Chapter 17 Destructive Thoughts

Gold couldn't settle. He didn't like it, not one bit, but he didn't know how to fix it, and he wasn't used to that. All he could see as he paced the room was Belle's worn face, slumped shoulders and disheveled appearance as he paced his study floor. It looked as if she hadn't slept all night, and he wouldn't be surprised if she hadn't. He was angry. Right now he was angry at her father and he reveled in it, because if he looked too closely at the situation he would see where this was just as much his doing as her father's.

He imagined that her father must be incompetent in all areas of life: finances, the running of his shop, being a father, and Belle most likely spent the entire weekend righting all the wrongs he made throughout the week. (And whose fault is that? The honest side of his brain interjected. Whose fault is it that she is here during the week and not there where she belongs? Her being here means that all the work piles up and gets thrown on her, and it wouldn't be so if you would have just said 'no' to the blundering idiot when he asked for money.) He pushed such thoughts to the side, desperately wanting to loathe someone else and blame someone else for this. What could he do about it?

You could let her go. His stupid brain supplied and he found his glass cup that had been filled with water and sent it shattering in a million pieces as it hit the wall. He couldn't let her go, he wouldn't! She still had nine months -He still had nine months, and no amount of sentimental nonsense would allow him to go back on his deal, nor would he deprive himself of Belle and of all the promised months. She was too wonderful, too warm, too-

Crack!

Another item on his desk shattered on impact and he was too worked up to allow the sound to register, nor the crunch beneath his shoed feet to hinder his pacing.

He buried his face in his hands for a moment, cursing his thoughts for the way they bent. He had come to the conclusion (and if he thought long and hard-which wasn't something he was doing at the present moment-he had done so longer than he wanted to admit) that she meant something to him-that he had feelings for her. Feelings that he hadn't had in years, feelings that he had promised himself not to exercise, so that way he would not ever be burnt by them, or betrayed by them again. He allowed tender thoughts towards his son, for even if he was rejected as vehemently as his own father had rejected him, he would at least feel like it was appropriate penance for not finding out sooner. But for Belle-he both wanted to replay every soft smile and gentle touch she had given him since coming, and hate himself for replaying them. He ought not to feel anything for her, for she could never return them.

His thoughts went back to the topic at hand. He really was the reason that she was so dead tired. He was the reason that she worked so hard during the week, He was the reason she had ever been desperate enough to agree to his terms. It was him!

Crash!

This time it was a vase that he had actually quite liked, but he couldn't be bothered to care at that moment. He would hate himself soon enough (he always did), he was sure, so for now he would just breathe in the release it gave him to be doing something.

You could refuse her the ability to go back home. The menacing suggestion slimed its way into his thoughts, though even his most Mr. Gold, evil landlord persona would not allow the thought to fester for too long. It was a part of the contract, and just like he held on to her promise to stay with him just as tightly as a man would a lifesaver, grasping to the promise of life in a cold, dark and lonely ocean, his principles would hold tight to the promises he made as well.

His cane was poised like a weapon, taking a swing at the desk, as if beating it hard enough would cause an answer to appear. Instead a figure bathed in light blue and dripping curls came between the cane and the desk, holding her hands up and saying something-his frustration had not cooled enough to allow the words to come through.

'What are you doing, Mr. Gold?' She was shouting, and he was fairly sure those were her words. He would not hurt her, no matter that she could never love him, and he could not allow her to pretend to. He loved her. He hated that he did so, but it seemed that he could not do anything about it.

She breathed heavily, her body confident, her words firm, but her eyes alive with fear. He didn't like that-no, he didn't like that at all.

The cane went down as soon as her words were uttered, but he continued to attempt to calm himself as she looked on.

'I don't know what to do!' He shouted, drowning out the thoughts still kindling in his mind. He would quench them, he would think rationally, but he was having a hard time doing so.

Belle's hand on his arm was felt and he pulled back so hard it almost felt burned. She winced, pulling him out of his thoughts and finally focusing on her. What had he said to her?

