Archive of Our Own

Gold had barely been in town for a year, but he already owned most of the properties, and his reputation as a ruthless landlord was well-known. Ruby and her grandmother had been late on rent twice, and though Gold had been more lenient on them than Leroy’s horror stories would suggest, they were still wary of him. The first time, he’d waived the late fee. The second time, he hadn’t. All things considered, that was better than they expected after he — allegedly — evicted a single mother and her infant son because they were late on the first month’s rent.

Ruby watched Gold from a distance, trying to figure him out. He never ordered food from Granny’s, though he came in for coffee sometimes. Not often — he had to stay here to drink it if he ordered any, because he couldn’t open any doors with a cane in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. And though he’d been in town for a year, so far he hadn’t so much as looked at a member of the opposite sex. Ruby’s friend Ashley said she’d come onto Gold once, hoping he’d lower her electricity bill. Gold had just ignored her, completely uninterested.

So maybe he was gay, Ruby mused, but she hadn’t seen him check out Graham — and if there was one thing Ruby knew, it was that anyone who was into men was into Graham. 

She put the question off to the side and, except for Rent Day, put Gold out of her mind entirely.

And then, one night in August, he showed up at the inn with a fresh bruise on his face and what looked like angry purple fingerprints tattooed on his neck. He didn’t make eye contact with either Ruby or Granny as he approached the front desk.

“I don’t have my wallet,” he said, and as he spoke, Ruby saw bright red streaks on his teeth. “If you let me rent a room here for three days, you don’t have to pay this month’s rent.”

The deal was tipped wildly in their favor, so what could they do but agree? Granny gave Gold a key — for a room, per his request, without a view — and he disappeared up the stairs. Ruby and Granny stared at each other.

“Do we … do we treat him like a regular guest?” Ruby asked. “Meals and everything?”

Granny looked up toward the staircase, frowning hard. “We’ll follow his lead,” she said. “Make breakfast for him tomorrow, and if he doesn’t want it, then …”

Ruby nodded. She thought about the bruise on Gold’s cheek — who had punched him? Who had choked him? She couldn’t think of anyone in Storybrooke who had the nerve. Except for maybe Mayor Mills, but why would she attack Gold? She wasn’t a tenant of his, so far as Ruby knew. She’d almost thought they were friends...

Ruby retreated to her room, biting her lip. If Gold had been attacked by an angry tenant — or if he’d been mugged — it didn’t really make sense for him to hide out in an inn instead of going back to his own house. So maybe someone had broken in and attacked him there — or maybe — but Ruby dismissed that thought before it could even fully form.

The next morning, she woke up at five and hesitated in the kitchen, looking at the typical breakfast foods she and Granny saved for when they had lodgers. Gold never ate at the diner, and Ruby never saw him at any other restaurants in town. It was impossible to tell what he liked, and she had the sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t eat anything she cooked anyway.

With a sigh, Ruby took to the stairs, going up two at a time. Gold’s room was the second on the left, and Ruby paused for a moment before knocking.

There was no answer. Ruby stared at the door, trying to remember when the pawn shop opened. Was it possible he’d already left?

She knocked again — no answer. Ruby tried the doorknob and was shocked when it turned; the door clicked quietly as it opened, revealing a nearly-empty room. The duvet was folded neatly on a chair, and the sheets had been stripped from the bed. Gold’s suit jacket hung in the closet, but otherwise, the room looked unoccupied. Ruby glanced around for the moment, confirming that the bathroom was empty too — door open, light off. Then she retreated to the hallway, her eyebrows furrowed.

If Gold’s jacket was in the room, he probably hadn’t left. And he’d taken the sheets, which meant he was probably in the laundry room. 

Well, that’s a little insulting , Ruby thought. They didn’t get lodgers often, but the sheets were washed every week. It wasn’t like they were dirty. She made her way back downstairs and headed for the laundry room. She opened the door and found Gold standing by the washer with a pile of bloody sheets in front of him. When she entered the room, Gold jerked away from the washer and backed up until he was against the wall; he looked wary and murderous, ready to fight.

Ruby froze, putting her hands up placatingly, taking everything in. Gold, half-dressed, his shirt torn and covered in dried blood. The bruises on his neck, even nastier today than they were last night. The red stains all over the sheets, parts of it looking fresh, other parts looking almost dry. Gold’s expression was twitching, guilt fighting to take over from his initial, angry snarl. Finally, he settled into a purely blank face.

