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Chapter Text

Belle tapped her finger against her leg in a happy rhythm, humming softly under her breath as she let her eyes sweep over the words in front of her. Anticipation made her gnaw on her bottom lip as she shaped the words she'd read countless times before, her heart fluttering. Mentally she changed the main characters grey eyes with warm brown ones, his blonde and short curly hair becoming long brown strands, greying at the temples.

Perfect.

"But to not love you, know not the joy of your hand in mine, the feeling of your soft lips... what a terrible world! One that I'll not care to be apart of, at a price that steep."

Renee's eyes glittered with jewel-like tears, an emerald ocean. "Oh Roderick! No price is too steep should it mean you live, surely this you must know! I'll not-"

The book was suddenly wretched from her hands and Belle jumped.

"Oh Roderick!" Gaston mocked in a high pitched voice, holding the book away from his dripping body and dancing around Belle's grasping hands. "No price is too steep should it mean you live..." he laughed and looked at her with a single eyebrow raised. "Seriously, Belle...? What is this garbage?"

"Romance," she spat back, pouting when he continued to keep the book away from her. She was at the best part! Renee was about to find a way for them to escape the fearsome warlock together and she refused to let Gaston ruin the moment. "Not that you'd know about that, considering the lack of it in your life!" He merely smirked and held the book higher. Bloody hell.

Belle cursed her short nature and leveled him with the fiercest glare she could muster. Judging by the way his smirk only widened, she was less than successful.

"Gaston give it back! You're going to ruin it and it's very hard to find a secondhand copy of that in decent condition!" At her statement, he stopped, staring at her as if she'd grown two heads. She held his thoroughly befuddled look unwavering, hands clenched into fists at her side. Already the burning excitement she had felt was lowering to more of a smoldering interest and Belle cursed softly. Why did he have to be such a jerk?

"Belle, you're a librarian. Finding this book - Her Handsome Hero -" he pulled a face at the title and Belle clenched her teeth, ”would take you probably less than an hour." Gaston wiggled his head side to side in consideration, a full blown smile tugging at his lips. Damn him.

She shook her head slowly, using the slight movements hopefully draw his complete attention before making a desperate lunge at him and succeeding only in almost falling into the pool. Gaston caught her though, a quick arm wrapping around her waist and a rumbling laugh that tickled the bottom of her ear.

Just brilliant...

"That wasn't very smart Belle," he loosened his arm a bit and she squealed, clinging to him. "If I let you go, you'd just fall. You know that, right?"

She glared. "You wouldn't."

Gaston met her challenging gaze and held it, blue and blue set in a silent standoff. He broke first. "You're right, you're right." And only when he pulled her a safe distance from the pool did Belle spring into action, snatching her book and smacking Gaston across the back of his head. Little droplets of water flew off of him and splashed against her, but Belle couldn't care less.

Still laughing, he ran his hands briskly down his arms, trying to knock off the excess water and then shaking his hair like a dog might. Belle sputtered. However when he looked back up at her, his smile faded just a little, attention captured by something right behind her head. As discreetly as she could Belle turned, her hands pushing her farther in the pretense of popping her back.

Across the pool were three women, all of them looking straight through her and at Gaston. Each of them had copious amounts of skin showing, even for being at a pool, the hunger in their eyes unmistakable. Belle sighed softly, not this again. Why was it that every time she and Gaston came to pool together there was always some woman (or women) batting their eyelashes at him?

Couldn't they see that he was clearly uncomfortable? It didn't matter to them, Belle supposed. But she did know how to fix it.

Deliberately Belle turned back to Gaston, sliding her hand up his bare chest and pushing up onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. She didn't move, staying in the intimate embrace as his arms automatically wrapped around her waist. This was so weird...

There was silence, the only sound that of water gently lapping against the wall of the pool. One of them moved, the sound loud against the wet concrete. Belle couldn't tell if she had shuffled closer or father away, and she didn't risk moving to see. Gaston's arms tightened around her. Another quiet lap of the water, this time surpassing the wall and washing over Belle's feet. One more second of silence, another shift from the women across from them, and Belle finally pulled back. Hopefully her little display had gotten the message across. But just in case...

"You know I'd stay here forever, sweetie, but the library needs inventory done and you promised you'd help." She winked up at him, giggling a little at his grateful look. With a nod he reached behind them to grab his shirt, pulling it on and taking her offered arm without hesitation. Belle beamed. This man was so far from the one that she'd known, more self aware and level headed. Less of an absolute pig.

