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"That will be all for today, thanks. See you next week, and don't forget that Mary Margaret's lecture is cancelled on Monday!"
Belle gave a sigh of relief as the first years got up to leave. She only took a handful of classes a week, the rest of her time being devoted to her research, but she found it exhausting. She reckoned she'd slept more since beginning her PhD studies than she had throughout her Bachelor and Master degrees combined.
"Don't forget it's the Charity Chase next Friday, Belle," one of her students called as they left the room.
"The what?" Belle knew that all universities – and even all the different departments within the same university – had their own little quirks and traditions, but she thought that she'd uncovered most of Storybrooke's during her two months there.
"Ah, the Charity Chase!" Ruby came into the room after the last student left, grinning from ear to ear. "The annual Humanities Faculty Charity Chase, in aid of Children in Need. I can't believe I didn't tell you about it sooner. How remiss."
"Well, you can tell me now." Belle finished collecting up her belongings. "Steeplechase? Paper chase?"
"Oh no." Her office-mate's smile was now bordering on leonine. "Kiss chase."
"What?" Belle nearly dropped her laptop.
"Oh, don't be such a prude, I'll tell you about it over lunch."
It was easy for Ruby to say 'don't be such a prude'; the other woman was two years into writing her thesis on sexual repression in 19th century women's literature. Belle's work, on the other hand, was on the history of libraries. Despite their disparate fields of study, they got on remarkably well. Ruby was desperately relieved to have some company in her office at long last – her last office-mate had had a nervous breakdown after only three weeks of PhD study – and Belle was grateful for an enthusiastic guide to her new home and her new role. Most doctorate students were expected to teach a few core classes, such as essay writing and document analysis skills, in return for the university helping to fund their research, and Ruby and Belle both taught academic writing to the English first-years, sharing notes and stories.
On their way down to the cafeteria, they passed Mary Margaret on the stairs. The little dark-haired lecturer paused, her brow furrowed in concern.
"Are you all right, Belle?" she asked. "You look rather pale."
Belle nodded. Dr Blanchard wasn't all that much older than Belle herself, the younger woman having taken a break from academia before beginning her doctoral studies, but she had an endearingly mothering air about her, and Belle found her infinitely more approachable than her own supervisor, the very old and very irritable Professor Spencer.
"I'm just about to initiate her into the ritual of the Charity Chase," Ruby explained cheerily.
"Ah, I see." Mary Margaret smiled knowingly. "Well, if you want to take part, the sign-up list is in Cara Mallory's office; she organises it all."
Somehow, this didn't surprise Belle. Professor Mallory, known to everyone outside the English department as 'the Dragon', was Ruby's supervisor, and possessed a wicked streak even longer than Belle's office-mate's.
"It's quite simple really," Ruby began once they'd ordered and sat down. "Every year, on Children in Need day, the Humanities Faculty staff have a kiss chase to raise money. The women wear really bright lipstick and try to mark the men with it. The men try to avoid them. The staff and students pay a little to make various bets and predictions on the outcome, the money goes to charity and the whoever gets the most correct predictions gets a load of free pizza coupons or something like that. We raised over three hundred pounds last year."
"Kiss chase," Belle repeated. "Is it even legal?"
"Well, the Dean tries to get it banned every year but she hasn't succeeded so far. I mean, it's not exactly politically correct, but everyone who takes part has given their informed consent and there's nothing inappropriate – just a kiss on the cheek. Cara's got strict rules about it and anyone who breaks them is toast."
"Ok…"
"Firstly, obviously, we don't want to be done for sexual harassment. Only the people who've signed up can chase or be chased, and like I said, just a kiss, no other contact. Secondly, it cannot interfere with teaching, so you can't interrupt classes, lectures, or private meetings. Thirdly, adhere to basic common sense and health and safety rules. And finally, the men can't wipe the lipstick off till the end of the day if they've been marked."
Belle laughed.
