#rcij 2020

[mariequitecontrarie]

Tickled

A Rumbelle Dark Castle Fic

Summary: When Belle first hears Rumplestiltskin laugh, she’s determined to make it happen again. A/N: My @rumbellechristmasinjuly present for @silwenworld. I’m so sorry this is late, friend. I tried to weave some references in to Polish culture and hope it makes you smile. This fic is basically two Dark Castle Dorks squabbling like old marrieds.   On AO3

Rumplestiltskin laughed. It wasn't his usual twittering giggle or the short, falsetto snicker reserved for particularly irritating nobles who called upon his power. It was a low, rumbling laugh, deep and genuine. His sides shook and his eyes crinkled at the corners, the lines fanning out almost to his temples. Even the crimped mop of hair on his head quivered with amusement. As soon as Belle heard it, she wanted to make it happen again. The sound was so surprising that she almost dropped the heavy basket filled with bread balanced on her hip. She slid the rolls and baguettes to safety onto the kitchen counter and spun around to give him her full attention, waiting for more. But the laughter was gone, the sparkle in his gaze shuttered, and all traces of mirth wiped from his expression. And though the atmosphere in the kitchen had shifted, she couldn’t let the moment go by unmentioned.

“You laughed,” she said, astonished at the generous, happy sound. She could almost hear its faint, deep echo in the kitchen rafters.

“Stop gaping at me, woman, I did nothing of the sort.”

“Deny it all you like,” she said with a growing smile. “But I heard it.”

Rumplestiltskin affected a dramatic pose and waved his arms in his signature flourish. “I laugh all the time,” he said and punctuated the words with a maddening giggle. “You’ve never commented on it before.”

Belle crossed her arms. This had been different and they’d both known it. The panicked glaze in his eyes was proof enough. “You laugh in mockery or to protect yourself. Just now you sounded happy. Joyful.”

“What an impertinent caretaker you are.” He wagged a finger at her. “Did you trouble your father this much when you lived in his household? No, don’t bother answering. The hairs on my head are turning white even as we speak.”

Belle rolled her eyes. Rumplestiltskin was immortal and although he was somewhere in the neighborhood of 300 years old, he didn’t have a single grey hair that Belle could find. Besides, any grey hair he’d earned came long before her arrival.

“Always changing the subject.” She rewarded his discomfiture with a sassy grin, then sashayed to the other side of the kitchen behind the large island, putting a safe distance between them. Alongside her delight and triumph at hearing his laughter, there was a strange, unfamiliar sense of warmth overtaking her. Smoothing the skirt of her dress with damp palms, she watched a spider methodically weave its web into the corner of the kitchen wall while she thought up a task to soothe her jitters. She wasn’t sure why, but the sound of Rumplestiltskin’s laughter had made her pulse skitter and her breath quicken. And when he’d stood close, his breath fanning her face as he laughed, the sweet aroma of magic and straw had overwhelmed the yeasty fragrance of bread.

Closing her eyes, she tried to commit the sound to memory. A shiver chased up her spine. His laughter had been intoxicating. Primal and full of life.

Shaking herself out of her daydream, Belle opened her eyes. The nearness of her employer didn’t typically affect her this way. At any rate, dinner and dessert wouldn’t make themselves, so she needed to get back to work. She squatted down to peruse the cookbooks on the shelves beneath the countertops, searching out one filled with cake recipes. Something with peaches would do nicely. The village bakery usually delivered cakes for Rumplestilsktin’s tea with the bread, but today they were out. It was her own fault; the riveting story she’d been reading yesterday had so engrossed her that she forgot to place the usual order. Thankfully there was always plenty of bread.

Burned cakes, Rumplestiltskin often said, were tolerable. Burned bread, however, was an abomination.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh!” She stood up too quickly and narrowly escaped banging her head on the underside of the counter.

His voice had floated as though he was standing right behind her, but he was clear across the room, a wicked grin plastered across his face. One leather-clad hip leaned indolently against the molding of the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.

She hated it when he tossed his voice. “Rumplestiltskin!” She stomped her foot. “Don’t you have a potion to mix or a nobleman to vex?” Raising an eyebrow, he snapped his fingers. A bialy from the top of the breadbasket floated across the kitchen island and into his outstretched hand. “What a peculiar little thing you are,” he said. And before she could respond, he disappeared in a poof of red smoke.

Belle peeked around the corners and opened the pantry door just in case he was still hiding. No sign of him. Her sigh of relief met the cool kitchen air in a puff of steam. Alone at last, she put the kettle on to boil water for tea.

Ordinarily, Rumplestiltskin’s grand exits were frustrating—most people couldn’t poof in and out of rooms and realms at will. He also had a distressing penchant for disappearing in the middle of an argument, and often right before she was going to make a point. Yelling into an empty room was both embarrassing and disconcerting. Today, however, his presence was an unwelcome distraction.

She needed a plan.

Something had amused him enough to inspire the most wonderful laughter she had ever heard, and Belle was determined to discover what it was. The kettle whistled and while she prepared some black orange peel tea, she mulled over the possible events that had led to his laughter. When the sweetness of oranges perfumed the room, she brought her cookbook and tea to the worktable and sat down on her usual stool.

They’d been here together in the kitchen. He was pilfering a sweet snack, and she was accepting the bread delivery from the bakery. When she sidled by him with the bread basket, he laughed like he was hearing the finest tale in half a century.

Most people considered him a monster and would sooner relegate him to the pit of hell than care about what could possibly amuse the Dark One. But after almost a year of living at the Dark Castle in his service, Belle knew there was more to Rumplestiltskin than he revealed to the world.

Hadn’t he gifted her with a beautiful room overlooking the castle gardens and outfitted her with lovely and comfortable clothes in every shade of her favorite color blue? He encouraged her to correspond with her father and even allowed her to visit with a friend a time or two. He fussed over her when she worked too much and tucked her into bed with soup and tea when she was ill. And then there was the sumptuous tower library built just for her. It was her room alone and no one else was allowed inside without permission, he said. When he sought her out, the library and her bedroom were the two places he knocked and waited for her invitation before entering, even when the doors were wide open.  

Rumplestiltskin was a dangerous person—she wasn’t oblivious. But beneath his otherworldly exterior and mystical trappings lurked a sad, melancholy man who had lost his son and faced more than two centuries of loneliness. From the scant handful of stories he had willingly shared, she knew the life he’d had before he met the darkness had been years of rejection and ridicule. Life, she suspected, had offered him precious few reasons to laugh.