'What's wrong, Mr. Gold? What's going on? Have you heard from Neal? Please, let me help you!' Her words shook, yet they were laced with determination and concern. She wanted to help him? Of course she did! She thought of everyone but herself!

'You need to help yourself, Belle!' He didn't shout this time, but the words were just as forceful.

'What?' Her head tilted, trying to read him, no doubt-for he seriously doubted he was making much sense.

'You are going to kill yourself if you keep doing this. You can't do everything for your father, you know that, don't you? He's an adult, Belle!' This was not what he wanted to say, nor how he would have wanted to ask her about what she was doing for her father. This was a mess-but she had startled him out of his rage, and he had yet to fully recoup his rationality or realize how much his words were revealing.

Her forehead was a mass of wrinkles, causing her eyebrows to almost reach her beautiful brown lashes.

'This' She gestured to the mess of the study. He blinked-it was truly a disaster. He hadn't had such a spell of rage in months-well, since she had come. 'is about me working at Daddy's?'

She was confused, but her words were also very soft, almost hopeful. The softness startled him more than her presence had done and he bit the side of his mouth to try to obtain some rational thought. He couldn't tell her that he had been angry for her. He might as well do what had wanted to do for weeks, pull her in, hold her tight and soak in every feeling, warmth and scent she gave. But he couldn't do that, he couldn't let her know how he felt for then he would be opening himself up to the cruelest betrayal. Instead, before he could think it through, he decided to be cruel instead. He pulled himself up, put his weight back fully on his cane, and leaned towards her.

'Yes, perhaps if you allowed your father.' The word 'father' was spit out in distaste. 'To actually take care of his own affairs, you would have more time to do what you actually promised to do here. Now please go, and leave me in peace, as you should have done instead of barging in here.

The words were like stones thrown, and Belle's face betrayed how painful they were. Guilt washed over him, but he wouldn't allow it to change his features-he had to be strong and put away these feelings that told him he was not being the friend she had told him he was but the overbearing master everyone believed he was.

Suddenly the hurt was replaced with curiosity as her eyes went back over the destruction of the study. She didn't believe him. Was then written on her face-she was ever both too quick to understand him and too open to hide her feelings. He didn't know whether to feel relieved or worried.

Her shoulders squared.

'I'm sorry, Mr. Gold. I was only trying to help. I'll go get the broom and dust pan and do what I 'promised' to do.' Her arms were now crossed as she gave him one more look before leaving with a painful wince. A wince!

All the doubt, fear, hating, and utter meanness that had been churning through him dissipated into worry as he tried to decipher what he had seen. He looked down at the mess he had made and he noticed tiny drops of blood. Belle, his Belle (no, not his Belle-not when he had done this to her) was hurt, and he was the cause. His resolve to not allow his feelings to be known dissolved into a desire to beg her forgiveness.

Belle came back and his eyes instantly went in search of the injury. She walked in on the balls of her feet, though doing nothing to try to draw attention to it. In fact, he had a hard time observing her, as she held the broom and dustpan in front of her. He reached out and took the cleaning items, startling her. She looked at him wondering.

'You're hurt' He said, his voice having lost all its cruel coldness that he had used before.

'Yes, just a little-I'll tend to it here in a minute. Serves me right 'barging in on you' like that, I suppose.' There was only a tiny bit of bitterness to her voice-just enough that it hurt to hear his own words replayed, though he deserved much worse.

'Come.' He motioned to her, then gently placed his hand on her elbow, allowing her to lean on him if she wanted to as they went back into the kitchen. She was a bit wary of him still, his words still stinging, he was sure. How could he have been so cruel to her?

He led her to a chair where she still looked at him confused. He limped to a cabinet where he pulled out the kitchen first aid kit and took out the tweezers. He then glanced down at her bare feet in worry and self hatred.

The kit was placed on the table and he pulled out a chair to be opposite her.