"Ok, that doesn't sound too bad. It's not quite like how I imagined it."
"Well, your little imagination runs riot sometimes, doesn't it?" Ruby raised an eyebrow. She had learned early on that even some of her most innocuous and innocent texts could make Belle's blush rise. "Anyway, are you up for it? Chasing down the faculty from the most junior PhD student to the head of the Italian department?"
"Ruby, the head of the Italian department is about seventy."
"He's not that old!"
They were still bickering about precisely how old Professor Marco was when their food arrived.
X
"I'm so glad you decided to join us," Ruby said happily, sitting on Cara's desk swinging her legs as Belle wrote her details below her friend's on the piece of paper headed 'Charity Chase 2012 participants'.
Name, Belle French. Department, English. Office Number, 306. Signature.
"Ruby, my tolerance for your sitting on my desk notwithstanding, if you continue to drum your heels against it I will be forced to take drastic action," Cara muttered without looking up from her paperwork, and Ruby immediately jumped off the desk. Whilst the Dragon might not be so dangerous to those who actually knew her, it still wasn't a good idea to rile her. Cara turned to Belle. "Well, thank you for signing up, I'm sure you'll have a great time, but if you change your mind just let me know. I send the participant list round the day before the chase, and we meet on the morning in the main lecture theatre downstairs in case anyone has to pull out last minute."
Belle nodded, and was about to give Cara her list back when she spotted a name upon it that made her let the sheet go with a shrill exclamation.
"Belle?" Ruby asked.
"Dr Gold's doing it?" she blurted out.
"Ah, yes." Cara grinned. "His participation always ensures we make a pretty penny. Mainly because the majority of the staff are too scared to go anywhere near him. He's never been marked ever since he started, and everyone bets on whether this'll be the year, and which brave soul breaks his record."
Belle bit her bottom lip, releasing it long enough to say her thanks and goodbyes to Cara, and thought about Dr Gold, and the first time that she had met the history department's own resident dragon, in her first week at the university…
"Ruby, do you know Dr Gold?" Belle asked.
Ruby, who had been leaning back in her chair with her feet on her desk reading a well thumbed copy of Jane Eyre and marking it with a highlighter, brought all four chair legs down with a heavy thump, her own feet following shortly after.
"Dr Gold," she said, her voice utterly incredulous.
"Yes."
"Dr Gold," Ruby repeated. Belle frowned.
"Yes. I asked Prof Spencer who runs the Museums and Archiving Masters course, because I want to speak to him or her about the text archiving part of my research. The prof told me to go to Dr Gold."
"Oh." Ruby looked pained. "Oh dear." She paused. "Are you sure you want to?"
"Yes." Belle folded her arms and fixed Ruby with a pointed stare. "Ruby, what is wrong with Dr Gold?"
"Well." Ruby grimaced. "If you're sure." She spread her hands. "Dr Gold – who is a him, by the way – is the deputy head of the history department, specialist in archiving and preservation, particularly of Greek antiquities. He's been at SBU for ten years, and is known by the students as 'the beast'." She made air quotes.
"He's also known as Rumpelstiltskin." Mary Margaret popped her head round the door. "No, seriously," she added. "He's extremely select about who he gives his first name to, so everyone just took to calling him Rumpelstiltskin. Honestly, it's got to the stage where you can call 'Rumpel' down the corridor and he'll answer you."
Belle looked from Ruby to Mary Margaret and back again.
"Dr Gold, who has been known to reduce Freshers to tears with a single raised eyebrow, who never gives a mark above 69%, who has had no less than four students run screaming out of their end-of-term exams and who once tripped up a particularly irritating final-year with his cane in full view of half the faculty," said Ruby with relish.
"Oh the upside," Mary Margaret said, "he is the only one who can really get under the Dean's skin and get away with it. He's absolutely brilliant at what he does and the university board won't get rid of him whilst we've got the best reputation for archiving, so she just has to grit her teeth and put up with it."