Three months ago, Gaston would've reveled in the attention of the women, but he'd been a different man then. The night that they'd met at The Rabbit Hole and he'd attempted to flirt his way into her bed (an attempt that ended when she dumped her drink over his head and slapped him), had been the last time they'd ever interact, as far as Belle had been concerned. But then he'd shown up at the library. And apologized.

She'd been so shocked that the book she'd been re-shelving had fallen right out of her hands and landed onto the floor with a soft thump. Gaston Abbot was a loudmouthed party animal. Everybody knew that. He drank and slept his way through town, bouncing from bed to bed on a daily basis. Everyone either loved him, hated him, or wanted to be him.

But Belle had learned the truth. The party animal was a cover, a disguise. It was a face he put on to please others and fill his respective role in society.

Gaston Abbot was quiet. With an awkward sense of humor and a surprisingly keen mind. He spoke freely, but smoothly, quiet and assured. He was also gorgeous. According to everyone.

Except Belle, apparently. From the moment he'd apologized for his "ungentleman like and crudely inappropriate behavior", they'd become friends. Really, really good friends. But that was all she could see him as, a big brother.

And she wouldn't have it any other way. The town might see her as their quirky, perky and odd librarian, Gaston as their very own playboy, the "perfect couple", but that wasn't the truth.

"Thanks," he said quietly, flashing her an embarrassed grin and running a hand through his still damp hair. "I um, I didn't want to..." Gaston gestured across the street to the gym where to women were no doubt sulking in their own bitter disappointment.

Belle's eyebrows creased as she studied him, trying to see what all the other women saw. Sure, he had a great body, but it wasn't as great as his mind. His eyes were blue, not quite as blue as her own, but still very blue. She only really noticed when they were disagreeing about something and his eyes would practically glow as he defended his stance.

"Belle...is everything okay?" She blinked up at him, wincing a little at his worried frown. Next time she wanted to try and find something that attracted her about Gaston, she should probably wait until he wasn't standing right in front of her.

Still though, she didn't get it. Maybe she was odd.

"Yeah, everything is great! I'm just..." she shook her head a little and ruffled his hair with her free hand. "Trying to see it." His eyebrows drew low over his eyes in confusion. Not saying a word, Belle let him puzzle it out slowly, laughing at his fake hurt glare.

"You mean you don't find me...attractive," he struck an impressive pose, with his arms raised over his head and behind his back, showing off his biceps. "Or irresistible?"

Belle clicked her tongue and patted his cheek softly. "I find you about as attractive as I find that lamppost." Gaston's pose dropped and he met her gaze with a genuine smile.

"I know, and it's nice. To be seen as a human being and not a piece of meat. Besides," his gaze turned a little sly, "I know you've got your sights on someone else. Someone older and more... experienced." He threw a significant glance at the pawn shop and Belle smacked him again, hard enough to hurt this time.

"Come off it, Gaston!" She hissed lowly, feeling her cheeks pink and her stomach clench just a little. Though she would never tell him as much, Gaston was right.

Gold was a mystery. He was older, true, but in the oh-please-bang-me kinda way. He walked with a cane, but Belle wasn't sure he knew that. There was no reason for a man with a cane to be that sexy. And damn it all, Belle loved a good mystery. "Do that again and I'll cut out your tongue."

It was a weak threat, especially considering the fact that he towered over her by at least two feet, but Belle thought she had sounded rather convincing. The laugh that he was obviously trying to smother told her otherwise.

Gaston took a big step back and gave a little wave. "See ya 'round, Belle! Always a pleasure!"

Belle glared at his retreating form and stuck out her tongue childishly.

He might've not actually seen her playful jab, but that was beside the point since he hadn't responded. And because of that she'd clearly won.

Feeling much better, Belle sighed and went inside, intent on washing her thoughts of Gold away with wine. And a cold shower.

Chapter Text

In all honesty, Gold was at the end of his tether. While it was true that he preferred Archie Hopper to most people in this town, it didn't change his regulations. "To be frank, Mr Hopper, I care nothing about anniversaries nor that ruby necklace you'd like to by for Miss Lucas. If you don't have the money, it stays here with me."

Archie turned beet red and cleared his throat, meeting Gold's eyes. "I understand Mr Gold, truly I do!" His fingers fiddled nervously with the scarf wound around his neck, then pulled away to push his glasses farther up his nose. "B-But y'see, Mayor Mills, she held my check. Says it was an emergency situation and that I'll be payed on Friday, tomorrow!"

Gold stood his ground, unamused. "Your point, Mr Hopper?" Because surely he must've had something better than that. Though to the man's credit, no one else had been brave enough to include the mayor into their sob stories, and Gold felt an inkling of respect for that. Of course, it was entirely possible that Regina had held Hopper's check, in which case, there would be no way for him to get the necklace. Not without being short on rent.

