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Mr. Gold walked the cold street of the town square. Unfortunately his late night stroll was not brought on by the need to track down a renter. The watch, that he obsessively checked every day now was correct, told him it was far from the hour he was worried about. Still, no explanation came to mind that would make it all make sense, and the tawdry features of Storybrooke hardly did much alleviate his mind or his frustration. As he turned the corner, he saw the old library under the clock tower had lights in it, low flickering ones like candles. That drew his attention. A squatter would have to be very sloppy to allow themselves to be visible like that, and there was little of value left inside the building.
But who else would look out for trouble in his town? He pushed the door. Unlocked. He walked inside slowly, an advantage he learned a lifetime ago, little used now. He heard shuffling of footsteps, some thuds of objects being displaced. A huff of frustration at descending thuds alerted him to falling books. One ended up at the corner of the shelf. He stooped to pick it up and peeked around the corner.
The woman there jumped as she saw him. Well, not a reception he was unused to.
"I believe this is yours." he held out the book.
"Oh, yes! Um, thank you, um... Mr. Gold." she took it with an uncertain but polite smile.
It became very quickly obvious to him that she was quite beautiful. He wouldn't let that deter him from his suspicions, however.
"Naturally. May I ask what you're doing here, Miss...?"
"Oh! Um, Belle. French. I'm... the new librarian."
Moe French's daughter. He had seen only the edge of her skirt or hand or back of her head before, to his memory. Moe often warded off Belle from being there when Gold had come to collect his loan payment, and Gold didn't have enough reason to bother to interact with some young girl so he never pressed the issue, only seeing her in glances from afar.
"Ah, yes. You were away a while, weren't you? Your relatives..."
"Yes, there were some wildfires and they needed help recouping... I did what I could, but it was more or less decimated."
"You are one brave woman, Miss French."
She brightened, that smile softening at him like it was a full compliment. That was not a reception a man like Gold was used to.
"Thanks. I just... did what I could. Though it wasn't much bigger than Storybrooke, honestly, their entire town. So little was left after the fire."
"And you've come to revive the old library? In the middle of the night?"
She giggled, if a tad uneasily. "Um, yes. I've been helping at my father's shop still, so I only have my nights free until I get this place up and running. I need to reorganize almost the entire place, check on the condition of the books, get the books back into order, set up the check out system... Honestly, it would be nice to just get the lights back on." she gestured to the lanterns she had brought in.
"Ah, well. I can tell you, while the workings of the library belongs to the city, I am technically the proprietor of the building itself."
"So you'd be the man to talk to about that?" There was the slightest falter in Belle's expression.
"Nervous to deal with the town loan shark?" he grinned in his signature off-putting way.
She paused, smoothing over the cover of the book in her hands, then her expression firmed. "No. For one, I don't intend to ever owe money to you. I've heard enough from my father."
Smart and brave, Gold noted. A rare combination, in his experience. "Very good. While I'm a little surprised Mayor Miller didn't tell you about the additional documents of renting this place, I'm sure the requests are on the way to my office. I'll speak to the electric company soon. It will be a pleasure to do business with you, Miss French."
"I'm sure you only have the best interests of the public in mind, their education and right to town resources?" she hedged, her expression almost as calculating at his.
He was going to enjoy this. "Of course. And that of my business."
"Of course." she echoed, the smallest frown at the corner of her lips.
"I will leave you to your sorting, Miss French. I'm sure we'll see each other soon."
Belle gave him a polite nod as he showed himself out.
Yet, when Gold got the papers, requesting use of the building for town use... his pen hovered over the paper. The determined blue eyes for some reason stuck in his mind, uncannily familiar. Strangely, the rate and conditions he wrote down could even be termed reasonable by the standards of the average citizen.
-*-
Gold returned the following night, when the he could see the overhead lights starting to flicker on. Some of them would need to be changed, the dusty brick-and-brack of the old library appeared even worse and like a horror-film set under the uneven lighting. Perhaps he should start reconsidering Miss French's intellect, given the venture.
"Mr. Gold." Belle greeted, politely but with an edge in her voice, just enough to betray her wariness after the talk of business practices. No doubt she heard enough about him from her father and her initial impression of him was starting to prove that true.
"Miss French." he replied in return. As he craned his neck to make a show of glancing around the shelves, seeing the piles of books and boxes, and the amount of half-faded papers pulled out from behind the counter... "This place appears to have been hit with a storm of bookworm bitten paper and mold."
"Yes." Belle's nod was jerky, going to re-stack a mound of books set on the cracked table behind her, her hands a bit clumsy as he watched her closely. Still, that firm edge of her voice remained. "It will look like that for a time. I'm going to get through the spots where damage is still happening as quickly as possible. It will be done, as fast as I can move them."