Belle took a deep breath.
"Where's his office?" she asked brightly.
Ruby jerked her head towards the door. "Second floor, east wing. Number 240. Good luck."
"Honestly," Belle muttered under her breath as she gathered up her papers. "Cara's the dragon, Gold's Rumpelstiltskin, the Dean's the Evil Queen. Who are you two, Red Riding Hood and Snow White?"
Ruby and Mary Margaret just laughed, and Belle left them to meet her fate.
She found room 240 with little trouble and hesitated before knocking. If Dr Gold really was as bad as all that… She shook her head and rapped briskly on the door. If there was one thing that Belle had learned about academics, it was that they adored talking about themselves and their subject, so asking for his expertise would hopefully not incur his wrath.
"Come in."
The voice was soft and Scottish, and disarming. Belle turned the door handle slowly, inserting her head into the room in order to do a recce before she deemed it safe to enter fully. The office took her breath away, a veritable Aladdin's cave of beautifully preserved junk. Dr Gold was sitting at his desk; he looked up as she entered and Belle could say categorically that he was not what she'd been expecting. She'd had visions of a crabbed professor of ninety-odd years with a long beard and stained fingernails wearing a cardigan and bow tie. Gold, however, was an impeccably dressed and remarkably normal-seeming man of about middle-age.
"Since you're not offering any explanation as to why you're here, and since you did knock and didn't simply barge in unannounced as do my superiors, and since the undergraduates haven't started classes yet, I'm assuming you're a new PhD student." He surveyed her sagely. "Am I right?"
"Yes." Belle came towards the desk. "My name's Belle French, I'm doing my doctorate under Albert Spencer."
"Ah, that old prune. I've half a mind to preserve him myself. I apologise, I shouldn't speak ill of my colleagues. Do continue."
Belle squashed a small smile.
"Anyway, my thesis is on the history of the library and its role in society and literature through time. I wanted to include a section on text archiving, and I wondered if you could point me in the right direction."
"I see my reputation precedes me. Come, sit down, I don't bite, despite what the rest of the faculty might tell you." Gold rose from behind his desk and indicated for Belle to take a seat at the table in one corner. It was rare for lecturers to speak to their students from behind a desk, it made the exchange too much like a formal teacher-pupil one. He collected his cane from the umbrella stand and limped over to sit beside her, holding out a hand for her papers. "Let me see now." He began to read. "How are you settling in? Have you got your own office or are you squeezed in with someone else?"
"Fine, thank you. I'm sharing with Ruby Lucas."
"Cara's wonderkid. Keep on the right side of those two; they'll help you out if you've got any problems with the Dean."
He went back to reading, and Belle studied his face carefully, looking for signs of approval or disapproval. She'd never felt more like a first-year since, well, her first year. For some reason Gold's opinion now seemed very important, possibly since she'd discovered he wasn't ninety and he was, dare she think it, actually rather attractive, and he didn't seem to be quite the terror that Ruby had painted him as.
Gold's face remained completely impassive until he reached the end of the page and arched one eyebrow. Belle's heart sank.
"Well, you certainly have a fresh approach to the subject," he said.
"Yes, well, I know it's not exactly traditional, but I'm…"
"Oh no, you misunderstand, Miss French. I like it, it's very rare to see someone who's brave enough to break the mould. I'm no great scholar when it comes to English literature, but if the rest of your thesis follows the same line then it will make for very interesting reading."
"Oh." Belle blinked. "That's all right then." She paused. "Do you think you can advise me as to some good authors to start with?"
"Yes, I think I'll be able to help."
Dr Gold had proved most helpful, to the extent of making them a cup of tea as they'd continued to discuss historical literature, and Belle had amassed a pile of books littered with bright yellow page markers. It had all been going remarkably well until there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," Gold called.
Ruby rushed into the office.
"Hello Dr Gold I was looking for Belle as we've got to get to a thing in five minutes," she said without pausing for breath, the words falling over themselves in her haste.