Which he'd already payed.

Either way, not Gold's problem. Archie shifted nervously and met his eyes with pure desperation.

"Mr Gold, our anniversary is tomorrow and Ruby has already stated her intentions to buy it when she gets payed, which is in the morning. I won't get payed until late afternoon... could you... put it on hold? Tell Ruby it's been bought?"

Gold blinked and looked down at his feet, allowing his long hair to hide his calculating expression. Archie would no doubt be here with the money as soon as he got payed, and Gold knew how in love he was with the naturally wild waitress at Granny's. That wasn't the point. The point was the reputation that he would no doubt blow, his empire of fear crumbling to dust with a single breathed word.

"Your love life is none of—“ Gold was suddenly cut off by a new voice.

"Papa?" Bailey wiped tiredly at his eyes as his bleary gaze swung between Gold himself and Archie. His little curls were thoroughly tousled from his afternoon nap, eyes wet and sleepy. Quite suddenly though, he lit up. "Doctor Hopper! I've been meaning to give this to you but I always forget!" He held up his index finger, indicating his desire  for them to wait, and darted back into Gold's workroom.

He returned a second later, holding a bundled up coat in his arms. It appeared that he'd attempted to fold it up, but the edges weren't lined up quite right, leaving it in a sort of dark brown wad. "Here's your jacket back!"

Archie grinned and knelt down to take it from him. "Thank you Bailey! And you even folded it for me?" Bailey squirmed a little, his cheeks rushing with color. And while Doctor Hopper didn't seem in the least bit surprised that Bae had his jacket, Gold was. Perhaps he'd not mention it. It wasn't as though they'd done anything wrong after all. Still…

Gold's curiosity got the better of him. "Bae, why did you have Doctor Hopper's jacket?" He thought back. Bae had gotten a new coat just a month ago! Gold had payed a ridiculous amount of money for the thing, at Bailey's insistence. Surely one month wasn't long enough to outgrow a coat?

Bailey squirmed again. "Do you know Dylan, Papa? Dylan Fisher?" Gold took a moment to think. Sure, the name sounded familiar... he'd seen him once, a little boy with blonde hair and untrusting brown eyes...

It finally clicked. "Sarah's foster kid?" Bae nodded, scuffing the ground with the toe of his shoes.

"Yes. Well Miss Fisher told Dylan that if he wanted a coat, he should get a J-O-B. Miss Nolan told us that spelled job. And we tried to find someone who needed help but ev’ryone said he was too little!” Bae swiped a hand through his hair, his eyes animated. "Well after we stopped looking, Emma gave him her jacket, because he was really cold."

Gold sighed, a mental picture starting to form. "And you gave Miss Emma your coat?" Bailey nodded, looking rather pleased with himself.

"But I got cold too. Remember when you let me go over to Emma's?" Gold nodded. "Well we went to the park right after school, and that's when we saw Doctor Hopper. With Pongo! He asked me if I was cold and when I said ‘Yes sir’ he gave me his jacket!" Bailey beamed at Hopper who was turning an interesting shade of red.

Gold turned to Archie. "This true?"

Hopper shrugged and gave a little nod. "Y-Yes Mr Gold. I meant no harm by it! It's just he looked cold and-" Gold raised his hand.

"Why did you not bring this up earlier?" He'd had his fair share of people use Bailey to try and get a leg up on him. His six year old son was his only weakness, in the eyes of the town. They were right... mostly. The image of a tiny brunette flashed behind his eyes and Gold clenched his jaw. He didn't know her enough to consider her a weakness. Either way, Hopper had an advantage, one he hadn't used. Gold wanted to know why.

Archie frowned in genuine confusion. "Why would that matter?"

Surely he must know. Not that Gold actually thought that Archie would use Bailey against him, but the advantage he had couldn't have gone unnoticed—not even by him. Nobody could have that good intentions. Gold’s childhood had been rough, but in a way he'd benefited from the harsh experiences. His ability to read people had never once failed him and all he could see looking into Hopper’s eyes was genuine confusion.

That changes nothing, Gold reminded himself. People like Archie Hopper were the ones who would love everything to someone they trusted.

Gold would know.

Still though, Bailey obviously held a great affection for the man in question and there was no way for Gold to ignore that. Besides, what the hell was he supposed to do with a ruby necklace? He had no real purpose for it. It was merely another trinket in his vast collection.

One he could most certainly afford to lose.