He noticed her defensiveness, naturally. Belle was a bit on edge, yet... he was impressed. Especially being Moe French's daughter, she seemed oddly brave but not foolishly angry for it. He observed her organizing a moment longer, watching her hands and up to the set of her jaw, her brown curls falling over her shoulder...
"Well, Miss French, this is a large task. At this rate, it would take you a month to get through them all, and that's if you didn't sleep. And I'd certainly like to make sure any property of mine is well manned."
"I know, but I can manage it. I promise, Mr. Gold, I'll have a timeline done by tomorrow, and I'll make sure it's all in top shape-"
The resolve gleamed in her despite his almost-warning, and his mouth moved before he could really think about it.
"Perhaps you could use a hand."
She blinked at him. "...Excuse me?"
Gold rapidly put together a justification. "I am a creature of the night, Miss French, and books have their uses. At this time, I have no debtors to hound at this hour. I would rather my property was back in proper order sooner rather than later. I'm not any stranger to wet work, despite what some may think."
"Oh." Belle studied him a moment, and she took a half-step back, like she was trying to gauge if the snake in the grass was poisonous or not. "And what do I do in return?"
Smart woman indeed. Committed to his word already, Gold went through his usual tricks. "Frankly, Miss French, I haven't been out of Storybrooke for some time. All my business needs close managing. Tell me about what you saw on the road to your relatives and back, tell me about the days spent in Boston."
"That's it?"
"Do you protest my supervision?"
She bristled slightly at the words, but Gold found the usual self-satisfaction of belittlement didn't come so easily to him this time.
"No. I suppose not. Thank you, Mr. Gold."
"My pleasure."
He surveyed the stacks and after a moment, leaned against the shelf so he could set down his cane and use both hands. He shrugged off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Belle watched him as he did, likely in suspicion. Not that he could blame her.
"Alright. Explain your system to me."
At the deference, he saw her shoulders ease again.
-*-
The flickering lights and sorting property with a loan shark did feel more like something from a grim mafia novel than anything a pretty young woman should be involved, but here they were. He was not one to hold his tongue if he thought someone's plan was idiotic, unless that was to his favor. However, Belle's plan to tackle the mess was surprisingly thoughtful, and he had been fine being set to work. A couple of hours of bringing up dust, and Belle nearly dropping an entire armful of books beyond help when he actually made a joke. He must have imagined the slight glimmer of curiosity in her eyes once the surprise had faded.
All in all, he was just grateful that Belle had tired quickly that he left with some allowance on the clock.
He made it back in just time. He let himself into his home, without turning no the lights. He moved to his room, undressing swiftly. He kept the lights off, curtains drawn, eyes firmly down on the bedspread. Just in case.
Among the echoes he always saw when the clock chimed were his own. The first time he saw that creature in the mirror... talons and scaled, like some awful lizard. Inhuman. He didn't want to think of what it could mean, and he more than certainly didn't want to see it again.
-*-
The next time, Gold returned once it was almost fully dark. The light looked like one oasis in the night. Perhaps that's what he needed, to clear his mind from the images.
Belle had lugged a box of books next to a chair. He realized it was for him - easier to sort with both hands, when he wasn't relying so much on his cane. He could stand some periods of time without it when not doing anything too strenuous, however... It was thoughtful.
It felt a bit like showing weakness, but it wasn't like he had ever hid the fact that he needed a cane (or the damage he could do with it when provoked) so he sat gingerly and began sorting through the boxes.
"It's about time I start filling my side of the deal, I suppose." Belle started. At his gesture of attention, she went on. She told him about the journey down to the small town of her relatives, the crowds of people and the towering trees. She began to falter as she reached the burned town itself.
"Was there anywhere else you wanted to see?" he redirected, seeing the melancholy in her eyes.
He was pleased by the results, as she did her work and spoke. She was eloquent, even excited at times. Her being seemed to start lighting up with a fervor and then a longing. An odd something zinged through him by the time she had to catch her breath because of run-on sentences. When her energy seemed to taper down into that yearning again, he didn't prod. They worked in amiable silence for a time.
He found a handful of childrens books in the stack. He opened one to check for any damage. It was alright, just a bit worn. His fingertip lingered on the image of a young boy playing shepherd and a sheep.
His mouth tasted bitter.
Belle caught him looking, pausing her own sorting. "...Do you have any children?" she asked, carefully.
He swallowed, not turning to her. "No." he said finally. "No children at this time."
If she realized the omission, she didn't voice it. He was grateful for that, taking one more moment to look at the picture before setting it aside. By the time he did manage to face her, Belle was turned back to her own work.
She didn't leave any more children's books for him to sort that night.