While a future as an indentured servant wasn’t the life she would have chosen for herself, living with Rumplestiltskin wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, if she were forced to choose between Rumple and her father, it would be a hard choice to make. Besides, she was here and she had promised to stay forever. It gave her a sense of purpose to care for someone other than herself. Perhaps if she could offer him more reasons to laugh he wouldn’t be so distant, so angry. Maybe he wouldn’t always choose to hide behind a mask. Now, how could she get Rumplestiltskin to laugh again?

A commotion from the ornate cuckoo clock spurred her to action. With only two hours until supper, she needed to hurry. Off to the pantry she went in search of the flour and sugar for the cake.

xoxo After the supper dishes were cleared away, Belle watched carefully from her perch on the settee as Rumple picked up a slice of her freshly baked babka and sniffed. “It’s Wednesday. I thought there would be peach tarts.” The remark drifted down the long table in the center of the great hall, his tone carrying a hint of accusation. She decided against telling him she’d botched the bakery order. “There are peach preserves in this,” she said, hoping to mollify him. “And I made it myself.” Shrugging, he gulped the slice of cake in two bites. “Not the worst I’ve eaten.” Belle hid a smile. Coming from Rumplestiltskin, that was a compliment. He slurped sugar-laced tea from the cup she’d chipped on her first day of service in the castle and ate three more pieces of pastry from the tray. Belle edged forward in her seat, knocking a pillow to the floor when she shifted. Now perhaps he would laugh again. But although he hummed his appreciation for the food, there was no laughter. Disappointed, she scooped up the fallen pillow and hugged it to her middle. Perhaps she should have slipped up to his laboratory and taken some laughing potion to stir into the recipe. Surely such a thing existed. “Aren’t you having any?” he asked, then filled her cup with tea without waiting for an answer. He set two slices of cake on a plate and walked the length of the room to deliver them. When she accepted the plate, their sleeves brushed at the wrist. He backed away as though her clothes were on fire. Belle chewed her lip. It wasn’t like him to be so skittish. “Do I have germs or something?” “No more than usual.” His gaze shifted to the discarded novel on the floor and he settled in the wingback chair opposite the settee. He steepled his fingers. “You’re quiet today. What ails you? Plotting my demise?” “Nothing ails me.” She mustered her sweetest smile. “Everything is fine.” “Indeed?” He harrumphed. “Take a bite of your cake so I know you’ve not a mind to poison me.” “You’ve already eaten five pieces and you’re no worse for wear,” she pointed out, but she bit into the sweet cinnamon-laced confection to appease him anyway. It was good. She congratulated herself on her most successful baking venture thus far, since it seemed no one else was going to. “Touché,” he grunted. “Keep eating, please, so you don’t waste away and force me to send you home to your papa as a bag of bones. You barely touched your supper.” It was true she hadn’t had much appetite. She had been too busy watching him and wondering how she could inspire more of this afternoon’s beautiful laughter. She sank her teeth into a massive bite of cake and lifted her chin. “Why Rumplestiltskin,” she said after swallowing, “I didn’t know you cared.” He left the table in another poof of smoke and maniacal laughter. Not quite the reaction she was hoping for, but she could be stubborn as well. The game had only begun. xoxo

Over the next few weeks, Belle tried every technique she could think of to amuse Rumplestiltskin. Jokes, stories, a feather duster to tickle his sharp nose. She even traipsed through the great hall while he was spinning with a basket overflowing with bread, the same as she did the day she first heard his laughter. Jogging his memory of that day in the kitchen would surely work. But she was so focused on his reaction that she tripped over her own feet and dumped the basket on the floor. Rolls flew in every direction--onto the carpet, into the fire, and under the display cabinets filled with treasures from other lands. One piece of bread even landed on her head.

No reaction from Rumplestiltskin. Not even a snigger at Belle's expense.

Sweeping up the mess took so long she got a cramp in her shoulder. The crumbs tangled in her hair had to be washed out. At least there would be plenty of stale crusts to feed the birds.

Turning to the vast Dark Castle library, she scoured the dust-choked shelves for entertaining comedies. Without question, one of these was bound to make Rumplestiltskin laugh uproariously. Each evening for a week she read to Rumplestiltskin by the light of the fire, producing book after book until her fingers had papercuts and even she wanted a break from words. She’d even gone so far as to translate the work of a Polish author from The Land Without Magic by the name of Elżbieta Cherezińska.

Rumplestiltskin had snorted a time or two and the ghost of a smile crossed his lips, but he didn’t laugh at a single story. On the seventh evening of reading, he ordered Belle to her bedroom with a pot of hot tea and a dram of whiskey to soothe her raw throat.

“That’s the fifth time you’ve coughed in an hour and your voice is starting to resemble a giant,” he’d said.

Too bewildered by being packed off to bed with Rumplestiltskin clucking at her like a mother hen, it didn’t occur to Belle to be insulted. Next, she tried concocting a potion for laughing. Yes, she should have tried this on the first day, she’d thought as the burgundy syrup bubbled on the stove. Magic helped Rumplestiltskin achieve his ends and there was no reason it couldn’t work for her. If only she hadn’t gone into the laundry room to wash Rumplestiltskin’s aprons. But she had, forgetting that the contents of the spell required complete concentration. Most of the potion boiled over leaving her without a key ingredient—whitehaven petal—and it wouldn’t become available again until the summer. Chagrined, Belle looked between the mess on the stove and the snowdrifts blowing against the window. Four months was too long to wait.

Hoping for the best, she scraped some of the sticky gooey liquid off the counter and stirred it into Rumple’s lunch.

Once consumed, his platter of beef and rice cabbage rolls produced so many ridiculous high-pitched giggles that Belle wanted to throw a five-armed candelabra at his head.

Hardly the sort of laughter Belle had been hoping to hear.

After a month of trying and failing, Belle was growing impatient. How many harebrained schemes could one caretaker enact for the sake of a simple laugh? Rumplestiltskin was not only unfazed by her efforts he seemed blithely unaware of them.

For someone so fond of claiming he wasn’t a man, he was terribly dense. Belle began to despair. If she ever hoped to hear his beautiful, rumbling laughter again, drastic measures were required.

xoxo

“Go on,” Belle urged, pushing open the heavy door to the great hall. The shaggy grey puppy scampered over to the square dais where Rumplestiltskin was spinning and whimpered a greeting. He dragged some golden stalks of straw onto the carpet covering the platform and began to chew. Belle hovered in the foyer, watching and listening. The young Polish Lowland Sheepdog’s hair hung into his sweet brown eyes and he had the sweetest little pink tongue Belle had ever seen on a dog. Even Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t be able to resist laughing at such a lively, intelligent ball of fluff.

Or so she thought. Absorbed by his spinning, a full ten minutes went by before Rumplestiltskin deigned to notice his new companion.

“Belle,” he called without looking away from the wheel, “some vile little creature has wandered into the hall. Come dispose of it.”