“It’s fine,” he said stiffly. “It’s been soaking for hours.” Ruby frowned at him, unsure what he meant — then she noticed the deep sink, filled with pink-tinged water.

“Cold water or hot?” she asked.

“Cold,” Gold said. His eyes flickered up to hers and then away; he grasped his cane so hard his knuckles turned white. Ruby came up next to him and took a long look at the sheets, trying to figure out if the stains had set yet. She looked at Gold warily; when she first walked in, he’d reminded her of a war movie she saw as a kid, where a wounded soldier, blind with pain, lashed out and killed the medic trying to help him. But while he was still tense, he looked more nervous now than anything else.

“What were you gonna do next?” Ruby asked.

“Uh,” Gold said. He turned the sheets over and showed her a section that was significantly lighter than the rest, his hands shaking. “I, um, I’ve been using hydrogen peroxide. I-I found some under the sink, in the bathroom.”

Ruby nodded, then turned her attention on Gold, her eyes narrowing when she saw the long gashes in his shirt — one on the abdomen, the other on the sleeve. Both matted with blood.

“So, how’d the sheets get all bloody?” she asked. Gold’s jaw tightened and he moved a half-step back.

“I …”

“Are you hurt?” Ruby asked, more pointedly. Gold avoided her eyes.

“There was a first-aid kit in the bathroom,” he said.

“I know,” said Ruby patiently, “but if you’re bleeding this much, a pack of Mickey Mouse Bandaids isn’t really gonna help, you know?”

Gold opened his mouth and then closed it again, giving Ruby a sharp shrug. She sighed and closed the laundry room door.

“Take your shirt off,” she said. To Gold’s credit, he didn’t waste time with bashfulness or indignation. After a brief moment of hesitation, he went to work on the buttons, shrugging his shirt off a moment later. He wasn’t wearing an undershirt; Ruby could see every bruise, cut, and scrape clearly. The most urgent one, at a glance, was the nasty-looking hole in his side — no longer bleeding, but clearly a knife wound,

“Okay,” Ruby said, letting out a long, slow breath. “Let me go get the first-aid kit, okay? A real one. I’ll be right back.”

She turned away as she spoke, barely seeing Gold’s nod. Ruby hurried through the inn, trying to find the one good first-aid kit. Granny kept it in one of the closets upstairs, and as Ruby bounded up the staircase, she felt a chill go through her. It had to be close to 5:30. She was supposed to be in the diner by now, in uniform, helping Granny open up.

She took a deep breath and soldiered on. Granny would understand; she’d be angry at first, but she’d get it. You couldn’t just leave lodgers to die. She hurried down the hallway, opening every closet she saw, until she got to one filled with extra linen and a giant plastic tub with a little red cross on it.

Ruby heaved it off the floor and trotted back downstairs, struggling to see where she was going. When she got to the laundry room, she left the first-aid kit fall to the floor with a muffled whump and pushed the door open, kicking the tub in ahead of her. Gold was back to tending the sheets, one hand pressed against his side.

“Okay,” Ruby said, catching her breath. “I’m back.”

Gold didn’t respond. Ruby unlatched the lid to the tub and tossed it aside, digging through the kit. It was a moment before she realized she didn’t know what she was looking for, and that was when the stress of the situation started to crash down on her. Her landlord was bleeding to death and seemed more concerned with cleaning the sheets. She was late for work. She didn’t know how to treat a knife wound.

Ruby’s hands started trembling. She sniffed a little as she rooted through the kit, hoping Mr. Gold wouldn’t notice how lost she was. How did people treat cuts? Hydrogen peroxide? Was that a thing? She glanced up at the bottle in Gold’s hand and noticed him looking back at her, his expression far away. It took him a moment to realize Ruby was making eye contact — then he jolted, his eyebrows raising.

“Ah, soap,” Gold said, making Ruby wonder if she’d asked that question out loud. “You clean it with soap and water. Once that’s done, you apply an antibacterial ointment and put on a bandage. It’s simple.”

Ruby just gaped at him. Gold misinterpreted her expression and looked away uncomfortably; for a moment, he just stood there, and then he picked up the hydrogen peroxide and a rag and started rubbing away at the bloodstains on the sheets.

Ruby shook her head and looked at the first-aid kit with fresh eyes. She grabbed a washcloth similar to the one Gold had in his hand, but cleaner, and ran it under the faucet of the deep sink. This brought her closer to Gold; her shoulder brushed against his bare arm.