-*-
He cut it too close this time. He was driving as fast as he thought he could keep a hand on to get home, but still not fast enough. He felt that familiar tingling overcome him, down his scalp and spine, wiggling its way deep under his skin. He stopped the car, flipped his hazards on and parked. He squeezed his eyes shut, resting his head against his steering wheel. Don't look, don't look, don't look.
It felt dizzying, swimming. It called to him again and again, worse when he knew a mirror was right there. He wouldn't look up. He wouldn't.
Coward.
-*-
Gold walked out of the shop with an extra set of keys heavy in his pocket. Moe French had failed to pay up on his loan that month, again, and as usual the punishment was confiscating his collateral. Namely, the delivery van that Moe insisted was the only reason he could work fast enough to pay back his loans.
As he rounded the corner, he almost ran directly into Belle. They both reared back slightly, and he saw the second her heel met empty air instead of curb, just a step too far. He grabbed her arm quickly, hauling her towards him a little too hard. She collided with his chest and he steadied himself with his cane.
For a befuddled moment, she was holding onto his shoulder, inches apart from him. She looked up, just as turned around as he. Her face was a close to his, slightly red with cold. The natural light, something he hadn't seen her in before, lit up her skin. It showcased the bridge of her nose, the apples of her cheeks, a curl of hair astray sticking down next to those eyes, an even clearer and more dazzling blue in sunlight than in the florescents of the library at night.
Still catching her breath, she licked her lips, and he almost wrenched back away from her. Had he been staring?
"Um, thank you." Belle breathlessly greeted him, tucking hair behind her ear with a gloved hand.
"Er- yes. Nothing - no trouble. We were- were both lost in thought, I suppose." How fast had he been walking? Why was he as winded as she was?
She nodded an agreement, but as she ducked down to check the basket of flowers in her arms, he saw her studying him through heavy lashes. He glanced away sharply on instinct, feeling like he was a child caught stealing cookies by looking at her. And he had been, hadn't he? Looking at her. He wouldn't have noticed her quiet interest - not interest! Study. Curiosity, perhaps. He wouldn't have noticed her glancing at him in return otherwise.
Gold swore if his face was flush with anything other than the damn bitter cold of the overcast day he would end his day wringing someone's neck. Surely not.
Belle was still weighing him up for a moment longer, and he caught on with a shock that that was all it was, an inquisitiveness to her manner but nothing more. The earlier nervousness of their first meeting was long shed from her. Even running bodily into him, she... she hadn't flinched when he practically yanked her back across the sidewalk.
...God above, who was this woman? He clamped down on the first idea his mind conjured to explain her. No. He was good at analyzing people, but he couldn't get ridiculous notions in his head. As soon as he realized his emotions were showing on his face, his expression surely perplexed, he tried to smooth himself back to even but Belle was already looking away.
He watched her go to pick up a stray couple of flowers that had flown free of the basket, and any previous (foolish!) thoughts fled when he noticed she was limping.
An instinctive, annoyingly bright flare concern welled in him. He banished it viciously. Damn it all, Belle was not a woman to get herself into trouble. Likely she had sprained an ankle tripping over a curb as she nearly had done a moment ago or something as mundane.
"Miss French." he remarked, keeping his voice as casual as he could. "Are you alright? You look like you might need this cane more than I do today."
She turned and gave him a hurried, amused smile, but tiredness filled those pretty blue eyes, tension at the corner of her mouth betrayed her pain. "Oh, it's nothing. My father said the van had to go in for some repairs, so I swear I had to walk half of town to help with deliveries. This is the last one, but it's back across town again."
Gold's heart dropped. The new addition on his key ring suddenly felt heavy as a stone. It took him a moment to place the emotion, not because it was unknown to him entirely, but the context was unfamiliar. Guilt.
"Ah. I see. Bad timing on the part of the machine, then. We may as well share duties equitably tonight."
Weariness in her eased away slightly for that hypnotizing light of eagerness at the mention of the sorting tonight. Who knew the woman loved sorting musty old books and affixing shelves so much?
He cursed himself internally even as words spilled from his mouth. "W- um. Across town. King Street? I was heading that way myself." he lied. "Perhaps I could escort you in my car."
"Really?"
"May as well. If only to save less observant pedestrians from you." He quipped, shifting his grip on his cane.
Belle giggled, the sound almost delightful in the clear daylight. He found himself back to perplexed as he led her to his car, opening the door for her. She appeared almost natural in the high quality leather seats, her hair slightly astray, basket in her lap.
She thanked him with that same bizarrely pleased smile when he let her out.
As Gold watched her go, he came to a conclusion. It was true, Moe's business ran slower and harder without his van. It made no sense to hinder a business from paying him by withholding their means of production.
Moe French would find his keys mysteriously returned on his kitchen table the next morning.