"A thing?" Gold repeated.
"What thing?" asked Belle.
"You know," Ruby said through gritted teeth. "That thing."
"Oh yes," said Belle, still not knowing what her friend was on about. "That thing. Can't I finish my tea first?"
"No!"
"Ok, I'm coming. Thank you for your help, Dr Gold, and for the tea."
"Not at all, Miss French."
She put down her half-drunk cup and left the room with Ruby.
"What on earth was that about?" she hissed.
"I was rescuing you from Gold!" Ruby exclaimed, as vehemently as she could whilst still keeping her voice a whisper. "You were in there for an inordinately long time. I was beginning to think he'd taken his cane to you and was burying you under the quad!"
"As it was, we were having a cup of tea and talking about text archiving," Belle said wryly. "Very dangerous."
"Yes, well…" Ruby was floundering. "It's not my fault that he happened to be having a once in a blue moon good day today. Just wait till he gets going on the undergrads, you'll see."
Give Ruby her due, Belle had seen the ruthless side of him, or at least heard it. She remembered one particular incident where she and Ruby had been walking along the corridor towards their office and they'd heard a familiar, rather exasperated Scottish accent yelling.
"Has ANYONE read the set text this week? Right, that's it, if you haven't read it you can get out of this seminar, you're absolutely no use here at all. I thought I made it abundantly clear at the start of term that if you can't be bothered to do your prep, you needn't bother turning up at all. Well go on then!"
Eight very shaken looking students had filed out of the classroom from which Gold's voice had emanated, and Ruby had looked at her companion knowingly. Despite the horror stories that kept flying around, Belle couldn't help but see the best in everyone, including Gold. However much he might snap at his students when they didn't do their work, he always had time for Belle if she wanted to ask him anything. She'd come to the conclusion that he was the same as any other academic, just more short-tempered with it – he was passionate about his subject, and he expected the best from his students.
Her opinion was justified a few weeks later, the week after mid-term essays had been turned in. The week prior to the deadlines had been a hectic one for Belle and Ruby; their undergrads constantly asking them for help with their writing skills, and Belle had only just had time to catch up on her research whilst the lecturers took on the new stress of marking the papers.
It was a Thursday morning, when Gold held his open office hours, and Belle had come along to return the latest set of books she'd borrowed off him. There was already a student waiting outside his office when she arrived, and Belle could tell that the girl was absolutely petrified. In her shaking hands, she held what appeared to be a mid-term essay with a standard marking sheet on the top. In the space where the mark was written was 34% - the girl had failed the essay, the standard pass mark was forty. Instead of any feedback in the appropriate sections on the sheet, there were two words below the mark in bright red block capitals. SEE ME.
Belle bit her lip, desperately wanted to say something to calm the other girl down but not quite knowing what would be appropriate.
The clock struck ten and the office door opened.
"Miss Boyd, do come in please. Miss French, you may want to take a seat."
Belle nodded as the trembling girl entered the room. Gold closed the door, and Belle settled herself on the chair outside.
"Take a seat, please, Miss Boyd. Oh, don't start crying, Ashley, I haven't even said anything yet. There, have a Kleenex."
It occurred to Belle that she probably shouldn't be eavesdropping on a private consultation, but Gold had told her to wait, and it wasn't her fault that she could hear through the door. Ashley said something in reply, but it was inaudible.
"I'm not angry," Gold said. "I'm just surprised. You got some of the best results in the module last year, you always do your preparation properly, you always hand everything in on time, and now you give me this. To be honest, thirty-four is generous. You've got no hypothesis, no conclusion, your referencing's up the creek and I can tell you've been paraphrasing from your last essay. What I want to know is, why this sudden change?"
Ashley didn't reply.
"Were you ill during the writing week or something?" Gold asked. "Ashley, I'm trying to help here. If there's a reason for this dip then I can apply to the mitigation committee and they might be able to do something about allowing you to rewrite, or excising the mark so that it doesn't count towards your final score at the end of the year."