A beam of light shot off the necklace, mocking Gold with the way it glittered. In truth the piece had no appeal him. Sure it would fetch a profit, but the style of the necklace was suited for only one person in Storybrooke. "Take it," he said finally. Archie jumped, looking at him with a hesitant expression of hope. "Take it. And tell no one of this." Because if his hard earned reputation was lost in this single moment, Gold would know who to target.

Archie slid the cash across the counter, fingers twitching anxiously at his side. "You'll have the rest by noon tomorrow, Mr Gold! Thank you!" Gold thought for a moment, then waved a hand in dismissal.

What the hell? In for a penny, in for a pound. Not to mention a quick glance at Bae showed his boy gaping at him.

"You were only short fifty. Think of it as interest, for the jacket."
He watched - amused - as Archie's mouth opened and closed a few times. His voice shook as he whispered, "Thank you, Mr Gold."

It was only after Hopper left that Bae spoke up. "You let him leave. With that necklace."

Gold nodded, dropping his head into his cupped hands. "Yes, Bailey, I did." All of his reassuring thoughts dissolved into nothing as another beam of light highlighted the empty case. The necklace should still be there.

His necklace should still be there.

Gold’s reputation would be ruined. He might as well pack up and move now. What had he been thinking? He was the landlord, a businessman, not a weak minded fool. He had gotten so caught up in the idea of being a hero that he had forgotten he was a villain. Gold didn't slay dragons for pretty maidens, he was the dragon.

What on Earth had come over him?

His reasoning came back in a flood of warmth as Bailey flung himself into Gold's arms with a smile. "He looked so happy, Papa! D'you think we can make other people happy sometimes? Good people like Doctor Hopper." His boy looked so pleased with him that Gold swallowed harshly and forced himself to actually consider his choices.

Could he? Yes. Gold knew the power he had over this town. He knew how to break people down, or how to build them up. But would he? That was the big question. The status he had wasn't one that had fallen onto his lap with a little red bow. Gold had fought for the respect he was regarded with today, the quivering boy from Glasgow nothing more than a memory.

Fuel to the fire. His reason for being who he was today. Nobody—nobody, nobody, nobody—would ever sneer at him with disgust or disregard again. But for his boy? Could he push that new found pride aside and do what was being asked of him?

Was it worth losing his reputation if not his empire?

For his son he'd consider anything. For his boy, Gold might try. Even so, better not to say anything too binding.

Gold looked down at Bailey, smiling. "We'll see, m'boy. We'll see."

That was all he could promise.

Chapter Text

"Papa, if you're looking for Miss French she won't be here until one o'clock. She told us that during Story Time." Bailey took another big bite of ice cream and Gold winced as a drop of chocolate splashed onto his cream colored jeans. He'd just bought those last week! 

"It has nothing to do with Miss French, Bae. I was merely taking in the surrounding." An important life lesson, Gold thought. Perhaps Bae would soon be old enough to understand that.

Bailey put his spoon down with a clink, the silverware balancing momentarily on the edge of the bowl before falling into the ice cream and sending a spatter out onto the table. "The surroundings around the library? Because that's where you've been looking for the past ten minutes." He could see the smile his son was trying to hide, Bae's eyes bright with amusement.

Behind him Gold heard a snicker and he gnashed his teeth. "I may have been slightly concerned for Miss French's wellbeing," taking a sudden interest in the dessert in front of him Gold sighed. "But you say that she told you what during Story Time?"

Bailey blinked, then furrowed his brows in concentration. "She told us that she needed to do inventory," he trailed off, color rising in his cheeks. "Well she told Mr Abbot. I just overheard."

Checking his frustrated growl, Gold made a sound that he hoped conveyed his disinterest. Truly it didn't matter. Miss French was a vision, an oasis in the desert, nothing he could ever hope to deserve. What was the bloody point of mooning over her like a schoolboy?

"Papa..." Bailey was looking at him with a mixed expression, obviously unsure what was going on in Gold's mind. To be honest, neither did Gold. "Is the ice cream bad?"

"No, son. The ice cream is great." To prove his point, Gold took a bite of his own, focusing solely on the taste of it and not the beautiful woman who seemed to always be on his mind. Bailey didn't look entirely convinced, but he took another - albeit hesitant - bite of his own ice cream, looking at Gold like he expected some form of approval.

Gold sighed and leaned forward, wanting to reassure his son, but managed only to make a sort of startled grunting sound when a sweet voice chirped, "Bailey! I didn't expect to see you here!"

Unbelievable.

By the time Gold snapped out of it, Belle had walked her way over to their table and was kneeling in front of a blushing Bae, her smile enough to light up the town. Her hair was pulled up into an elaborately styled ponytail, wisps of chestnut curls handing around her face. She was a goddess.