-*-
Within a few days, Belle recovered from the long treks and was back to speaking to him quite cheerfully about not only the places she wanted to see, but the books that had inspired her to look for them.
Gold was... not enraptured certainly, he couldn't use that word, but interested. Her high energy was infectious and distracting. Which is how he ended up glancing at his watch purely on habit and found the clock at 11:59.
A cold dread swept over him. Not here. No, not here, he didn't want to see, didn't want to risk her knowing what he saw. Damn it. God damn it! Stupid, stupid. He should've known...
He ducked his head as the second ticked almost to the minute, but before he could truly say goodbye, he heard Belle begin to speak.
"Did you-"
Her voice rang too sharp in his ears and he instinctively whipped around to look at her.
Belle fractured across his vision. In the middle, the librarian with the sweet smile, talking beyond what could hear. His eyes darted from one side to the other, the ghosts of her standing side to side to side.
One was in a blue dress, smiling just as sweetly and oddly knowingly. The next was clad in leather and holding a knife, blazing and fierce. Another yet in a hospital gown with tangled hair, eyes empty and worried. Another in a fine dress and jacket, tears beginning to fall. And yet another, in a fine dress like a medieval royal but a depth to her gaze that said she had seen far too much.
Belle kept talking and each version of her did also, saying different things, each ghost speaking in words he couldn't make out. His head spun, around and around, trying to make sense of all of her, of every voice in his head, of every way his heart tried to ricochet. Every time his gaze tried to settle on one his heart skipped and squeezed and filled, over and over, and oh god, he looked at the one in the blue dress and he saw his own skin from the corner of his eye, turn into the monstrous scaled shine; he wrenched back violently but he couldn't get away from himself, oh god, no no-
"Mr. Gold? Gold, are you alright?" Belle was in front of him, a hand on his wrist. He flinched back from the touch, his skin singing, not sure which one touched him.
The 60 seconds were finally up and with all the force his mind could muster, he yanked away from the images, his vision settled back to one. He let out a long breath.
"Ah. Miss French. My apologies, I... well, it is late, I suppose I'm overtired." his smile was strained, he regretted. He was better than this.
"Oh, yeah, of course. Of course. Do you-"
"I have to go." he interrupted, and was out the door without his jacket.
His head ached fiercely on his way home. There it was again, those visions. What could he make of them? Nothing. Nothing sensible - like the others, a lot of them seemed like they sprung to life from the pages of fantasy novel. But usually it was just the form of a knight or peasant worker or a pretty noble. That was all. He had never seen so many versions of one person before. Why did one of them look like a young widow, one like a damn prisoner in some sanatorium? One a maid, another a queen?
He was losing his mind, truly. Surely none of those had any bearing on who Belle was, not in any meaningful way. So much for his insight theory.
He got home and hastily got himself to bed, undressing down to bottom layers but not daring to touch his own skin, desperately avoiding the light. Even though it was far past the time, he wouldn't look like a monster again, and yet... something felt terribly shaken to his core when he saw himself like that. Because he was missing something important, and he could only hope it had no bearing. That he wasn't truly some monster, no more than any other strict landlord. That monster looked like something more than that.
It took some time, even laying in bed, until that crawling dread startled to settle. Only then did he realize he had left his jacket in the library. Well. Good as any reason to go back. He was awfully rude, running out like that. He groaned internally. He would need to make amends. Perhaps he could find a gift next time he saw her... he focused on the blissfully mundane idea ,if abnormal for him, until he could finally sleep.
-*-
Gold crept slowly towards the library. Chiding himself. Just go in! What would the town loan shark have to be afraid of from a young woman with a kind smile?
He made himself walk in, and around the corner. Belle turned from the counter, and suddenly his usual cool remarks had fled him. He thrust the chocolates at her, which she took with a surprised breathy laugh, and then held out the book to her as abruptly.
Speak. Words. He had those. He was supposed to say something. Oh, god damn it, man, she's looking at you, say something-
"Are you trying to bribe me, Mr. Gold?" she giggled.
He made a noise. Nope, that wasn't words. He tried again. "I- no. I simply thought... recompense was appropriate. I was terribly rude yesterday, I apologize, I didn't mean-"
She beamed at him. "Oh, it's quite alright. I was just worried you weren't coming back. I'm glad you did."
Gold wondered, briefly, if he was having a heart attack. His chest felt like something akin to being slammed into a brick wall.
The beaming softened into a polite, confused smile. "They're beautiful. Thank you." Belle carefully set her gifts aside.
He shook himself internally. "Um - yes. You're welcome."
She gestured to his usual chair. He perched, regarding her for a long moment. Yet, no scolding came, no retribution. Finally, he settled back into routine. As if sensing his awkwardness, Belle started first, speaking of the an encounter from her father's shop. Slowly, he eased back into it. The atmosphere was warm again - or perhaps the heating was finally updated. He had put that order in days ago.