“If you know how to take care of it, why didn’t you do that, instead of bleeding all over the sheets?” Ruby asked. Gold opened his mouth and then closed it again, a faint blush spreading over his cheeks. He didn’t need to answer. Ruby never cared for her wounds either — if she scraped her knee or cut herself in the restaurant, she just wiped the blood away and let it go. Archie said it was a mild form of self-harm, and she suspected he was right — she only did that when she felt particularly down about herself.

What did that say about Gold, exactly? She didn’t like to think about that.

“Okay, come here,” Ruby said, squirting a healthy helping of hand soap on the wet cloth. “Stop working on the sheets.”

Gold turned toward her and then took an immediate step back, seeming shocked to find her so close. Ruby rolled her eyes and made up the distance. She pressed the cloth against the gash in Gold’s side without warning and held it firm when he flinched. 

“Okay,” Ruby said. “So …”

She started rubbing gently, unsure how much pressure was really necessary. It didn’t seem to matter. Gold gasped and then held his breath, his face screwed up in pain, his stomach feeling a bit too lean beneath the rag. And from what Ruby could see, his wound wasn’t getting any cleaner.

“Okay, let’s try something else,” she said, tossing the cloth on top of the sheets. Gold relaxed, releasing his breath. “Come over here by the deep sink.”

Gold followed her hesitantly. Ruby pulled a towel out of the laundry hamper and tossed it to Gold.

“Take off your pants and tie that around your waist,” she said. Gold’s expression started twitching again, this time settling back in the ‘murderous’ realm. He sighed heavily and shucked off his trousers; Ruby got a brief glimpse of silk magenta trunks before the towel covered them and had to stifle a laugh. Dr. Whale owned an identical pair — they were his favorites, but they didn’t suit his skin tone quite as well as they did Gold’s.

“Okay,” Ruby said, “now get as close to the sink as you can.”

She detached the nozzle and pulled it closer to her, testing the water temperature in the sink. It took it five minutes to warm up. Then she turned it on Gold; he went very still, his shoulders a tense line, as dried blood slowly broke up and dissolved, trickling down onto the towel. When the wound on his stomach was clean, Ruby gestured for his arm. Gold held it over the sink and they went through the same ritual again; by the time they were done, Gold’s head was nodding, the warm water nearly lulling him to sleep. Ruby wondered if he’d been awake all night; the bloody sheets suggested he’d at least lied down for a while, but if he’d had time to soak them, he must not have been out for long.

“Okay,” Ruby said, putting the nozzle back. Gold untied the towel, using the few dry spots left on it to dab at his arm and abdomen. Ruby fetched a tube of ointment from the first aid kit and held it out to him. Gold took care of his stomach wound quietly and quickly, and then handed the tube back to Ruby so she could get his arm.

Neither of them spoke again until the wounds were bandaged. Ruby and Gold both sighed and leaned back.

“You should’ve gone to the hospital,” Ruby said without any real force behind her voice. Gold didn’t respond. He put his clothes back on with his back to Ruby; she saw him hesitate, examining the rips and bloodstains in his shirt.

“Going to look like shit going back to my house,” Gold murmured. Ruby tilted her head to the side, not bothering to acknowledge this (objectively true) statement.

“How’d you get hurt, anyway?” she asked. “Someone attack you?”

Gold glanced at her over his shoulder, his eyes hooded. “That’s not your concern, Miss Lucas,” he said. Ruby blinked; Gold’s voice was cold and distant — it was the same voice he used when he was collecting his rent, subtly different from the one he’d been using all morning, ever since she found him cleaning the sheets. Ruby narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing Gold as he pretended not to notice her.

“Thank you for your help,” he said dismissively. “I’m sure your grandmother wants you in the diner by now.”

“Right,” Ruby said. “Uh, no problem.”

She stood stiffly, leaving the tub where it was. Gold was back to picking at the sheets, avoiding her eyes, acting like nothing had happened.

It was a full year before Gold showed up again like that, trudging into the inn late at night with his hair tangled and full of leaves and twigs. There were puffy red scratches on his face and mud on his clothes; he looked tired and harassed.

This time, he had his wallet.

“Three nights,” he said, glaring at a spot above Ruby’s head. “Ground floor, please.”

“Rough day?” Ruby asked. Gold growled at her, snatching the keys from her hand without a response. He limped out of the room and she saw that the right leg of his trousers was torn from the hem all the way up to the knee, giving her a glimpse of a long, twisted scar.

This time, she didn’t wait for him to get the sheets bloody. Granny gave her a significant glance and disappeared in search of the first-aid kit, and Ruby followed Gold down the hall.