And Gold wanted nothing more than to kneel at her feet. When had the burning curiosity inside of him transformed into this? He was beyond infatuated. It was the purest kind of desire coursing through his veins, turning him into a stuttering wreck anytime she privileged him with a smile.

"Papa takes me to Granny's every Friday after Story Time! Cause those are the days that Mr Dove collects rent and Papa can leave the shop early." Bailey explained all of this in a rushed breath, taking a big spoon full of ice cream and shoving it into his mouth immediately after.

"Is that right?" Belle murmured softly, her eyes flickering to him for a bare moment before once again refocusing on Bailey. His son made a sort of Mmph! sound around the ice cream, earning him a halfhearted glare from Gold.

Bailey laughed nervously as soon as he swallowed. "Sorry, Papa."

At his embarrassed apology, Belle giggled. "I'll take some of the responsibility for that one, Bailey. I asked you a question." Her eyes met his again for a longer moment and Gold found himself drowning in the impossibly blue galaxies. And in that moment, he didn't ever want to come up for air.

The spell was broken by a newer, deeper voice. It was far less pleasant than Belle's, clearly male, and one Gold would be perfectly happy to never hear again. "Belle! You seriously left me surrounded by those things! Didn't think I'd ever find my way outta there."

Belle shook her head and shared an exasperated look with Bailey, Gold watching as his son snickered. "They're called books, Gaston. And the only way they can hurt you is by a paper cut. Do you think you're old enough to be around them or do I need to move them all to the top shelf?"

Bailey snorted into his ice cream.

Gaston lifted an eyebrow and lowered his voice to a mocking whisper, the familiar affection in his eyes making Gold feel sick. "Can you reach the top shelf, Belle?"

Shocked, Bailey choked a little on the ice cream he'd just swallowed and Belle reeled back, laughing. "I can't even be mad at that. It was very clever." Gold let his gaze swing between the three of them, feeling incredibly out of place all of a sudden.

Belle and Gaston had both slipped into the table next to their booth, talking with an obviously excited Bae. Every once in a while Belle would glance over to him, gently bringing him into their conversation. Something sharp and uncomfortable had settled in the pit of his stomach and it was such an odd feeling that when his phone rang, Gold was almost grateful.

Until he saw who was calling.

"Yes, Milah?" At the sound of his mothers name, Bailey's gaze immediately found his, some of the light fading from his eyes. Gold hated that. But as much as he wished otherwise, he and Milah shared custody. For now at least.

"Where is my son? He was supposed to be at the harbor five minutes ago! We have a very strict agreement that-"

"You get him during the summer. Yes, I know." Across from him Bailey glared into his ice cream, stirring it in fast jerking motions. As much as Gold longed to have this conversation somewhere more private, he didn't dare leave Bailey in the diner. Nor would he take Bailey early. As it was the diner was relatively empty with the exception of a few patrons.

Plus Miss French and Mr Abbot of course.

“And we agreed that we'd meet at Granny's today. I told you that I was getting him ice cream." Gold was very careful not to let his annoyance bleed into his voice, glancing quickly at a still scowling Bailey.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Killian says that doesn't work for him. He's very busy right now and this is already an inconvenience for him."

Narrowly avoiding snorting out right, Gold tried a different approach. "Then let me keep him."

Another pause, longer this time. Then quietly, "No. No, Bailey will be staying with us this summer! We have an agreement." Gold pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He didn't want Bailey to go, and he was fairly sure that Bailey didn't want to go... but there was no choice. For now the judges word was law.

"He's almost done. I'll walk him down to the harbor myself."

There was a muffled conversation on the other end of the line, then Milah's voice was speaking again. "Killian has places he needs to be. You've got five minutes before we come to the diner ourselves." The line clicked off before Gold could say anything in response.

Bailey looked up at him with sad eyes. "I have to go, don't I?" Beside him he could see Belle stiffen in her chair, a puzzled frown on the face as she stared intently at the wall. Gaston on the other hand was being far less subtle, openly staring at the both of them. He didn't have the heart to snark at either of them, his soul and heart heavy with despair.

"Yes, m'boy. Just for now." Gold tapped on his hand, drawing his son’s attention back to him. "We'll see each other again soon," he leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Remember your code words?"

Bailey nodded. "I remember Papa."

"Then there's nothing to worry about!" Gold felt the lie roll off his tongue, bitter like ash, but his son needed comfort. That took priority over his own feelings. He'd worry everyday, but at least he'd convinced Milah and Killian to stay docked for a few weeks before they sailed away—with his son. Nothing would happen. Gold didn't care if he had to sneak on the bloody boat himself, nothing would happen.