Silence.
"Ashley, if you don't tell me what happened then I can't help."
"I can't tell you!" Ashley blurted out. "You wouldn't understand!"
"I may be a decrepit relic now, but I was an undergraduate myself once upon a time, you know. After all I've seen in my time, nothing's likely to shock me, so please, do yourself a favour, take another Kleenex and for God's sake, tell me why you're so bloody wound up so I can get the mitigation committee helping you."
Silence again.
"Fine. Then I can't help you, your fail stands, you'll need to score a near-impossible eighty-six percent on your end-of-term paper in order to get a high enough grade to do the Museums and Archiving Master Prep course next year, and I know, because I'm head of undergrad applications for history, that the MA is what you're ultimately aiming for. So to be blunt, there's your choice. Give me something to work on so that I can help you, or jeopardise your career."
"That's blackmail," Ashley sniffed.
"No, it's stating a fact."
"I can't tell you!" Ashley wailed again. "I haven't even told Sean, I can't tell my professor!"
There was a scraping of chair-legs on the floor and Belle leaned back as the door was flung open. Ashley rushed out of the room and down the corridor.
Belle peered around the doorframe. Gold was leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed.
"And thus another student runs out of big, bad Dr Gold's office in tears," he grumbled. "I don't mind the infamy, it's the fact they always leave the damn door open." He sighed. "I know you're there, Miss French." He opened one eye and looked at her blearily. "I know I'm the monster of the humanities faculty, and it's a reputation I've never minded as it brings me students who work hard to earn my respect and get good results. What they never seem to twig is that I've got better things to do than wrangle with the Committee on a whim; I don't offer help if I've no intention of sticking to the deal."
Belle felt a pang of sympathy and stepped into the office, putting down the books on the table.
"Should I go after Ashley?" she asked.
"No, no, it's all right. If what I suspect is wrong with her is actually the case, then she'll be throwing up in the ladies at the end of the corridor and won't want company. She's left all her stuff here; she'll be back, at which point I'll tell her my suspicions and see what she says." He sighed. "What did you want to see me about, Miss French?"
"Nothing really, I was just returning the books. I've got a meeting with Spencer soon."
Gold nodded.
"That's a shame. I could use some intelligent conversation before I have to send half my first-years home in disgrace. You'd better get going. It would never do to keep His Majesty waiting."
Belle turned to leave.
"You know, I really don't think that any lecturer who's prepared to go to the mitigation committee and ask them to overturn a mark that he himself gave can be called a monster," she said quietly.
The ghost of a smile flickered across Gold's face.
"Thank you, Belle."
As Belle made her way out of the history department towards her own, a sudden thought struck her. That was the first time that Gold had ever used her first name.
"Belle!"
Belle looked up to see Ruby staring at her.
"Sorry, what?"
"Honestly, I've been trying to get your attention for the last ten minutes."
"Sorry, I was miles away."
"Yeah, and I know where." Ruby paused. "I must say, though, if anyone's going to break Gold's record, it'll be you, my dear. I don't think anyone would deny that you bring out the best in him."
"I don't know what you mean," Belle muttered, hastily diving back into her papers.
"Oh come on, everyone knows that he's got a soft spot for you, and it doesn't take a genius to see that it's reciprocated."
"I…"
"Would you be jealous if you saw him wearing another woman's lipstick?" Ruby asked plainly.
"Well…" She would, Belle thought, but there was no way she'd admit that to Ruby.
"Exactly; you can't deny it."
"Ruby! He's a deputy-head of department who did his post-grad at Cambridge; I've done less than three months of my PhD and have never even been to Cambridge, let alone studied there! He wouldn't look at me twice!"
"And yet he still invites you in for tea every time he's got new books in," Ruby observed drily. "Face it, Belle, you both fancy each other and you're both just too stubborn to admit it."