She burst into the hall and inserted herself between Rumplestiltskin and the puppy before he had the notion to transform the poor animal into a less-than-pleasant creature, like a skunk or a beetle. It seemed to be the fate of most who displeased the Dark One.

Belle’s skirts swished against Rumplestiltskin’s thigh as she elbowed her way into his space.

He rocked back on the three-legged stool’s hind leg, his feet in the air. Gripping the creaking wheel for support, he rebalanced, his boots hitting the dais with a decided thump.

“Don’t topple me in your excitement, woman. It’s only a dog.” The words were crisp, dismissive. He wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t even smiling. The twist of his lips was sour, his eyelids drooped in boredom. “I have work to do.” He glanced pointedly at the dust-covered shelves in the hall. “As do you.”

Belle shuffled backward, putting space between them, taking care not to pitch backward off the dais. He righted the stool and returned to spinning, but not before she noticed a slight tremble of his fingers.

Such large, strong capable-looking hands he had, those long, elegant fingers tapering into short black claws. Artist’s hands.

Heat filled her face while a lightning-quick shiver danced up her spine, and Belle quickly turned her attention to the puppy with an adoring coo. “Isn’t he darling? His name is Kacper. ”

At the sound of his name, Kacper barked his approval and stretched his scruffy neck, angling to be pet. Belle bent low to oblige, stroking his back and scratching his ears.

“Darling.” Rumplestiltskin’s sniff was aloof. “Not the word I would use.”

“And why not?” She straightened and brushed straw off her skirt. “What’s wrong with him?”

Together they watched the dog drag more bright yellow pieces of straw off the platform and onto the floor. After a minute of chewing and jumping in the little pile, he climbed into Rumplestiltkin’s gold-laden basket and fell asleep.

“There’s straw everywhere,” he complained. “You’ll go to the village to replace it, too. By sundown tomorrow.”

“Yes, master.” She dipped a saucy curtsy.

The wheel came to a squeaking halt and Rumplestiltskin’s eyes flashed, warning Belle she was treading on dangerous ground. “Where did this hell dog come from anyway?”

“He was in the side yard chasing butterflies while I was hanging sheets on the line.” The memory of the butterfly landing on the pup’s nose while he barked and pawed at them made her giggle.

As usual, she was the only one laughing.

“Most likely a trap sent by one of my enemies,” he mused. “Perhaps Maleficent or King George.” He frowned as he reached around the puppy for more straw into the wheel. “Too tame to be Regina. Subtlety isn’t that one’s strong suit.”

The dog snuggled deeper into the basket and let out a whiffling snore. “Yes, he looks absolutely terrifying,” Belle supplied. “Ha! This from the one who lectures everyone who will listen about judging a book by its cover.” Sarcasm hung in the air like thunderclouds before a storm. “If you recall, dearie, the last time you found a beast in the yard, it was one of those devil hounds Cruella de Vil is so fond of. Like a fool, you followed it. And like an even bigger fool, I found myself bargaining for your life at midnight on Demon’s Bluff.”

Belle chewed her lip. He wasn’t wrong. The dalmatian puppy she followed had been sweet, but as judgments went, it hadn’t been her finest hour. “I did thank you profusely for saving me. What did you need that ridiculous magic gauntlet for, anyway?”

“We’ll never know now, will we?” He pouted.

“Come now,” she said, trying to tease him out of his rising temper. Thus far, the puppy was proving to be her worst idea yet for making Rumplestiltskin laugh. All she wanted at this point was a bit of credit for trying. “Why not admit you would be lost without me?”

“Indeed.” The stool pushed back with an angry scrape and he shot to his feet, stalking out from behind the spinning wheel. “Where in all the realms would I find a housekeeper who reads all the day, allows the kettle to run dry whilst I wait hours for my tea, and creates more messes than she cleans?”

A slap across the face couldn’t have hurt worse. Every failing he’d listed was true. No, she wasn’t the best caretaker, but what she lacked in capability and efficiency she tried to make up for in spontaneity and heart. She cared about him, the cantankerous bastard, which was more than could be said of most people. It was sobering to realize she cared so deeply for someone who seemed to think so little of her.

Stung by the criticism, she approached the platform and bent down to scoop up the sleeping pup.

Rumplestiltskin stepped down off the platform. They stood in the middle of the hall glowering at each other, she cradling the slumbering dog, and he rubbing nothingness between his fingers. The picture of awkwardness and pent-up frustration.

Why, she wondered, searching his cold, closed-off face, was she so determined to amuse a man who was so determined not to laugh? Was it a game? A challenge? Her stubborn nature? Belle didn’t know the answer, but she was fed up with trying.

There was no doubt in her mind now--he was purposely withholding his laughter for no other reason than meanness.

Tears threatened, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of breaking down. “If that’s the way you feel,” she said.

“Aye, that’s the way I feel.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Sounding as exasperated as she felt, he threw up his hands. Startled, Belle stumbled, the slight weight of the puppy overbalancing her. She tipped forward, falling headlong into Rumplestiltskin.

Forgetting about the sleeping puppy in her arms, she grabbed Rumplestiltskin around the waist, her fingers scrabbling for purchase, her head bumping against his chest.

With the first touch of her hands, he started to laugh. A great, guffawing, booming laugh so deep and loud it shook the rafters of the Dark Castle.

He caught her with one arm, the puppy with the other, pulling her up and drawing her close so they were pressed together from chest to toe. Her hands bracketed his waist, his leather and silk clothing soft and supple against her palms.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, the mystery finally solved. “You’re ticklish.”

“Rubbish,” he scoffed. “I’m simply giving in to your considerable efforts.”

“You can’t fabricate true, honest laughter,” she said.

To prove it, she wiggled her fingers against his sides once more. She was rewarded with more genuine laughter. Not a single trill or exaggerated snicker in earshot. To her amazement, the puppy slept through all the commotion, curled snug inside Rumplestitskin’s vest.

Who knew that one clumsy move was all it took to make him laugh again? Belle was so happy she could have twirled pirouettes the length of the great hall. But that would have required letting go of Rumplestiltskin. And she wasn’t doing that anytime soon.

She splayed her hands over his waist, and as she explored the contours of his torso she found his belly wonderfully soft and rounded beneath her fingers. He laughed again, his sides jiggling, and the sweet depth of it drew her deeper until she was swimming in the warmth of the sound.

Closing her eyes, she brushed the backs of her fingers along his hip, savoring each ripple of laughter and vibration of his body. She could have touched and tickled and listened to him all day.

“Enough now, Belle.” His tone was rough, vocal cords gravely from overuse. Moving the puppy to rest in the hollow of his shoulder, he gripped her hands and clasped them between his. His grip was firm but not unkind, and those beautiful hands she had studied so often were warmer and softer than she imagined.