His son would be fine, Gold would make sure of it.

Chapter Text

“It's not fair,” Belle whispered harshly, slumping down in her seat. “Bailey obviously didn’t want to go with his mother, no child should be forced to go into a house where they don't feel comfortable!” Gaston sighed heavily, running a hand through his meticulously styled hair – thoroughly ruining it. He must have realized it the same moment that Belle did because he jerked his hand back with a low curse. Belle laughed.

It felt weak and strained to her own ears, a breathless quality to it that made her feel even worse. She couldn't even laugh properly.

And Gaston immediately noticed.

“Look Belle,” the mischief and ever-present humor faded from his eyes, leaving him looking completely serious. Belle wasn't sure what to think about that. “You can't fix everything—“ he cut off her immediate protest, raising his brows and holding up a single finger. “—it's not possible. And I don’t want you to get hurt by that.” Thinking it over, Belle ran her hands over the smooth wood of her desk, bottom lip caught between her teeth as she struggled. While it was true that she had an undeniable desire to help everyone and fix everything, she also knew that wasn't always possible.

But was that the case in this particular situation? Was there really nothing that she could do? No. Belle refused to believe that. “There has to be something, Gaston! I-I can…what if I…” Books! All she has to do was find the right kind of book and she could help.

His gentle and reassuring smile just made her feel even worse. Belle hadn't thought it could get any worse than this.

She'd been wrong. Never in her life had she felt as helpless as she did right now.

“I already told you, Belle, you can't fix everything.” He stilled her fidgety fingers with his own, eyes still unbearably serious and steady.“Does this one hurt a little bit more because of who it's affecting?” She looked up into his eyes, feeling something claw its way up her throat and settle there.

Belle swallowed it down with effort. “Probably.” There was no doubt about it, actually. Bailey Gold was the sweetest little boy she'd ever known and the thought of him being uncomfortable or scared made her feel ill.

“It's not just the boy, Belle.” Like he had read her mind, Gaston perched himself on the edge of her desk, holding her hand loosely in his. “You care for Gold. Probably more than you want to admit.” It was in moments like these that Belle was hard pressed to find the man the whole town knew… Behind his cocky and cool exterior, Gaston was a gentleman. It was so easy to see him skin deep. He was undeniably gorgeous. Chiseled to perfection with blue eyes that were rivaled by only her own. Who would have thought under all that superficial stuff…

But did only one see him past that? Besides her, of course.

“Belle—you alright?”

She shook herself out of it and smiled. “Yeah I was just thinking,” Belle blinked and ran her hands over her shirt, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles and biting down on her lip. Did she care for Gold? Yes. But she cared for everyone, or tried to at least. The fluttering in the very pit of her stomach every time she saw him was something that only happened with Gold though. “You're right. I do care for him.”

Somehow saying it aloud made it so much more real, and the enormity of that hit Belle with the speed of a freight train. How was it possible to feel what she was feeling for a man she hardly knew? It seemed like something out of a movie, cliché and unrealistic. But it was exactly how she felt. “It's in your nature, Belle. Kind and caring,” Gaston's eyes crinkled as he smiled, a real smile, not his typical charming smirk. “You see past the basest level. Outward appearance doesn't affect you.”

Belle frowned a little at the subtle implication that she didn't find Gold attractive. Where Gaston was muscular and built, Gold was wiry and lean. He was soft and careworn with his shaggy hair and expressive eyes. And that accent… that accent would be the death of her. Rich and warm, deep and rumbling. He could perfectly convey how he felt without saying a word, a subtle twitch of his eyebrow. The darkening of those beautiful eyes…

She gulped and took a deep breath. No, her attraction to him definitely wasn't in question.

“I'm going to help him,” Belle told Gaston frankly. “Not only because I find him attractive—which I do—but because he deserves to keep his son and Bailey deserves to feel safe at all times.” His eyes sparkled at her.

“And I'm going to help.” The way he said it, the was matter of fact tone, and the return of the mischief in his eyes making Belle giggle. There was the Gaston Abbot that the town knew.

“Are you?” Belle asked, rising with as much grace as she could muster considering she literally felt like she was still riding an emotional roller coaster of utter helplessness and stubborn resilience. The feelings that were coursing through her might not make any sense, but they were hers.

 “What will you get out of helping me help Gold?” As far as Belle knew, Gaston and Gold had no soft feelings for each other. Gaston was the high school athlete turned car dealer playboy, Gold was the local pawnbroker and town menace. Nobody helped Gold unless they wanted something, and for all that Gaston was indeed her best friend, she'd cut out his tongue if he even thought about using this for personal gain.