Belle sighed and tried to concentrate on her work. What Ruby said made sense, and if she was right, then Friday seemed the perfect opportunity to do something about it.
Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow, she told herself.
X
Belle was sitting in the palatially proportioned office of the Dean of the Humanities Faculty, and she could categorically state that she did not like it there. Spencer had somehow managed to get her allowed to sit in on a faculty committee meeting; they were talking about allocating resources and library management, and Spencer had thought that Belle might get something out of it for her research. The Dean, Belle could tell, was not at all happy about this. Professor Mills was known to everyone – even the most senior staff who had been there longer than she had – as the Evil Queen, and it was a nickname she well lived up to. Belle had only met her once before, when she'd first joined the faculty, and if she never saw her again for the duration of her study, it would be too soon.
"Are we all here?" the Dean asked, pointedly ignoring the empty space at the table that should have been filled. "Let's begin. As you can see, we're joined today by Miss French, who will be observing the meeting in case its findings are useful to her PhD research."
In other words, Belle thought, she was to sit quietly and not interrupt the grown-ups.
"My apologies, Dean Mills, I was speaking to a student about her mitigation plea." Gold's body followed his voice round the corner into the room, his caneless hand balancing a takeaway cup of tea on top of a precarious stack of papers. "Please don't yell or I'll end up spilling my tea over your so beautifully typed meeting agenda, and wouldn't that be a waste?"
"Dr Gold, I…"
"I did say please."
The Dean pursed her lips but remained silent until the archiving lecturer was seated.
"Dr Gold, this is unacceptable."
"Putting my students before my committee meetings is unacceptable. Right, I'll bear that in mind," Gold said coolly. "Have you put that on the minutes, Mr Glass?"
"Everything that's said gets written," the Dean's secretary called from the corner of the room, his pencil flying over the page in front of him in incomprehensible shorthand.
"Right, let's move on," said the Dean frostily. "First item on the agenda… Professor Marco, what are you doing?"
"I believe he's trying to work out whether or not it's worth putting his specs on in order to read this drivel," Gold muttered, indicating the sheet on the table in front of him; the Italian was holding his own copy at arms' length and squinting at it. "I wouldn't bother if I were you, Professor."
"Rumpel, behave," said Cara Mallory sternly, but Belle could tell that she was forcing back a smile. In the corner, Sid Glass was bent double in silent laughter. Belle bit the inside of her cheek and kept quiet, which was easier said than done when the troublemaker caught her eye across the conference table and winked at her.
Rumpelstiltskin, two. The Evil Queen, nil.
Belle was dragged from her daydream by the arrival of more people in the humanities building's main lecture theatre. Ruby was sitting beside her, touching up her lipstick. The morning of the Chase had arrived, and with it Belle's confidence at enacting her not-at-all-thought-through plan of catching Gold had vanished into the ether.
"Right, everyone's here," Cara began. "Now, I'll just reiterate the rules again, because we really don't want to give the Dean any reason to stop us when we've already made twenty-three pounds this morning."
(Belle had seen the stand in the building foyer where a couple of final-year students were already collecting bets and predictions from the cleaning staff. The odds on Gold retaining his record were 5/1. The odds on Professor Marco getting to the end of the day unmarked were 600/1. The numbers didn't mean anything as the gamblers didn't actually win any of the money back, but it was fun to see how the predictions went.)
Cara went over the rules of the game again, and finished by announcing that David Nolan had had to pull out due to an unexpected meeting with the Dean in the afternoon.
"Oh." In the row behind Ruby, Mary Margaret sounded rather disappointed by this news.
"Well, I think that's about it," Cara concluded. "Now, gentlemen, as is custom, you get a three minute head start. Good luck to you all, and we meet back here at six to see the results!"
Belle watched Gold leave the theatre. All she needed now was an opportunity.