Something more than mere humor glinted in his eyes, a tension between them that pushed the boundaries of their current arrangement. Friendship, attraction. The air in the hall was thick with both. And Belle realized that through these silly antics, she had more than an employer in Rumplestiltskin. She had a friend.

“Are you still angry with me, Rumple?” she ventured.

Those dark, fathomless eyes widened a bit at the shortened use of his name, but he didn’t object to the nickname.

“Try as I might, I cannot stay angry with you.” His voice was husky, the sweet thread of laughter still weaving through it. There was no trace of his usual artifice or pageantry.

“So that day in the kitchen?” she prompted, filled with wonder at all of today’s surprises and revelations.

“Aye, it was your touch that made me laugh.” He ducked his head, trying and failing to hide his reddened cheeks behind his shaggy curtain of hair. “ When you were lugging that basket of bread against your hip, you brushed against my waist. It was so innocent and you had no idea you’d done it. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be tickled and to laugh. I haven’t really laughed since…”

“Your son.” He was still holding her hands between his and she loosened his fingers to brush her thumb against the back of his hand. “I’m so sorry, Rumple. I never meant to dredge up a painful memory, to cause you hurt.”

“You didn’t. You made me laugh, Belle. You. Not fancy cakes or translating outlandish books or this little beast.” He patted Kacper’s head. “You brought light and kindness and laughter into this dull, dark place.”

“All that time I spent trying to figure out what would make you laugh.” Bells shook her head at herself. “Those crazy schemes. I felt like…”

“Me?”

Now it was her turn to laugh. Rumplestiltskin was nothing if not persistent. And he certainly excelled at patience. “A little,” she admitted. “But it was worth it.”

“Don’t you dare tell anyone about this,” he warned.

“Or what?” She blinked at him. “You’ll turn me into a toad?”

“Becoming predictable, am I?” He sneered, but it was without malice.

“You? Never.”

Releasing her hands, he stepped back onto the platform and settled down behind the spinning wheel. He carefully removed the dog from his shoulder and placed him into the basket of straw. “Kacper can stay here. For now. But you’ll need to find him a bed. This beastie can’t disrupt my work forever.”

“I understand, Rumplestiltskin.”

“Hmmm.” He began to spin and Belle watched for a moment as he easily slipped into that faraway place where he created and made plans, losing himself in the cadence of the wheel. “I’ll take my tea now.”

The words were said so softly, she heard them more in her mind than from his lips.

“Right away, Rumplestiltskin,” she whispered.

The faint smile on his face was the only indication that he’d heard her assent.

As she ambled down the corridor toward the kitchen feeling lighter than she had in weeks, the faint rumble of laughter drifted along with her. Belle wrapped her arms around herself to embrace the sound, her lips spreading in a smile of pure happiness. It was a beginning.

###

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rumbelle christmas in july #rcij 2020 #dark castle rumbelle #tickling #silwenworld #mqc writes

[ryik-the-writer]

For @celticheartedfangirl​, Happy Christmas in July

This prompt was a treat, even if I”m extremely behind

Plot: Belle and Rumplestiltskin go on a trip to retrieve an object from a vengeful ice queen, only to end up in a snowstorm.

A03

                                                      -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Since Belle had made her deal to go with him forever, Rumplestiltskin’s life had gotten much more…chaotic.

He had never intended to bring Belle along on his many quests and adventures…hell he hadn’t known what to do with her after making that deal!

But after the Robin Hood incident, he had an anchoring to keep her near.

Not because he liked her! No, of course not…

Their latest adventure involved bringing Belle to a town frozen in time where a very angry snow queen had cursed them all.

Of course, he hadn’t let on right away what they were doing, thus she had no way of knowing that the ice sculptures she was ogling at were indeed human.

“They’re beautiful,” Belle cooed, pushing the heavy bag she had packed behind her so she could view each one. “How cute, a dog!”

Rumplestiltskin withheld a mischievous grin. Poor girl would faint if she knew the truth!

Then, she had found the remains of an icy lake, solid and tempting.

Her smile had been bright enough to melt the whole town.

“I haven’t been ice-skating since I was a little girl,” she grinned as she changed her shoes.

Rumplestiltskin huffed. “I don’t believe we have—”

Belle shot off before he could finish, causing Rumple’s heart to jump when she stumbled across the ice, struggling for stable ground.

In a flash, Rumplestiltskin magicked to her side, steadying her.

“It’s…it’s been a while,” Belle chuckled as her lets finally stopped shaking.

“Obviously,” he said, trying to hide his concern.

She didn’t let go of his hand, instead pulling him along with her as she set off again.

He used magic to keep him from sliding ungracefully, but he couldn’t quite contain his surprise at her eagerness to be with him.

She looked back at him, grinning ear to ear, admitting her gratefulness that he let her come along without a single word.

Rumplestiltskin couldn’t contain a smile back. She really was a lovely girl. Such a shame he could never tell her…

After a moment she led him back to the bank of the pond, skidding them both to a stop.

After catching her breath, she brushed a strand from her face and skipped his way, hands crossed behind her back.

“You didn’t bring me here just for the brilliant ice sculpting,” she teased. “What’s on today’s agenda?”

Rumplestiltskin smiled with mischief. “Visiting an old friend.”

Belle gave him a look. “By friend, you mean sworn enemy, right?”

Rumplestiltskin giggled. “We…have history.”

Belle hummed, rubbing her hands together and shivering. “Don’t suppose we could visit a pub for a hot cider before we visit your sworn enemy?”

Rumplestiltskin helped her to her feet. “Plenty of time for that later, now come! We should reach her palace by nightfall! We’ll need to be back at the castle by the morning for our appointment with the Hatter.”

Belle sighed as he began to walk on without her. Back to arm’s length, it would seem.

She adjusted her bag on her shoulders, striving to catch up to him as she paused in front of another ice sculpture.

This one seemed to be a mother holding their child to them closely, as if she were shielding them both from some unknown terror.

Belle gulped, looking at the others she had noticed earlier. They were all facing the same direction, fleeing from something.

“Belle?”

Belle hesitantly followed her employer, glancing around uneasily but thankful she couldn’t see the expressions on the sculptures faces.

It would seem the artist of these pieces had a twisted sense of humor, and something told her the Dark One knew more than he was letting on.

                                                  -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Belle nearly went blind at the site of the ice palace, the structure made from the whitest ice she’d ever seen.

She let Rumplestiltskin lead them in and she almost didn’t see the woman at the far end of the room stand to greet them.

“Rumplestiltskin,” the woman greeted evenly, and after blinking a few times Belle could make out the piecing blue of her eyes.