A while later, Belle was replacing books onto a now-dusted shelf, when she quickly snatched them back. "Tsk. This one's still wobbly. Could you come hold it for me?"
He rose to help while she checked the shelf brackets. Standing this close, he could smell her perfume. It was faint, floral, perhaps more overpowered by the scent of dust and books. It was peculiarly pleasant… He was startled out of his thoughts when she looked at him more expectantly.
"I'm sorry, Miss French. Can you repeat that?"
"You know, you may as well call me Belle by now." She added and he could see that the expectant look had some amusement in it. Two surprises in one night.
"Belle." he amended, mouth dry, trying not to sound practiced in the name. He would never admit to her he had tried it a number of times already. He didn't offer his name in return, and though she wilted slightly (and his chest suddenly felt heavy again), she continued after a beat before he was compelled to explain.
"I was saying, I've got this shelf but there's a few more on this bookcase... I think we could have this entire aisle outfitted in a few hours, though."
Gold glanced at the clock. Past 10:30 already. "I-"
"Oh!" She slapped her forehead. "But you need to be home before midnight?"
"How did you know that?" he felt a prickling down his spine. Did she have it too? Did she see through him somehow?
"You leave before midnight every time. The one time you up and dusted, it was after midnight when you left." Belle shrugged. "Do you have an appointment, or...?"
"Oh." He was a bit disappointed, but a sight more relieved. "No. I have... well, a condition."
"A condition?" he saw her eyes flicker down to his leg and back just as quickly.
"Not physical, so much. When it gets too late, I..." how would he explain this without sounding utterly insane? "I see people... double in front of me."
"Double? Your vision goes funny?"
Gold often tried not to lie, but he certainly loved a play on words. "Something like that. I see people, anyone, as overlapped versions of themselves, each one a little... different. It gives me headache."
"I hope it's not from something serious?"
"I don't believe so." he hoped, anyway. "However, I do prefer to be resting at home around midnight to avoid it altogether."
"Oh, well. I understand that." As ever, Belle's compassion startled him, like a rabbit finding that it was being helped free from the garden fence instead of brought in for stew. Even for this, it was off-putting that someone like her would show someone like Gold concern.
He felt a bit untethered from himself, something inside him not making a joint sort of sense. Belle took him far too off guard, even taking his mind off of the important facts. He put on one of his sharp grins. "Collecting the pawnbrokers secrets, are you, dearie?"
She didn't respond so much to the joke, nor did she seem unnerved, which in turn left him more rattled. She gave him an almost indulgent look in return, in fact. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."
Everything in his chest felt like it was no longer affixed, rattling inside him like a badly packed game board. For an odd naive moment, he thought maybe that sentiment was true.
-*-
As Gold stood back and surveyed the interior, he had to admit it looked very little like it had for the past near decade. There wasn't a spot of dust to be seen, all the small tables were polished, the counter shined, the books marked with neat shorthand for the organizational system.
"...I think we did it, Belle." Somehow, he felt more satisfied than even any of his antiquities had allowed lately.
She was aglow as she went over the space. "We did. It's... wow." there was a long beat and she turned to him, chin up. "This was a dream for me and I... I couldn't have done it without you. Ah! No, not just the landlord thing. This work would've taken me so many months on my own. And your company has made it all the better."
Gold found himself nearly speechless, gazing at her. She had a bright, fierce spirit about her, and her hair pulled back messily, streaks of dust clinging to her sleeves... she was beautiful, perhaps in some ways more than he had yet seen her.
"You... you're more than welcome. You told me your tales, held up your end of the deal. I expect you'll take fine care of the establishment. This work is certainly... due for a much bigger payoff than my little bit of elbow grease has contributed." he got out, haltingly.
"Let's call it even." she grinned and he found himself chuckling, though the sound felt caught in his throat.
"Squared away."
She cocked her head at him. "So, without your help and my tales, how am I supposed to get you to spend an evening with me?"
He had once thought he was having a heart attack in her presence, but this time felt like he was hit by a bolt of lightning. The beautiful woman standing in front of him - no. No, certainly, she wasn't suggesting...
Yet his heart felt frantic, spastic at the very idea.
Oh. Oh hell. He wanted to run right then, as the sky fell down over his ears. He knew suddenly what that feeling that had been chasing him for days with her was.
"What - what would Storybrooke's librarian want to do with the town loans hark, Belle?" Gold only heard ringing for a good moment.
"...more than just a loan shark." Belle was saying, smiling.
"No, I'm not." Gold almost spat the words, frustration fizzling at himself for allowing this to happen. To allow himself to start feeling - for this lovely young lady, this kind, hopeful woman...