Gaston shrugged, “What I get out of this is my business. Plus…” he leaned forward until most of his weight was all the balls of his feet, barely even touching her desk. “We both know you're a terrible sneak.” Belle scoffed at that, arching her eyebrows and giving him a little glare.

“That's not a particularly good quality to begin with, certainly not one that warrants bragging.” Belle blinked in sudden thought, her –slightly—offended attitude bleeding away as his words actually processed. “Why would I need to be sneaky anyway?” In hindsight, his baseless remark had no sense of purpose in the conversation that they'd been having.

“You really think that Gold—landowner, pawnbroker, deal maker—will allow you, Belle—bookworm, librarian, afraid of her own shadow—“ Belle made a sharp noise and cut him off.

“Hey! I'm not afraid of my own shadow!”

“—to help him? The man has too much pride, Belle.” As much as she wished otherwise, Gaston was right. There was no way that Gold would allow her to help him, and one look into those chocolate eyes would have Belle spilling every little detail of their—yes, their—elaborate plan. Gold would forbid it and Bailey would be forced to stay at his mothers all summer. Even if there really was nothing they could do, at least Belle would know that she'd tried.

For her own sake, Belle would have taken all the risks on her own. She'd read and research, but that might not cut it. Gaston could be sneaky and little though she wanted to admit it, Belle needed that on her side right now.

In the end, there really wasn't a choice to be made. Belle sighed.

“Okay. Where do we start?”

Chapter Text

Belle was careful to keep her wide smile in place, even when the moment Gold saw her he froze. This was off to a wonderful start. The wariness in his eyes made her stomach sink down to her toes, landing there with a heavy crash. He needed to trust her. And while the thought seemed silly to consider—being well aware of his reputation around town, it was the only way to start.

Gold had to know that she wasn't afraid of him and Belle had to make sure that she didn't push him past the point of comfort. She'd walk the thin line with perfection, or this entire plan would be a failure.

No pressure.

“Hello, Mr Gold,” she said cheerfully, covering the short distance between the entrance and the counter in quick little steps, the door closing behind her with a gentle click. “I was wondering if we could talk?” Breathing deeply to compensate for the way her heart was pounding in her chest, she kept her sunniest smile plastered to her lips.

Gold was still frozen, his eyes darting up to meet hers before he looked back down at his hands. Belle could see the way his jaw clenched for half a second, his thumb swiping over his fingers in a brisk rhythm. He sighed. It was more a sigh of acceptance than one of frustration and that gave her a fleeting flicker of hope. That was soon dashed as realization dawned. What was she doing?

Belle exhaled slowly, forcing herself to calm down. Bailey’s comfort and Gold’s piece of mind rode on her ability to coax him into letting his guard down. She wanted to help him, but she needed to know what was going through his head first.

This would take patience, something Belle wasn't particularly gifted with in situations like these.

“About what you overheard in the diner?” Gold glanced up at her for confirmation, then sneered at her tiny nod. “I assure you, Miss French, that was not something I wanted anyone to witness. But I refused to leave Bailey or make him leave. Just forget about it.”

Belle rested her forearms against the smooth glass surface of the display case, leaning forward just a bit. “Bailey means a great deal to me, Mr Gold. And I know as his father, your first concern is his wellbeing—but I heard something. Something that I need clarification on.” If Bailey was in any actual danger, then Belle seriously doubted that Gold would've let him on that ship in the first place.

But it was better safe than sorry.

He was practically glaring at her now, brown eyes dark and thunderous. “And what exactly might that be, Miss French?” His voice was a low snarl and Belle felt the little hairs on the back on her neck stand up in response to it. It wasn't fear—not exactly. Intimidation, perhaps. But not fear… she wasn't afraid of him.

The same snarl that curled his lips in irritation darkened his eyes in sadness. An aggressive game of tug-of-war that promised only solitude.

“You asked him if he remembered his code words,” Belle watched as some of the color drained from his face, his eyes flashing in momentary panic. He held her gaze for long moments, refusing to look anywhere else but at hers. Her breathing was coming faster, nerves racing through her as he continued to stare. There was anger there, deep and deadly, but it wasn't aimed at her. “I just wanted to make sure that he was safe.” Those words—simple and true—seemed to break whatever spell had come over him.

Gold looked at her strangely for a long moment, the ticking of the clocks behind them almost unbearably loud in the muted silence that had fallen over throughout his shop. Try as she might, Belle couldn't make out the expression on his face, smaller things—like anger and sadness—were easy enough to recognize; however the terror she spotted blooming in his eyes made her throat feel tight.