The Dark One stopped, causing Belle to nearly collide into him. She frowned as he bowed mockingly to the woman.

“You majesty,” he giggled. “You are the queen now, yes?”

“Watch it!” the woman seethed, stepping down from her pyramid of ice blocks to stand a few feet from him. “What do you want?”

“I want what you took from me,” Rumplestiltksin growled. “I want it back.”

“She is mine!” The Ice Queen seethed.

“The urn is my property, which makes the woman in it mine as well!”

Belle gasped. They were after a woman? A trapped woman?

The queen glared at him, the look making Belle shake from something much more deadly than the cold.

Suddenly, her eyes shot to Belle, and a sharp, queer smile spread across her face.

“And who is this?”

Rumplestiltskin stepped in front of Belle, shielding her from the hate-filled eyes.

“None of your concern,” he spat. “Now give me what I want.”

The Ice Queen’s smile seemed frozen in place, as if she could had turned into one of the ice sculptures in the village…

Wait…

Belle glanced around and noticed that there were dozens more. Some dressed like servants, carrying trays and flowers, like they had been active in their daily tasks…

And some of them looked like they were fleeing.

Belle’s heart stopped.

They had been.

“They’re alive…they were alive…” she gasped. “They’re people…”

Rumplestiltskin glanced back at her, swallowing a bit.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Belle seethed, but Rumplestiltskin shot around quickly.

“He’s one for surprises dear,” the Ice Queen said. “And treachery—“

“Enough,” Rumplestiltskin spat. “Give me what I came here for.”

“Very well, Dark One,” the Ice Queen agreed coolly. She waved her hand and a golden urn appeared in her hand.

“I’ll give you back your property,” she said, staring at the object with an odd sort of fondness.

And then to Belle with pure malice.

“But in exchange, I’m taking your little friend to add to my collection.”

In a flash, a white burst of magic shot from her hand, threating to collide with Belle.

Rumplestiltskin reacted before she could and shot around grabbed her, pulling her into his chest.

The magic hit him square in his back, causing a weak cry to leave his lungs as he fell to his knees.

Belle struggled to hold him up as she screamed, a patch of ice spreading quickly across his back.

“No, what…what’s going on?” She cried as she fell to her knees with him.

He convulsed violently, the darkness in him fighting off whatever spell she had thrown at him, but he could feel is slipping quickly into his darkened heart.

He squeezed Belle’s arm, the warmth of her skin the one thing that kept him from falling completely victim to the curse.

The Ice Queen cackled behind him and Rumplestiltskin gnashed his teeth in defiance.

“Not so high and mighty now, are you?” she cooed.

Belle glared at her, but before she could shout at the vile woman Rumplestiltskin wrapped his arms around her waist and magicked them out of the Ice Queen’s lair.

                                                      -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 They broke apart as soon as they soon as Rumplestiltskin magicked them to the mountain’s side. They were free of the wretched queen, but her icy environment was waiting for them, swallowing them in a heated coldness no one could imagine.

It fell’s like she land on hot needles, piercing every nerve in her body without ever breaking the skin.

She finally thought, her body adjusting to the pain as her brain tried to focus on her surroundings.

“R-r-rumple!” she called out, the angry winds blocking out her voice.

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and drudged through the knee-deep snow, searching immediately for shelter of some sort.

If one thing from her childhood winters at Avonlea taught her it was that when caught in a storm, finding a heat source was the difference between freezing to death and living.

There was a cluster of rocks several yards from her, just visible thought the whirling ice. Her body was going numb already, but her sheer anger at Rumplestiltskin was keeping her going.

She knew he was dark, she’d accepted that, but she had also seen his more human side. She’d seen him show mercy and kindness to foes, so why couldn’t he extend such graces to the general public?

And then he just hid what was going on to her, after all they’d been through?

He was going to get it—

She gasped as she tripped over something hard. She gasped as she got a face full of hard snow and winced as she felt a bruise forming.

She growled and twisted around to see what had caused her fall and immediately recognized Rumpelstiltskin’s hard leather coat, his unflinching hand peeking out of the sleeve.

She struggled to crawl to his side and flip him onto his back.

“Rumple?” she yelled as she shook him. His eyes barely opened, staring hazily at her. She could feel him trembling even through the thick leather. Whatever the Snow Queen had done to him had made him very weak.

“Hey,” she said shaking him a bit. “What happened? What did she do?”

“Sp…spell…” he groaned so weakly Belle barely heard it.

She squinted around, estimating their distance from the rocks. She took a deep breath and began lift Rumplestiltskin up, slinging one of her shoulder as he groaned.

“We have to move,” she said. “Can you walk?”

She felt him faintly nod but got little effort out of him. She straightened her back and began pulling him in the direction of the rocks, praying a cave was clustered somewhere in the mess.

Rumplestiltskin was grumbling, his body going back and forth from heavy to light, signifying his inability to stay conscious.

Belle just pulled him tighter to her, dragging him with all her strength. She was losing steam fast but pure determination kept her going. That and keeping him alive so she could kick his arse later.

Thankfully there was an opening in the cave, and deep enough that it would shield them from the elements.

He began to come to again, his limbs twitching as he subconsciously tried to help her along.

Belle shushed him gently as she leaned him against the wall as she began to take off her overcoat and wrapped it around him.

“Hang on, okay?” she encouraged through chattering lips.

She felt along the walls of the cave, gliding one hand along the floor in search for wood or some kind of debris that could be burnt, but all she could find were a few sticks.

They needed warmth now or it wouldn’t be long until the both were goners.

She gathered what she could find a few feet in front of Rumple, frowning miserably.

She grabbed her bag and dumped its contents out, gulping when noted the only thing that could be used for a fire was her beloved copy of “Her Handsome Hero.”

The only thing she had from her dear, sweet mama.

Why did she think she’d have time to read on a mission?!

Rumplestiltskin made a quiet moan, easing in and out of an uncomfortable unconsciousness.

Neither one of them were going to last much longer at this rate. She was already getting so tired, hypothermia biting at her lips.

She looked at Rumple, her lips shaking, and not from the cold.

She lovingly placed her books on the ground, clashing to rocks together to get a spark going.

Hot tears slid down her cheeks as a spark caught onto one of the pages, so old from years of being passed down that the flames picked up instantly.

The warmth barely helped her feel accomplished, but the flames grew enough that they would have a moment of warmth before the chill set in once more.

She glanced at the Dark One in his fitful state, feeling a strange coldness fill her chest that she hadn’t felt since she first arrived at his castle.

“You did all this,” she whispered. “You brought us out here to face off with that awful woman, and now…” her lips began to shake as her grief began to overflow.