'Can-Can I see your foot?'

Belle's eyes went wide, though he knew she must have understood what he was doing. She did what he asked and he took in every scrape and embedded glass in horror.

'I'm sorry.' He said simply-he needed to say more. 'I didn't mean what I said.'

Her face was still riddled with confusion. 'I didn't think you meant it-or at least I hoped you didn't. The garden, the breakfast, what you've done for me and what you just said has greatly confused me.'

Why were you so cruel? That was the question she wasn't asking, though he could tell that it was what she was thinking.

'I didn't. I didn't mean any of it. I have worried about you, and how tired you are when you come back, though it has nothing to do with your chores. I've been worried that it's really my fault that you are here, since I forced you here. I-' I love you and don't want anything to happen to you.

'Thanks for worrying about me, but don't blame yourself.' She smiled at him-a pained smile, he knew the scratches must smart. ' I'm probably a bit of an enabler with Daddy. And in his defense, he didn't ask me to do any of those things, but after momma died-I felt like I needed to do those things for him, and he's come to rely on me to do them. I hate to admit it, but I almost like the feeling of being wanted-of being needed. It's a failing of mine, Ruby tells me, well, used to tell me, all the time. I haven't seen her in a while, so I haven't been told off about my enabling issues. Perhaps this is just as good.' She chuckled then hissed as he placed peroxide on the cuts, apologizing as he did so-he so hated to see her in pain.

'But that doesn't excuse what I said. I have once again used my words to hurt you. You told me one time that we were…' Could he tell her this? Could he bare his soul to her once again? 'Friends?'

She nodded her head, not quite understanding just how significant a statement that would be.

'Does that bother you? I just thought…' She began.

'No, no, I'm just not used to that.' it was his turn for a self depreciating chuckle. 'And to tell you that I worry about you means allowing you the ability to take advantage of that worry.' Nerves bundled in his chest, though he steadied his hands to place the bandages on her feet. He breathed out, ready to hear her laugh at him, roll her eyes, or-well, he didn't know what her reaction would be. All he knew was that now having his thoughts in the open made him realize how pathetic he was, and how he might as well have told her he loved her, the pain would be the same.

'Well.' She placed a hand on his arm, her feet now taken care of. He looked up at her with both surprise and fear. 'I'll just have to prove you wrong about me. You have been a great friend to me, Mr. Gold, and I would never want to take advantage of that.' She said it all with so much meaning that he was deathly tempted to pull her in. 'And I like being here and working for you. You didn't force me, I did it out of my own free will. I will try to figure something out with Daddy, though. Can't have you destroying your office over me every week.' Her eyes were sparkling and he breathed relief and smiled at her.

'I'm sorry about that too. Don't worry about cleaning it, it's my fault that I don't have my temper under control.'

She smiled again. 'We can do it together, okay? I am putting my shoes on before I go in there this time, though.'

She left him to go get her shoes, and he limped hurriedly to try to clean as much as he could before she came down and insisted on helping. He didn't really think Belle was an enabler, he imagined she was just so kind and forgiving and had a true desire to help. No, her weakness was being too forgiving. She should have been much angrier at him. One day she would be too forgiving to the wrong person and they might hurt her (worse than he already had). He didn't want to think about that, instead he promised himself that she would never witness his pathetic loss of temper again. He needed to find some way to overcome it. Perhaps he needed to ask Belle for some recipes.

Author's Note: Though I had an idea of where the chapter needed to go in order to get us to Neal, it went completely haywire, and this is what you get. Sorry for the angst. I almost didn't include the hateful words Gold gives, but it's always been his go to, that even though he IS trying to do better, it can get the best of him sometimes-at least he is growing, in that he is quicker to own up to it. So, Gold puts foot in mouth, and then tries to make up for it, strikes again!
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! We ARE getting to Neal next chapter, so let the fun begin!
Let me know if you liked it (or if you have constructive criticism, I really don't mind), as comments really help me as I post. Thanks!