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Belle shivered and rubbed her hands against her arms as she looked out the library window. The rain was coming down in torrents and showed no signs of stopping. Belle sighed, she hadn't expected rain today and therefore had neglected a umbrella or a raincoat. In fact, the seventy degree weather that morning had caused her to don one of her light summer dresses.
She was seriously regretting not checking the weather before she left her apartment a couple blocks away.
Belle straightened herself and stepped outside into the night, street lamps illuminating the wet pavement and the nearly flooded gutters.
After locking the doors, she stood under the outcropping above the library door and glared at the storm. She just had to muster up enough courage to step out into the downpour.
"Ms. French?"
She turned and her eyes widened.
A sleek Cadillac had pulled up and Mr. Gold, the town pariah, had unrolled his window. He was poking his head out of the side of his car and raising his eyebrow questioningly.
She gaped.
He asked cautiously, "Do you need a ride?"
Belle nodded mutely.
He pulled back into the car and a second later, he was making his way toward her limping heavily and holding a large umbrella. Belle couldn't really seem to be processing what was happening.
She soon found herself in the seat next to the 'Crocodile' (as the local and strangely stereotypical drunken sailor Killian Jones called him). For the first few minutes of the strange drive, after Belle awkwardly told him her address, they sat in a long silence that had Belle fidgeting nervously and glancing at her 'rescuer' surreptitiously.
She'd never seen Mr. Gold up close, more as a nervous side glance as she hurried faster up the sidewalk in the hopes that he wouldn't stop to 'discuss' the rent with her.
He never did.
He was small, but still about an inch taller than her with long graying brown hair. He wore a fine black tailored suit and a stark red tie. Belle could even see his infamous cane with the 'solid' gold handle laying in the backseat. The gossip around Storybrooke had been that he'd once beat a man within an inch of his life with that cane and then bought his way out of jail.
She shivered and looked out the window, watching the droplets slowly slide down the cold glass instead of staring at the (monstrous?) man beside her. He certainly didn't seem very much like a beast, but with the way Leroy described him as he ate lasagna at Granny's diner, he should've at least looked the part.
"Are you cold, Ms. French?"
She bit her lip before replying, "Just a little."
The heat was turned up and the silence continued to be deafening.
The man's fingers were white as he clutched the wheel and spoke, attempting to start a conversation to break the awkward silence, "Have you ever read Heroes and Villains, Ms. French?"
Belle blinked at him, she hadn't expected him to be much of a fantasy reader, "Yes, I have. I didn't know you were a fan of the books."
"I'm not really, my son... My son Baelfire read them and he was wild about them for years. I just read the series to see what he was talking about."
He had a son?
She clasped her hands, "Well, who is your favorite character?"
His brow furrowed, "Nobody really. They're all dunderheads."
Belle suppressed a giggle. The man was right, it wasn't a very well written book series. Still, it had gained a mass of followers who wanted to see the villains get happy endings. It was an interesting concept though. Belle smiled,"I still like OperationMongoose's fanfiction 'Once Upon a Time' better."
Mr. Gold turned a corner and gave her a glance, "You read that too?"
She nodded, "It's rare that fanfiction ever hits the newspapers. I had to read it. I heard the author of the actual series was furious that some fanfiction writer wrote a better book than he did- while using his characters!"
Mr. Gold nodded, "It was better than the actual writer's trash."
Belle smiled, "Sometimes I wonder who OperationMongoose is, but then, it's better if its a mystery."
Gold shrugged, "I know who he is."
"Really?! Who?"
He smirked, "Oh, sorry, Dearie. Didn't you say it was better if it was left a mystery?"
Belle crossed her arms, "You are very sly, Mr. Gold. I just didn't expect to be able to ever know who wrote it! I still would like to know who he is!"
"He's sixteen years old."
Belle laughed, "A high schooler wrote a five million word book that was better than the professional author?"
Mr. Gold nodded, "It's easy to believe if you know him. Any son of Bae's is smart as a whip."
"Wait, Mr. Gold, you said that this Baelfire was your son-"
Mr Gold beamed proudly, like someone who was finally able to reveal a delightful secret, "Young Henry Cassidy is OperationMongoose, and he is my grandson."
Belle sat there in stunned silence for a moment, her brain whirling as she connected dots and processed information. She was a little aware that they had stopped moving just a little while ago, right outside her house.
"Wait, but Henry's father is Neal Cassidy-"
Mr. Gold's face fell, "Well, he doesn't really like... Being known as Gold. Not... Not that I blame him or anything."
Belle was inexplicably sympathetic, "Well, I'm sure you're very proud of your grandson."
He grinned sheepishly, "Aye, he's very smart. It's good to have an author in the family."
Belle smiled, "Thank you for the ride, Mr. Gold."
"Your welcome, Ms. French."
Belle was suddenly very sure that Mr. Gold wasn't nearly as vicious as the townsfolk made him out to be. Or at least, there was a man buried there underneath his freighting countenance. That was what caused her response, "Belle, please."
Mr. Gold looked surprised.
She got out of the car and paused with the door still open, before she turned back and said, "If you don't mind, but perhaps... Perhaps we could do this again? It's a long walk from the library."
"Absolutely, Ms. Fren- Belle. It's no inconvenience."
She stepped out into the wet pavement and was grateful that the rain had paused for a short moment, "Goodnight, Mr. Gold!"
She was rewarded with a soft, sheepish, and endearing smile that warmed her to the core.