“And you kept it from me,” she sobbed. “You lied to me…even after everything we’ve been though.

Rumplestiltskin coughed, his eyes fluttering.

“…Belle?”

Belle moved around the small fire, easing to his side. She stared at him, trying to stay calm. He was injured after all, and she’d be on death’s door herself if he couldn’t magic them out.

“What’s happening to you?”

He struggled to sit up, a flickering blue light spreading over his chest.

“A spell,” he groaned, clutching his chest. “It freezes the target from the inside out…”

Belle tensed. “Are you—”

“No,” he chuckled weakly. “Such magic can’t kill the Dark One…” he gasped as another wave of cold threatened him. “No really. I’ll be fine…then I’ll get us out of here.”

Belle nodded, satisfied that he would be find.

But she was still angry.

“Did you know what she was doing to those people, what they were?”

“Belle…”

“Why didn’t you stop her!” Belle yelled. “You could have helped those people!”

“I’m not a hero Belle—”

“You don’t have to be a hero to do the right thing!”

Rumplestiltskin fell back, annoyance building through the pain.

“I don’t’ need to explain myself to you.”

Belle scoffed. “No I guess you don’t.” she moved away from him and began picking at the fire, trying to keep it lively with a few sticks.

He tried to remain calm, tried to focus all his energy and magic into fighting the damned curse that awful woman had cast on him.

But he was so cold. The spell wouldn’t kill him, but there was no doubt it would take days for it to wear off. The snow storm outside seemed to grow stronger, no doubt the Snow Queen’s doing to smite him out once and for all.

He glanced at Belle, frowning at her slouched shoulders. He didn’t like it when she was angry at him, but it was better to keep her at arm’s length.

He was a monster, she needed to realize that. It’d save her.

The heat from the small fire she had built had faded fast and the cave was freezing once more.

Belle rubbed her arms, her energy nearly depleted. She felt so tired, the frantic voice in the back of her mind screaming at her not to fall asleep.

Her mother’s book as a pile of smoky ash now and there was nothing left to burn.

She laid on her side, facing Rumple.

“I’m so tired,” she muttered, feeling her eyes grow heavy. Her body was so cold now she couldn’t even feel anything.

“Belle,” Rumplestiltskin muttered, turning his head, his heart racing when he saw she wasn’t moving.

“No, Belle!” he moaned, turning painfully on his side and crawling to her. “No, please don’t fall asleep!”

Belle moaned. “It’s okay…”

“No, Belle, look at me,” he reached out, taking hold of her chin. “Please stay awake. Yell at me, hit, just don’t fall asleep!”

She didn’t answer, and Rumple willed his magic to his limbs to give him more strength. He managed to sit up and pull Belle closer to him, her pulse a bare flutter under his fingers.

He snatched the coats she had laid on him off himself to cover her.

“Belle wake up…I’m sorry…I’m sorry for everything. For lying to you, to bringing you into this.” He mused her hair from her beautiful face, so peaceful.

“I just wanted to keep you safe.”

He leaned up to see the fire she attempted to build, recognizing the burnt paper flakes.

“Oh Belle, I’m so sorry,” he said as he rubbed at her arms over the jacket.

He recalled briefly — in another life —doing the same thing to keep his son warm.

In the very early mornings when the fire he’d set the night before had long gone out, his wee son would crawl into bed with him and they’d hold each other close until they warmed up.

The memory filled him with comfort and guilt, but also a very embarrassing idea.

With his magic doing its part, his skin had started to retain some of its warmth. If he and Belle were skin to skin…

He cringed at the thought. She’d be disgusted with him, but she wouldn’t be much of anything if she froze to death.

“Belle,” he whispered as his stiff fingers carefully began to open her shirt. “I’m going to try something I hope will save us both.” He averted his eyes from her pale skin as he undid his undershirt.

He reached out to tie their coats together, creating a sort of blanket for them.

As his heart pounded, he pulled Belle to his chest, his back against the storm, and entangled their legs, the heat between them slowly building.

“You’re going to be alright Belle,” he whispered into her hair, holding her close as he drifted into his own slumber.

                                                       -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Belle opened her eyes slowly, the cold that had soaked into her bones now gone. Her hand grazed upon something hard and textured, but not unpleasant to the touch.

It took her a moment to realize she was lying on someone, their legs tangled in a heated embrace.

It was quiet now, the storm now seized, and Belle could clearly make out the sound of the heartbeat pressed against her ear.

She eased back some, lifting her head to look at the sleeping face of her employer.

Her face further heated when she looked down to see their unclothed chests touching.

She croaked, sitting up to cover herself as their tied coats slid down to their waists.

Rumple stirred, opening his reptilian eyes. He tensed when he saw Belle staring at him, not necessarily in disgust but just in confusion.

“I…I um…” he stuttered, his body warmer than it’d been in over a day.

“You’re doing better,” she pointed out, not meeting his eyes. “The spell must have worn off.”

“Mostly, yes.” He concluded. “And it would seem as if we’re safe from the Snow Queen.”

“Good,” she nodded, looking around the calm cave until her eyes landed on their tied jackets.

“You saved us?”

The Dark One bristled, “I think you’re dehydrated.”

Belle smirked through her exhaustion. “Looks like you’ve got a bit of a hero in you after all.”

Rumplestiltskin groaned. “Very dehydrated.”

She shrugged. “I’m sure we can remedy that soon enough. Do you think you can get us out of here?”

Rumplestiltskin frowned. “I’m not sure. I used so much magic fighting off the curse.”

Belle nodded, glancing out the mouth of the cave into the snow. It was so beautiful after the storm, but the cold was still their worst enemy. Belle wasn’t sure if she was willing to strip down further tonight if they were out her another night.

Her heart leapt when she saw something – or someone – moving in the distance.

“Rumple,” Belle gasped. He was at her side in a second, glaring at the figure moving towards them.

“Is it the Snow Queen?”

“I don’t think so. Stay behind me.”

Belle did has he bade for his magic to return.

Whoever it was would be losing a large chunk of their necks if they tried to harm Belle.

The figure stepped in front of the cave, throwing back his hood with a bit too much flair.

Rumplestiltskin groaned. “Hatter.”

“Good to see you too!” Jefferson greeted.

“What are you doing here?”

Jefferson smirked. “You missed our appointment, and we got worried,” he pointed at Rumplestiltskin’s partially undone shirt. “But it looks liked it was for a good reason.”

The Dark One hissed and struggled to button his shirt while Belle eased to his side.

“We?”

Jefferson glanced back to reveal the mysterious Dr. Victor Frankenstein making his way up the steep mountain.

Belle gasped when she saw one of the ice sculptures – the dog – tied around his back.