"Gold-"
"I'm sorry. I have to go, Miss French. Good day." He lurched out of her range before her hand reached his arm and shouldered his way out the door.
-*-
Gold brooded deep in his shop. He certainly wasn't the most chivalrous of men. If those visions at night had anything to do with it, he was a monster. A beast. How could do this? After everything, be so absolutely moronic to fall for Belle? She was... good and light. She had dreams and the world ahead of her.
He leaned against the desk in his backroom. She flashed through his mind, the sight of her and her beautiful eyes, of her smile and tilt of her head... uncertainty turning quickly to warmth as days passed. She deserved better than someone like him. Some bastard who could just ruin her. He hadn't lied, that he was a creature of a night. And she... she was not. He was just stupid enough to let this happen, to...
He slumped against the tabletop and his insides just ached.
Unfortunately, by the next afternoon, he knew he couldn't just stay. He had left half of his things at the library. Jacket, watch, wallet... that is, if Belle hadn't thrown them into the gutter. He wouldn't blame her for it if she had.
He didn't want to go back, but he would have to crawl out and face the world one way or another. One evening, he could do. He cursed his traitorous heart the entire way, and looking at the library, he wanted to return to his den and coil into it.
No. Don't be such a coward for one little pain, he reprimanded. He walked himself in, as quietly as the first night. It was late. Hopefully she wasn't-
"Gold!" Belle surged out of the backroom, standing not more than five paces from him.
He grimaced. "Miss French." he cleared his throat. "I came to get my things-"
"No."
"...No?"
"No. You're going to stay and actually talk to me this time." Belle said firmly.
Only years of being so saved him enough to stand up straight and sneer at her. "And what does a little librarian think she can make me do?"
"Do not pull that with me. I am not one of your scared renters. You're going to listen to me." And this time, the determination was not only in her eyes or her voice, but her entire body seemed to radiate conviction.
He lapsed into silence.
"You're going to tell me why you suddenly turned on me right then."
"Miss French-"
"No!" Belle drew to her full height. "Stop that. Did I come on too strong? Were you uncomfortable?"
"...No." Gold rasped finally.
"Then what?"
"Miss French, you are starting a new career, you are not someone who should get involved with someone like... this. I felt perhaps we got too close, it was inappropriate, I wouldn't want to-"
"That's what you think?" she threw up her hands incredulously.
"I know that. You know what it would do to your reputation if people saw you with me? What your neighbors and friends would think? The citizens of this town know me well enough to know I could be completely untoward with a generous woman like y-"
"No. No, listen to me. Yes, I am only now getting started with a life of my own. And maybe I'm dreamy and hopeful. But I am not a naive woman, Gold. I am not. Just because I've never been in an alley fist fight or spent my nights at a dive bar doesn't mean I don't know how the world can work. Don't you dare pretend I am some sheltered, stupid girl!" Gold had never heard her yell before, and for all the times he had threatened, goaded, bartered with fearsome clients… he was fixed to his place, listening. "I am adult, who has eyes and a working brain. And I saw that town, I saw entire homes and lives brought to the ground after a fire. I saw the lack of mercy in the world, first when I lost my mother, and even more when I went there. I have seen it in the people of this town and in the stories of the world. I am not a child, and I am not someone to be protected from you, no matter what my father, or even you might say." Belle was panting, winding down now, though only in volume and not in vitality. "Do not write what I want out of this equation, Gold. Don't you dare."
Gold could do nothing but truly stare at her for a long moment, frozen. Because he had been selfish, as usual, but uncharacteristically stupid. He hadn't thought of Belle in this context in any true, realistic way, only what he could do to her. She was right in that much.
"...And that includes me?" he choked out, disbelieving. He could have been left out in a field all night, for how frozen he felt in that moment.
He was a monster. He knew that, bone deep now, didn't he?
As always, Belle broke his every conception and everything he knew about the world.
She crossed the space then, took his face in hand, and kissed him.
-*-
Gold thought he had maybe died, or collapsed, or had a stroke, or...
The feeling that her lips on his elicited, it felt like a supernova imploding between his ribs, felt like it would spill from his mouth to hers, out every pore. Too much, stoppered, flooding into him and into his veins, up into his heart. The path of it tingled and tickled and burned, something familiar and new all the same, somehow corralled in his skin.
He had gasped weakly against her soft mouth, parts of his brain coming back to in uneven sections. He found himself leaning into her, his hand on her arm but still hesitant. When Belle finally pulled away, her face triumphant and determined, he was still trying to catch up to what was happening and how it was possible.
"...Was that so bad?" Belle had none of his hesitation, her fingers already languidly stroking at his temple, down his cheek.
