time, finally, things were back to normal. Dinner was ready when he walked in the door, everything had a place and everything had been put back in their place, and he could even admit that unbelievable though it was, even after the first couple of weeks of her doing a good clean of the house after she arrived, it was cleaner, and smelled better than it had before.

Yes, everything had gone back to normal…or so he thought.

…

It had been another taxing weekend. Easter had meant that her father's little flower shop had been even busier than normal. She had worked the shop, righted everything that had been haphazardly done, and found that though she couldn't spare much time for the apartment upstairs, she still came back to Mr. Gold's even wearier than usual.

She hoped that a quick plate of bacon and eggs would suffice for Mr. Gold's breakfast, as she stifled yawns under her hand. She waited for him to walk down, and waited…and waited. At nine she knew something was wrong. Never coming down later than eight on a Saturday or a Sunday, she knew that something had to be up with the man who seemed to live by the clock.

Stilling her nerves she stood in front of his door and dared a soft knock.

'Mr. Gold?' she half whispered, and then chastised herself, knowing that even if his ear was at the door he wouldn't be able to hear her.

'Mr. Gold, are you alright?' She knocked a bit louder and made her voice stronger.

A groan met her and that worried her enough to counter with:

'Mr. Gold, I'm sorry but I'm coming in, alright?' Silence answered her, and she turned the knob, hoping for the best.

Mr. Gold, the Mr. Gold was laying huddled underneath the covers, and Belle crept closer to where he lay, her nerves increasing with every step. The nervousness that she felt finally came in a painful crescendo, and she tried calling his name once more.

'Mr. Gold?' It came out quite shaky and small, despite her intention, but finally he seemed to rouse a little. His well put together persona shattered before her eyes as she took in his tangled hair and rumpled pajamas, though it was quite relieving to see the always well dressed Mr. Gold looking a bit more human and relatable. Her amusement to his rumpled appearance was very short-lived, as she noticed how sweaty his forehead was and how glazed his eyes looked once he opened them. It took him longer than expected for him to take her in and realize where he was and where she was.

'Belle? What are you doing here?' The words came out gravely and ended with a cough.

'It's after nine, sir.' She said gently, his confusion and very plainly written embarrassment spreading over his face. She wasn't used to being able to read him so very well and it made her about as confused as him. The confusion wasn't helped any by the use of her name. 'I was worried about you.' she added lamely.

Still a little wild looking, he squinted at the clock beside the bed to confirm the time, his forehead wrinkling as he squinted to see the numbers, and pulled a hand out to rub his forehead at the same time-making Belle guess he had a headache on top of everything else.

He groaned when he saw the time and placed his head in his hands to rub his temple more furiously.

'Alright, thank you, Belle.' A thank you and him using her name! Could the day become any stranger. I'll be down in a minute and leave for work. I doubt Dove noticed the absence, since it's his mucus-covered children who gave this to me.' She hadn't interrupted him, as he was struggling with his voice and the coughs that were sprinkling in. His words weren't making much sense, but she attempted to interrupt at this point.

'It's Sunday, Mr. Gold, you can just stay here. I'll bring you up some breakfast and some tea?'

His eyes went wide at the realization of the day, and he looked at her again and sighed.

'Just tea-I don't think I want to eat anything. Should have known it was Sunday.' He mumbled the last sentence.

'Sir?'

He coughed. 'Should have known it was Sunday-you look about dead on your feet, you always do after Moe works you half to death' He growled out, and Belle's breath hitched at his observation. She always tried to hide how tired she was, though she knew she was fooling no one, especially not one so observant as Mr. Gold-and then the distaste in his voice seemed to have been aimed at her father. She didn't know if that made her appreciate his concern or angry at his ire towards her father. She took a deep breath from making any reply that she would feel guilty for later, and simply told him that she would go and fetch his tea.

Mr. Gold was asleep again when she came back, but the ladened tray rattling with the dishes set upon it jostled him from his dozing state.

'Sorry Mr. Gold' She spoke softly, in case his head was still aching.

'Tea, water, some medicine I found in the cabinet, some tissues-I'm trying to think of anything else you might need.'

'This is more than enough, thank you' He said, still drowsy. The sickness was making his brain foggy, surely. She had never received so much thanks from him since she came!

'You are most welcome.' So-Mr. Dove-I didn't know he was sick!

'No, he brought his girls to the shop, as the sitter was out sick from the little rascals-seems the girls weren't satisfied until they had infected me with their ailment as well.'