“The next time you want to take a rendezvous, at least leave a note,” the doctor panted as he sat on a rock to rest.

“That’s not what happened!” Rumplestiltskin seethed.

Belle eased past him to greet Jefferson. “We’re both another hour away from hypothermia. Can you get us out of here?”

“Sure,” the hatter winked. “But I’ll have to make a couple of trips.”

                                                  -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Belle and Rumplestiltskin huddled closely by the fire, they’re bodies warmed to the appropriate temperature.

They had yet to speak to each other, mainly because the doctor and the hatter would not leave them alone for a single second.

After giving Belle a quick checkup (Rumplestiltskin had forbade him to touch him, much to the doctor’s disappointment) Dr. Frankenstein had to work examining the frozen dog he’d confiscated from Arendelle, trying to chip off some kind of sample but failing miserably.

“That thing better not melt on my table!” Rumplestiltskin shot at the doctor.

“Fear not, Dark One,” the doctor sighed tiredly. “Your baubles are safe.”

Rumplestiltskin growled and turned back to the fire, sparing a glance at Belle.

He wanted to tell her so much, to thank her and apologize and anything he could so she didn’t look so cold when she looked at him.

Jefferson was sitting at a chair at the great table, his attention back and forth between the Dark One and his maid and the doctor.

This was…different. He knew of course that the most powerful sorcerer in the land had a soft spot for the bookish, clumsy heroine, but he hadn’t realized it was this intense.

Since Belle had come to stay with Rumplestiltskin, his visits had become less about business and more about company. He loved the playful bickering they shared, loved that his business acquaintance actually seemed happy.

Jefferson was a helpless romantic, yes, and right now the light of his interest was threatening to fall into shambles.

“Belle…” Rumplestiltskin began quietly to avoid scandal from the two men in the room.

She glanced his way but remained quiet.

“Thank you for what you did for me…”

Belle nodded, sipping her tea wordlessly.

“And…I’m sorry,”

Belle paused, as did the two spectators behind them.

“I didn’t mean to put you in danger or to lie to you,” He said. “And I’m sorry about your book.”

Belle lowered her cup, grief threatening to crush her.

“It was my mother’s, and the first book she ever read to me.” Belle said.

Rumplestiltskin smiled lightly but noticed the way her eyes were glassing over.

“The day the ogres attacked my home, I went back to get it,” she said. “By the time I got back to mother, the ogres had come. And then…”

Belle gulped and wiped the tear from her eye. “I thought for so long that if I had just left it behind, we could have gotten out sooner and maybe she’d alive. But then it was all I had left of her, the only reminder I had that there are heroes in this world and maybe I could be one.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “She’d be so proud of you, Belle.”

Belle scoffed.

“No, she would,” he assured. “You saved me, and made a grand sacrifice to do it. If that’s not a hero, I can’t imagine what is.”

Belle smiled, grateful. “And you saved me too. You can be a hero too Rumple, you just have to believe in yourself.”

Rumplestiltskin looked away, the weight of her words weighing into him.

Him, a hero…

The doctor cleared his voice, pulling them from their heart-to-heart.

“I think I might be able to make some progress on our friend here,” he said, placing a hand on the dog ice sculpture. “But I’ll need to take him back to my lab for further examination.”

Belle and Rumple rose to meet the doctor at the table, who handed them his stethoscope.

“Listen,” he instructed, placing the metal part to the dog’s chest.

Belle listened first, her eyes widening as she handed the device to Rumplestiltskin.

“It’s…”

“A heartbeat.” Rumple concluded, meeting Belle’s brilliant smile.

“They’re alive, it would seem,” the doctor theorized. “As to how to revert them to their original state I cannot yet conclude.”

“It’s magic,” the Dark One pointed out. “It’s not exactly something you can solve.”

The doctor glared at him, but Belle stepped in the way to keep a fight from breaking out.

“How about I make us all dinner,” she offered.

“Sounds good to me,” Jefferson chimed in, taking his legs off the table. “I saw some strawberries on the way in. I’ll make tarts!”

“You can cook?” Belle asked.

“…I can put things in a bowl.”

The doctor scoffed in disgust. “Cooking is a science, hatter. I’ll handle any baking.”

Belle and Jefferson exchanged an amused look before the lead the red-faced doctor to the kitchen.

She stopped just outside the entry way, turning to Rumplestiltskin who was watching them whimsically.

“Aren’t you coming?”

He nodded solemnly. “In a moment.”

Belle smiled, heading to the kitchen.

Rumplestiltskin sighed, gripping the edge of the table as he struggled to sort out his thoughts.

He cared for her. He’d known this for some time now, but now things had gotten much more serious.

He was falling for her, and he had no idea what to do.

He glanced over to her bag, now dry from its night soaking in snow. Glancing towards the kitchen, he grabbed the bag and sorted through its contents until he found the small unburnt corner of Her Handsome Hero.

In a flash he was in his tower and placed the piece in a bowl along a special ingredient: a small, magical silkworm he’d been saving to rebuilt series of ancient scrolls.

This was more important.

He placed it with the book and smiled as it immediately set to work. It’d be a few days until Belle’s book was fully restored, and he’d have to find a subtle way to surprise her with it.

But there would be time for all that, there’d be time for everything.

Satisfied, he turned away from the bowl, making his way down the tower stairs to join Belle and the others for dinner.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #rumbelle christmas in july #rcij #rcij 2020 #ryik's fics

[silwenworld]

Fic: A Truth for a Truth. A study in Confusion

Title: A Truth for a Truth. A Study in Confusion Rating: T Word Count: 12 474 Summary:  Mr Gold returns to Storybroke after a one-year absence with a kid's backpack swung over his shoulder. Has he kidnapped someone? Made a deal with the child parents and holding the kid as a ransom? After all the stories Belle has heard about her landlord, she hopes it's not the case. AN: Suprise and Merry RCIJ @boushh2187! I really enjoyed being your Santa this year and our talks! I must admit I was a little nervous as this was my first time participating, but it was a lot of fun, getting to know you and all! :D Hope you’ll enjoy your gift :) https://archiveofourown.org/works/25505929/chapters/61878064 ----------- Belle French had never liked crowds - That was the first thing she had always said to everybody when asked about her choices. Why move to a small town and not a big city, like New York? Too many people were always the right answer. Of course, in that crowd, one could have easily become anonymous, a status almost impossible to achieve in Storybrooke. She realized, as she began to unpack her second box of things, that she missed that feeling very much so. It had been two days since she had arrived in Storybrook, a small town in Maine that she hoped to be her new home soon. Two days and there already had been curious glances thrown in her way. It wasn't like she didn't expect them - on the contrary, it was only normal as towns like this hardly ever got new residents. Why on Earth would anyone in their right mind want to move here? To a place where time almost stood still? Well, she didn't have the correct answer to that, not yet anyway, but as soon as she crossed the town line she had known, it had been exactly where she was supposed to be.