"...No." he stammered out after what felt like too long. "It's... you..."
Her victory softened in the lines of her face, going to stroke a lock of his hair back.
"...Really?" he asked, now softly, barely daring to.
"Really." She raised her other hand now, to clasp at the nape of his neck and curl hair around her fingers, her eyes taking him in a new way.
He slowly felt the air return to him, but breathing was still heavy, his mind more preoccupied with making what just happened real.
"You kissed me."
"How about a whole lot more of that?" She tugged him a bit closer and he could feel the warmth of her body, feel the front of her dress brush against him.
"You... Belle..." Gold tried in vain for a long moment to remember his logic, his reason for jumping back the first time. "Are you sure... you want to be seen with me?"
"I'm as vain as all that, you know."
"No, I mean, I'm a landlord and..."
"I know what you meant. Yeah." Belle's hand stopped exploring the planes of his face and she became serious again. "You feel it too, right? So... let me. Let us. Try, at the very least. Don't let this go... ignored. Please."
He could refuse. God, he should refuse.
Looking at her, he couldn't bring himself to.
He was nodding and then she was drawing him down for another kiss, and once she guided his hand to rest on her waist, he let himself touch her with less fear.
-*-
When midnight came that night, he stood in front of his mirror in the dim. He could see, just a bit. His head swam and the creature appeared in front of him, golden skin and talons and glittering eyes.
Gold faced it, at least for the first few seconds. He had to. If this is what was inside him, then he had to know how to hold it, how to keep it in check. Whatever monster was a part of him that he felt each night, he should protect Belle from it, right?
-*-
"Are you sure this is alright?" Gold asked, for the third time. Belle had sent him home the night before once he could breathe enough to remember what a car was, and he spent most of the night thinking of her and the impossibility of what she was proposing. “It may be a bit indecent to have you here, it’s only been a night-”
"Yes, it's fine. Stop asking." Belle laughed, watching him from the kitchen table.
He was making them dinner, to celebrate the library being ready to re-open. Belle had called him earlier in the day, and even warning her she'd spend some time only exasperated, she insisted on coming to see him anyway. He felt damnably nervous, and he had reverted to a meal he knew well how to make, but regretted it as he put the stew pot on to simmer a while and slid bread into the oven. It was so simple.
Belle had been been talking and starring dreamily at him as he prepared the food, waving away any and every attempt for her to help. It felt bizarre and yet... comforting, for as jumpy as he was.
"So... now we just wait?" She asked as he set a timer.
"Yes, essentially. I'm sorry, I told you, there's a lot of waiting-"
"I know, I know. I'm not bored, if that's what you're worried about." Belle offered her hand. He tentatively took it, feeling the warmth of her fingers around his, as she pulled him to the living room. She sat down on his sofa, clearly comfortable. It took some more tugging until he sat next to her.
"I'm not going to skin you for dinner, you know."
"I'd like to see you try." He drawled, but frankly, he'd have his own doubts. "I'm not... used to this."
"You'll get used to me." Belle reached over, to trail fingers through his hair again. "You can sit closer to me. I won't think you're about to ransom me if you're closer than three feet, you know."
He huffed but obliged in sliding closer. Gold wasn't used to being... so out of control, or feeling a bit like a teenage boy. It's not like he had zero experience, but it felt... different, with Belle. The thing between them still felt so fragile, and the image of the monster in the mirror still clawed at him now and again. He felt wary, not so much for her, as for the connection there. He was a surly, sometimes cruel man, and he had to be careful not to let that spill over with her.
"Hey." Belle drew his focus back to her. "So, dinner isn't for a while... would you mind if I indulged myself and got to sit here and share kisses for a while?"
She had shown no sign of the hesitation he felt, to be careful. She wasn't evasive about wanting to be close with him. It was a... blunt approach, but not one he wouldn't appreciate. It was hard enough to believe on its own... and still that odd warmth at her consideration curled in him.
He nodded, but she didn't move. After a beat, she raised her eyebrows, a challenge.
Oh. A heartbeat and then his fingertips found her cheek, sliding over the soft skin of her jaw, towards her ear. His thumb stroked the corner of her eye, tracing her features down. Breathtaking.
Slowly, he leaned in, and kissed her softly. It was as tentative and chaste as before, but Belle responded eagerly, and soon the tension had left his jaw. He had never felt so floored by someone's kiss, and yet he felt so right.
As she kissed him, her fingers tugging on his hair, he found himself angling his head to her touch. Kiss after kiss... he ended up leaning and leaning until he ended up on his back, that lovely librarian on top of him.
Head swimming and breathless, he wonderingly looked up at her, pupils blown and lips tender. His thoughts flitted, wondering if this was what it was like to be touched by an angel. He banished the thought as quickly, the notion ridiculously romantic.