Belle couldn't help but giggle a little. The thought of five unruly girls in Mr. Gold's hoard of mystical wonders, sneezing and coughing all over everything and Mr. Gold.

'I'm glad you find some amusement in my suffering.' Belle was quite glad to hear the sarcastic note to his musings, as it meant he was feeling a bit more himself than before.

'I'm sorry, Mr. Gold, the mental image that was conjured up of you entertaining…' Mr. Gold's eyebrows went up as if challenging her to mock what he said. She bit her lip, pushing down any continuation of what she might have said.

'Anyway, anything else I can get you before I leave?' His forehead wrinkled sadly, as if he didn't want her to leave him in peace. It prompted her to add, 'but you can text me anytime you need anything and I'll be right here.' She smiled.

'C-Could you get my ledgerbook from the study? It's black with gold letters…'

'Mr. Gold!' She couldn't help but put her hands on her hip. 'You are running a fever, and look absolutely miserable.' Mr. Gold was now sitting up on his bed, his striped pajamas making him look much more approachable, and perhaps making her so bold now. He seemed to find it vaguely amusing. 'You need to relax, not work. Now how about I bring you the Sunday paper, or something else as droll so you can be bored to sleep?'

He smirked, fevered though he might have been.

'Are you finished.' He stated.

She huffed.

'I suppose so.'

'Alright, now, go fetch my ledger book-please.' He added the last word after the other words barked out like a command. He didn't feel well, she reminded herself, so she shrugged as if exasperated and left to go fetch the stupid ledger book.

Mr. Gold must have been working in the study last night, she thought, as the desk was littered with documents. She looked around for the book, but stopped at the sight of a photograph on top of the chaotically placed papers. Without thought, she picked it up and studied it. It was a photograph of a boy-perhaps eleven or twelve, brown shaggy hair, brown eyes, and a nose that looked very familiar. In fact, if the boy hadn't been dressed in modern clothing, she would have assumed it was an old picture of Mr. Gold, the likeness was so striking. She turned it over in her hand, the name 'Neal Darling' in large loopy writing and dated about three years ago. Eventually, she remembered herself, and remembered what was asked of her, and finally found the ledger book. She also grabbed the Sunday paper and made her way to the sickroom as a thousand and one questions flooded her head. There was only one way to find out the answers…

She gently knocked before coming in.

'I brought the ledger book and the paper, just in case.' She smirked, making Mr. Gold glance pleasantly back at her in return.

'Stubborn girl.' He muttered without actually being annoyed.

'Mr. Gold?'

He looked up at her and she almost lost the nerve to ask. The curiosity would eat at her, so she swallowed before plunging ahead

'Downstairs, there was a photograph-um, of a boy?'

Mr. Gold's pleasant, albeit tired look about him suddenly changed to one of panic and anger. It scared Belle and she stepped back.

'What have you done?! How dare you go snooping around in my desk! I told you it was the one place that I forbid you go, the one place I could have a little privacy, and yet you did it anyway?!'

His coughs interrupted his stinging words. There was hurt in among the anger.

'Mr. Gold, I didn't…'

'Thought you could blackmail me out of your little deal, did you? Thought you could have something over the town monster, huh?'

His whole face was red and the picture of Mr. Gold as a dragon breathing fire towards her would have been conjured up had Belle been thinking any such thing. The way he said the words made her think that he was just spouting out the worries he had been storing up all along, yet exposing his insecurities by way of the cruel, calculated Mr. Gold her father was always going on about. It made something snap inside of Belle, no matter the anger she saw and heard, and she wasn't putting up with the accusations.

'Mr. Gold, how dare you, say such things to me, I…'

She would have said more, she would have reminded him of the last time he misjudged her, or the many times she had proven herself to him, but Mr. Gold heard none of what she said. He had worked himself up and there was no getting through to him any more than trying to persuade a wall of stone.

'Get out!' He screamed, or as well as he was able. 'Leave-get out and never come back.'

Belle breathed in horror.

'But my father…'

'Should have thought about that before you tried to weasel out my secrets, Miss French. I think you know the way to the front door.'

Mr. Gold was in a state that no one, not even the now very upset Belle French could penetrate. She stormed out the door, and as rattled as she was, couldn't even slam the door before reconsidering it in concern of Mr. Gold's headache.

In her room, she pulled out her copy of the contract.

He couldn't make her leave. She wouldn't let him.

Author's Note: dun, dun, dun! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

The ladder scene is both an essential, yet sometimes too predictable plot point of these stories, so I hope you still enjoyed it.
And yes, Baelfire is coming soon!