X
If she was going to be brutally honest, it was not turning out to be the most successful of days. Virtually all thoughts of the Chase had been put out of Belle's head by her morning class, who had proved particularly rambunctious for no apparent reason. Indeed, she wasn't having much luck on the chasing score at all. She hadn't been at the university long enough to be able to recognise the staff so short of following Ruby around, she didn't really know who she was allowed to chase and who she wasn't. The only mark she'd left was on a Spanish professor who'd been in the lunch queue behind her and Ruby, and who had, from the evidence on his cheeks, given up trying to avoid the women quite some time ago.
It was five to three, the corridor was packed with students, and the collision was inevitable. There was nothing Belle could do about it except pray for the best. Her arms were full of photocopies for her class in five minutes, and Gaston, the hugely arrogant French PhD student who lived in the office above her and Ruby was on a crash course straight for her, not looking where he was going, like always.
Smack.
Belle's papers flew everywhere as she landed on her rump in a very ungainly position. Pain shot through her wrist as she put it out to catch herself.
"Watch out!" Gaston yelped, too late. Belle rolled her eyes and didn't reply, focusing on trying to ascertain the damage. She was pretty sure she hadn't broken her wrist, but it still hurt like the devil. A couple of students took pity on her and began to chase up her papers. That was when Belle heard the corridor around her fall into stillness and silence.
"Pick them up."
The voice was soft, Scottish, and sounded extremely dangerous.
"What?"
"Pick Miss French's papers up. You ran her down, so I think the least you can do is pick up the papers you scattered to the four winds."
Belle looked up as she gingerly got her legs underneath her to get up. Gold was standing perfectly still in the corridor, staring Gaston down.
"I'm not going to tell you again," Gold snarled, and he left the student looking dumbfounded to pick his way over to Belle, offering her his free hand to help her up. Belle took it in her uninjured one and pulled herself to her feet; he was surprisingly strong considering his own precarious balance.
"Thank you," she murmured, acutely embarrassed by all the people watching the spectacle. Between them, Gaston and the students had collated her papers and one of the first years brought them over, Gaston having already pushed his way through the crowds and out of sight. Gold narrowed his eyes.
"I should have made him apologise," he muttered.
"It's all right, really," Belle said.
"Hmm. Are you hurt?" Gold asked.
"Just shaken. Well, my wrist hurts where I landed on it."
"Come on, come and have a cup of tea to calm your nerves."
Belle shook her head.
"I'm teaching now," she protested, but Gold merely raised an eyebrow at her.
"Miss Lucas can cover for you for a while, I'm sure. It's Chase day, so I doubt she'd doing anything extremely important at the moment in her free period."
Belle couldn't help her eyes flickering to Gold's cheeks. He wasn't wearing any traces of lipstick, but it felt rather inappropriate to change that at that precise point in time.
"I'm not going to ask how you know that Ruby's free at the moment," she muttered, pulling out her phone.
"Hi Belle," Ruby said, picking up almost immediately. "Are you ok?"
"Yeah… No… I just had a fall."
"I heard, I'm on my way down now."
"You heard? It happened less than five minutes ago!"
"Believe me, when Dr Gold swoops in as a knight in shining armour, word gets round." Ruby cut off suddenly, and Belle saw her waving from the other end of the corridor.
"Ok," she said brightly, skidding up to them and taking the papers from Gold, who'd taken them off the first year. "You scoot off and recover; I've got this." She grinned and pressed her bright red lips together in anticipation of Gold's clean cheek in such close proximity, and he seemingly oblivious to her presence next to his ear, but then she caught Belle's eye, winked and set off in the opposite direction with a little wave and a call of 'I'll see you both at six!'
Belle and Gold made their way along to the latter's office, and Belle sank into the offered chair whilst Gold put the kettle on.
"Ok, let me have a look at your wrist," he said, having brought her tea over. Belle held out her hand to him and Gold traced his fingers over it, encouraging her to flex her fingers and bend her wrist as much as she could.