She found him sitting on the bed, grimacing up at her when she opened the door. 

“It’s customary to knock,” said Gold.

“It’s customary to not bleed all over someone else’s sheets,” Ruby said. She pointed to the bedspread for extra measure and Gold followed her finger in dismay, looking for blood spots. “Come on,” Ruby said. “Get in the bathroom. Granny’s bringing the first-aid kit.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” said Gold, not moving. Before Ruby could respond, Granny was bustling in with the first-aid kit in her hands. She dropped it down next to the bed and gave Gold a grim look.

“Aren’t you a sight,” she said. “Covered in mud and who-knows-what and sitting on my pristine — ”

“Alright,” said Gold, heaving himself to his feet. “I understand. These sheets are evidently the most valuable thing in this inn — ”

“Shush,” said Granny, and miraculously, Gold obeyed, though he didn’t bother to stifle a glare. “Ruby,” said Granny, “go fetch some clean pajamas for Mr. Gold.”

Ruby avoided the pitiful look Gold shot her and hurried out of the room. When she returned, Gold was sitting on the edge of the tub in the bathroom with his trousers rolled up so Granny could see his leg.

“It won’t need stitches, I don’t think,” said Granny. “You ever had stitches?”

“Yes,” said Gold. He grimaced as Granny held the ragged sides of the wound together long enough to paste on a butterfly bandage. She grabbed a roll of Ace bandages and wrapped them around the wound, padding it with gauze.

“Now, let’s take a look at that ugly face of yours,” said Granny lightly. Gold made eye contact with Ruby again, once more silently pleading for help. She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway, smirking at him, while Granny wet a washcloth in the sink.

Granny put one hand on Gold’s chin, holding him still, and used the other to dab over his cuts with the washcloth, gently rubbing the dried blood away. Gold went still while she did this, closing his eyes, and as Ruby watched, her smirk fell away. Granny folded the washcloth in two, ran it under the faucet again, and went back over Gold’s face a second time. This time, when she finished, the cuts were completely clean and Gold looked exhausted and somewhat dazed, like he’d been hit in the head.

“You okay?” Ruby asked.

“Mm,” said Gold.

“He’d better be,” said Granny briskly. “There’s nothing to kill a business like an ambulance at the front door.” She put her hands on her knees and pushed herself to her feet with Gold absent-mindedly assisting her. “Put him to bed, would you, Ruby?” Granny said, not acknowledging Gold’s help. She tossed the bloody washcloth in the sink on her way out the door; true to self, she didn’t pause to hear Ruby’s answer.

When she was gone, Ruby raised her eyebrows at Gold, a faint smile playing ‘round her lips. He met her eyes with a blank look.

“I can get there myself,” he said steadily, but he made no effort to stand.

“Sure,” said Ruby. She was at his side in a heartbeat, holding onto his elbow in gentle support as he stood and limped out into the bedroom. He toed his shoes off there, sitting gingerly on the bedspread and shrugging Ruby’s hand off in one move.

It was clear then, when he looked up at her with his eyebrows arched, that he expected her to go.

“So who beat you up this time?” Ruby asked.

Gold’s only response was an almost inaudible snort of derision. He tackled the buttons on his jacket slowly, his fingers not trembling but unusually graceless and clumsy. While he was distracted, Ruby reached out and plucked a leaf from his hair. He froze at her touch, his face stuck halfway between anger and a total lack of expression.

“Someone I know?” Ruby asked.

“Does it matter?” Gold said. He looked up at her, eyes hooded, the corner of his mouth lifting in a joyless smile. Ruby studied him a moment, unsure what to think; then her eyes flickered to the closed door.

Gold tossed his jacket and tie onto the old armchair across from his bed. He wore a waistcoat typically — or at least, Ruby thought he did — but it was gone now, leaving him in only his shirt and trousers as he lay back on the bed. One arm swept up to cover his eyes, blocking out the soft light from the overhead fixture.

“Want me to get the lights?” Ruby asked. Gold’s lips twitched.

“I want you to leave,” he said.

Ruby got the lights. She slipped her shoes off, lining them up next to Gold’s, and crawled onto the bed in the dark. Gold was all angles, his elbow jabbing her in the ribs as she lay down next to him; his skin wasn’t even warm.

“No, you don’t,” Ruby said, half-smiling as she settled down with her head on the pillow next to Gold’s. “You could use some company.”

He didn’t deny it. For now, Ruby supposed that was all she was going to get.

The next day, Ruby couldn’t say for sure which one of them fell asleep first.