She was smiling softly down at him, appearing no less disheveled than him, but utterly contented. "Hi."
"Hello." he croaked.
She shifted above him - their legs had ended up one after the other, but with a little nudging she tended up between his. He felt flush with the realization alone, though he understood soon that she was trying to be careful with him, nervous of straddling his bad leg.
"This okay? I'm not hurting you?"
His heart flipped. This woman made him unfairly dizzy. "No. No, this is... good."
She leaned down, nuzzling their noses.
He got a sudden headache. It was the oddest thing, because for one moment felt like this was familiar, the deja-vu accompanied by a deep ache. Like he remembered her doing this, his hand grasping the hip of a heavy dress, fingers tracing the golden laces of a corset...
By the time he opened his eyes, the impression was completely forgotten and the headache gone. All he saw was her.
"Are..." he started and hesitated.
"Mm?"
"Well, I do not doubt your capabilities of defending yourself. I certainly hope you don't, uh... the position we find ourselves in. I hope you don't think I'm trying to be untoward, because I certainly would never ask of you-"
"I know." she interrupted gently, and her eyes gleamed. "And what if I want to do something untoward with you? Then what?"
He swallowed hard, and she laughed, kissing him softly. A soft kiss was still enough to drive even the idea of breathing from his lungs.
"Don't worry. Untoward is not what I would call it... but every tempting thought is tempered by consideration, with me. We'll share a pace."
-*-
Gold stood at the counter in his kitchen, just washing dishes. He felt the warm sun of the morning on his face, and felt more settled than he had in... a very long time. He heard the door and turned to face Belle, the smile on his face undoubtedly soft and revealing. For once, he didn't care. Backed by the sun, his skin, hair, and eyes were all lit and goldened into tones of honey and amber.
Belle stepped in and looked at him, and her lips parted slightly. She was stilled, almost frozen in... well, in a way he recognized, from the times it had happened to him.
His breath caught in disbelief. Belle being struck by him in the same way felt... absurd, impossible.
Shyly, he beckoned her closer with a couple of fingers. He wasn't sure she even saw the gesture, but she was reanimated, crossing the space. Her hands threaded through his hair and he was being kissed, and kissed in return, as warmly and-
Lovingly. That was the word. Kissed her as warmly and loving as he had ever kissed anyone, his arms circling her waist tenderly. This time, they both froze. His lips tingled and it spread down through his body, through his core, as it had many times before. The room was filled, suffocated, for a moment with the taste of magic.
He pulled his head back to look at her.
"Belle?" he asked breathlessly, a new cadence in his voice, and his mind expanded in each direction. The missing piece slotted into place.
"Rumplestiltskin." Belle breathed, incredulously, and she was utterly radiant. "Rumple!" she surged through the small distance between them and embraced him tightly.
He held her with as much intensity as he felt every memory returned. He breathed her in, familiar after those years. He held her fiercely for a long moment before she eased back a half-step. He cradled her cheek, looking down into the well-loved face of his dear wife. His mind flashed over each version he knew of Belle, his Belle.
"...What was it this time? Contentment?" she asked.
"Certainty? I don't know." he reveled in her warmth, in the pieces of himself and her settling into a real understanding. It was the memories of loving her first coming back all at once that allowed him to languish in her love like sunlight for a moment longer before the anger of being separated would come to him.
"But we did it, again." she almost sighed. He took her hand, stroking a thumb over her palm, admiring each small scar that he knew the story of.
He kissed the center of her palm. "Don't you always manage it, my little heroine?"
She laughed softly, and looking at him, her expression tendered. "We always do it. Both of us."
"Do we?"
"Yes. We always come back to this moment." Belle tucked his hair back behind his ear. "There's no version of me that would never want to love that version of you."
He leaned into her hand and for a moment he didn't want to get up from it, sink into her touch and her love, and let the world pass by, to be done with the rest of it. "Belle..."
"Who did it this time, Rumple?"
"I don't know that either." he forced himself to let go of her hand, to stand up a bit straighter. "Trust me, when I find out who tried to take you away from me again-"
"I know." she touched his hip, drawing him back close. "...It is, however, six in the morning. Can we go back to bed first?"
He laughed. Smitten, utterly smitten. He lifted a hand, quickly barring the front door with wards. Belle made no comment but started tugging him back towards their room, in spite of the very real possibility of one of the heroes showing up at his door demanding answers within a few hours.
His heart felt too full to allow anger and worry, just yet. "Belle..."
"You always say my name like it's the same as 'I love you.'" she remarked with amusement. Gods above, he had missed that smile.
Both of their minds back to even with all their parts returned, Rumple let his darling wife tug him back for what he already knew would be the best rest he’s had in a long time. All because of her.