"Not broken," he proclaimed. "Possibly sprained. Give me a minute."
He left the room and returned a few moments later with an icepack wrapped in a tea-towel.
"It's more my pride that's injured," Belle admitted.
"I know. You only ever fall on your arse when there's an audience. I've done it enough times. Ice and a cane do not for a good combination make. In fact, I never got on with ice very much before I had the cane. Everyone in the faculty will tell you a different, and, may I say, ludicrously fictional, tale of how I came by the limp, but the truth is the rather boring 'I broke my knee in my own driveway', I'm afraid."
Belle suppressed a laugh with a sip of tea.
"So, how's the doctorate coming along?" Gold asked presently.
"Well, it's still early days yet, but I've been accepted on a three month research place at the British Library after Christmas."
"You'll definitely be missed," Gold said. He sounded slightly wistful at the thought.
"I'll be back in March," Belle assured him with a smile.
"I won't be," Gold said. His returning smile was tight, and didn't reach his eyes. "I'm on research leave next term. I won't be back at SBU till September."
"Oh." All lecturers took research leave – generally one term's worth every three or four years – but it hadn't occurred to Belle that Gold might be going. Everyone always spoke of him as such a permanent fixture. "Well, you'll definitely be missed too."
Gold laughed. "I think some of my students might beg to differ."
Belle rolled her eyes.
"I'll miss you," she said firmly.
"Thank you, Miss French." He paused. "I'll miss you too."
Belle smiled and finished her tea.
"Thank you for everything, Dr Gold. Sorting out Gaston, the tea, the ice…"
"Oh, you can thank Dr Nolan for that, I pinched it from his first aid box."
"I should probably go back to my class now, relieve Ruby so she can get back to hunting down Jefferson. Apparently he's almost as elusive as you are."
"Ah, I saw him earlier. I'm afraid one of our department has beaten Miss Lucas to him. Dr Tempest wears a very distinctive plum colour that I've been assiduously avoiding for seven years."
Belle got up to leave, and decided to take her chance. This was it. If all it was to him was a meaningless peck for charity, then so be it. She only had to last until Christmas and then she wouldn't see him again for nine months. She was about three inches from his cheek when she stopped.
"I don't bite," Gold said softly. "It is the Charity Chase, after all, and we are both participating."
"I know. I just feel that breaking your record isn't the best way to repay you for your help."
"Belle, believe me, I'd wear your mark with pride."
It was her first name that swung it. He tilted his head towards her slightly. Belle pressed her lips against his cheek, hard enough to leave a smudge but hopefully tender enough to betray her feelings. His skin was warm and smooth, still too early yet for his shadow to be coming through.
Gold sighed.
"God, Belle, I've waited all term for you to do that," he murmured.
Her heart skipped.
"Really?"
Gold nodded. "You're intelligent, you're not afraid to blaze your own trail in your field, you're very beautiful and you refused to believe everyone who told you I was a terror. Including me. I don't believe in love at first sight but I knew you were something special when you first walked into my office." He suddenly stiffened and pulled away from her. "Sorry, that was inappropriate."
Belle smiled.
"I don't think it was," she said. "Because I've kind of been waiting all term to do it."
"Really?"
"You're passionate about what you do, you always stick to your word even if it gets you maligned or into trouble, you're not at all unattractive yourself, and…"
Belle was cut off by Gold pulling her in and capturing her mouth with his, and she closed her eyes and surrendered to it. She hadn't quite planned on this turn of events, but she couldn't deny that she was incredibly pleased with it.
At length they broke away by mutual consent, and Belle began to giggle.
"What?" Gold asked.
"You have a lecture at four o'clock, don't you?"
"Yes…"
"And you know you can't wipe the lipstick off till the end of the day, don't you?"
"Yes… Oh… Damn..."
Belle ran a fingertip over his scarlet-smeared lips and he cringed when it came away coated in make-up.
"Right. This might require some explaining to my final-years…"