Without even trying, Belle had opened Pandora's box and let loose all the monsters inside of it. And as awful as they were, she needed them. She needed to understand why. It was almost overwhelming, the desire to help Bailey and Gold and maybe even herself. These memories—the ones that darkened his eyes with mistrust and fear, she needed them. They were her master key. How the hell was she supposed to put them back in now?

“Flip the sign and lock the door.” Gold's voice was bleak and resigned, his face carefully blank. Belle's heart was still hammering but his words had sparked something inside of her, the lump of nerves loosening just a bit as she finally drew a full breath.

She blinked in surprise. “What?”

Gold gestured to door. “The sign,” he explained softly, “flip it to closed, please. And lock the door.” Rushing, Belle ran to do as he asked, following him into the back room immediately after.

Taking a minute to satisfy her curiosity, she looked around the relatively uncrowded space. True there were neat piles of various knickknacks scattered about, but the room itself was surprisingly airy, and nothing about it seemed stuffy and cramped.

“Please,” Gold murmured quietly, gesturing to the oversized chair across from the cot that he was perched on. “Make yourself comfortable, Miss French.” Belle carefully lowered herself to the chair, keeping a watchful eye on Gold.

For the first time Belle actually thought about what she was doing. And yes, it was all in the name of helping him—but right now Gold looked like someone who was awaiting his execution. His back was ramrod straight, eyes downcast, strands of graying hair hanging in his face. He looked miserable.

“Mr Gold, if you're uncomfortable talking about this—“

“Miss French if I was uncomfortable talking about this, you wouldn't be here. Perhaps I'm taking a moment to organize my thoughts?” Gold must've fully processed what he'd said the same moment Belle did because when their eyes met, something between them shifted. She smiled at him. And he smiled back.

Well, as much of a smile as she could hope for. His lips curled up for half a second, fragile and fleeting. Then all sign of humor faded from his expression and Belle could see as his walls fell around him, the way his eyes went hazy and unfocused.

“It was after the divorce. Milah and I had been drifting apart for years and when I found her with Jones…” he shook his head once, as if trying to make the memories drain from his mind all together. “Well it wasn't a surprise. And we divorced shortly after that. Milah couldn't hold a job and had a long history of bouncing from place to place, so I got primary custody of Bailey.”

Belle nodded, scooting her chair a tad closer to the small cot he was sitting on. “Milah tried to fight you?”

Gold barked out a dry laugh. “Oh no. Milah couldn't have cared less, not just then. Bailey was only four at the time, but he's a smart boy. For months leading up to that first summer I worked with him everyday, making sure he knew my mobile by heart—“ he broke off suddenly, blinking rapidly. Gold met her eyes unseeing, the emotion reflecting through them nothing short of terrified.

“The second night he was with them I got a call. Milah and Jones were fighting, had been for hours, and Bailey was scared. He wanted to come home. So I drove to that barnacle encrusted raft and got my son. Left Milah a note to call me, then drove away.” Belle shivered at the thought of Milah being too distracted not to notice her own son was gone.

“And she woke you up later that same night?”

Gold's eyes once again regained focus, looking at her and giving his head one quick shake. “No. She called at noon. He was four, alone and apparently unsupervised until noon, on a bloody boat.” It was all too easy to imagine the situation that no doubt caused the pure terror she had seen in his eyes. A large fish, a gleaming sea turtle, anything eye catching to an unwatched child. Wandering little feet, over balancing on an edge—

Belle sucked in a sharp breath. “What happened?”

“I told Milah that I'd walked right onto the ship, taken my son and left. She agreed that she should've been paying better attention.” Gold pushed himself backwards on the cot, letting his head fall against the back wall with a muffled thump. “We came to an agreement of sorts. I wouldn't go to the judge with what had happened if she stayed in port the first few weeks of summer. And didn't try and get me arrested for kidnapping.” Belle choked.

“Kidnapping?”

Gold sighed. “Bailey was with her. The judge ordered that he stay with her during the summer time, unless Milah said otherwise. I took him. But before she came back to pick him up that next day, I bought him a cell phone. And we established a code.”

Belle nodded absently, leaning forward. “Code words.”

“Indeed. He wanted things he could say if he were to be in front of Jones or Milah so we went with sea life—baby whale, mama whale, lobster and jellyfish. Baby whale means that Milah and Jones are fighting but he's okay, he just wants someone to talk with him. Mama whale means they're fighting and he wants me to come and get him. Lobster means he had a nightmare.”

He stopped talking, looking once again pained, and Belle let her fingers rest gently against his knee. The contact seemed to ground him in the moment with her, his breath leaving him in a shaky exhale. She waited.

“Jellyfish means that he's in danger.”