That had been two days ago. Now, Belle wasn't so sure anymore. Those people she had met so far had been kind and friendly, but it hadn't stopped her from worrying. Belle had never been good at those people stuff, preferring sitting on her own with a book than partying or gossiping. Others had found her strange, but she had never felt like that herself.

Bookworm - they had called her. Well, they had meant it as an insult, but she had never seen it as such. She still needed to work on her confidence tho.

Belle sighed as she looked around her new flat. It was small, but it already felt like home. She was yet to meet her landlord as his coworker, Mr Dove, was the one who signed the lease agreement with her.

"Mr Gold is away on business, he will contact you as soon as would be able to," he had said.

Well, it didn't stop her from asking shyly around. 

The first thing she had learnt was that people had a very firm opinion on Mr Gold. One she didn't know what to think of herself. The image the others had painted had her question her decision whenever renting a flat from the man was the right choice. Not that she had so many other options to choose from, he seemed to own almost the whole town.

A Ruthless Beast some had called him.

A Right Manipulative Bastard said the others.

And those were just the nicer ones. 

Belle had already felt anxious at just the thought of meeting the man. He sounded like someone who would probably want to know every personal information she had, and that didn't sit well with her at all.  She didn't like sharing her personal matters with others. With the experience, she had one answer lead to more questions, and before you could know it, everyone knew everything about you.

No. Belle was perfectly comfortable in her own inner world. It was a lot safer that way.

But the days had gone by, and there was no sight of one Mr Gold. The sign on the doors of his shop was still flipped to closed, and Mr Dove was the one to collect the rent. Ruby Lucas had a theory that the man had some gangster connections and disappeared to strike some shady deal.

"If we're lucky maybe he won't be back," she said one day, leaning against the table, throwing the kitchen towel over her arm.

"Is he really that bad?" Belle asked shyly waiting for the answer with strongly beating heart.

Ruby Lucas looked around then leaned conspiratorially towards Belle with a glint in her eye.

"The worst."

"Ruby! Stop maltreating the poor woman and go back to work!" It took all of Belle's willpower not to jump startled at Granny's loud shout. Ruby didn't seem too fazed tho, and she just smiled mischievously.

"Gotta dash!"

And so the days had gone by.  Each month Belle opened the door to see Mr Dove patiently waiting for the envelope containing her rent. And when the calendar on her wall told her one day that it had been half a year since her arrival to the small town, she began to worry. What if something really happened to the man? But Mr Dove would surely have told her if that was the case, wouldn't he? Looking at the clock, she realized that for someone who so good at interacting with others, she was thinking about the man she had never met quite a lot recently.

Those thoughts were persistent. They would sneak up on her without warning during her break at work in the library or while making coffee in the morning. There were also days when Mr Gold whereabouts didn't worry her mind at all. People moved on with their lives, and almost no one was discussing their landlord's sudden prolonged absence.

In all her wildest dreams, Belle couldn't have predicted how her eventual meeting with her landlord would go. And to be honest none of Storybrooke residents would have thought that the first time Mr Gold would have been spotted in town in a year would be with a child's backpack swung over his shoulder.

And so the gossip mill in Storybrooke had started. Belle tried not to take part in it. It wasn't like people like to chat with her, she was too closed in for most of them to engage with any sort of meaningful conversations, and it wasn't like she minded that or something. Still, she would be lying if she had said that she wasn't even slightly interested in the sudden change in the town's atmosphere. Funny, how things have changed for her in a year since moving here herself.

There was also one place one could hear the latest gossip - it didn't matter if they wanted to or not. Granny's Dinner for better or worst was the place Belle had her work break, and Ruby Lucas was even more willing to spill some beans without being prompt to do so.  

"Maybe he had kidnapped someone," she said without missing a beat, making Belle almost choke on her coffee.

"Who? A child?"

The woman just shrugged her shoulders as if it wasn't a big deal.

"I wouldn't put it passed him, the man's shady."

"Surely not shady enough to kidnap a child."

"Maybe it's a ransom? Or insurance? Oh! I know!" She shifted slightly to get even more close to Belle. "Maybe, the kid's mother sold them in a deal!"

"Are you sure I was the one who has read more books at the Uni? Because I have doubts."

"You're saying that now, but you will hear my words when you meat the man! He has always given me the creeps." She shuddered theatrically, and Belle couldn't help herself and softly giggled.

"Well, some of your boyfriends had given me creeps, and I've never complained."

"Iw, Belle! You implied Gold as your boyfriend, and now I want to gauge my eyes at the mental image."

Belle looked pointedly at the other woman knowing exactly what she was playing at. It had always been like that, since the day they had been pared as roommates at the Uni. Ruby was probably the only person in the world who had known almost everything about her. Belle had always been more closed in, but it didn't stop Ruby from putting up with her. Not even up to the point of convincing her to move into Storybrooke.

"Is he bad looking then?" She asked after taking a sip of her iced tea.

"Well, I wouldn't say so, but you know - it's Gold."

"I'm still lost."

"Put it this way," Ruby pulled her hand up, counting her fingers. "He wears nothing but three-piece suits with double cuff shirts and a cane - fits him right, but who dresses like that all the time? Granny would probably have a stroke if she saw him in jeans. Anyway, that's one. Two - he drives a vintage Caddy. Three - he owns most of the town and most people, including the mayor, hates his guts. Four - he's got some suspicious blokes working for him. You've met Dove, but there are more. Five - he's a dick. If that doesn't scream mafia or other shit like that, I don't know what does." Ruby sat back very satisfied with the points she had made, looking expectingly at Belle.

"Couldn't it be his nephew or a son? When was the last time you saw him?"

"I dunno. Seven? Eight years ago? Haven't been in town that much, but believe me he did not have a kid back then, I would have noticed, others as well. You need a second party for that to work and he sure as hell wasn't banging anyone in town."

"If you finished your charming summaries of other people's affairs, miss Lucas, would you kindly go back to what you get paid for by your grandmother or should I go back later when you finished your entertainment?"

Ruby visibly blanched, and Belle couldn't help herself this time around - she did jump startled at the low, accented voice as she wasn't expecting anyone other than her friend to speak. She didn't need to hear Ruby's hurried reply as she scrambled to her feet to know who was standing next to her.

Mr R. Gold.

He wasn't a tall man, that much she could tell even tho she was seated. He would still be taller than her, despite her wearing heels, but it wasn't something hard to achieve. From all the tales going around the town about the man, she would expect someone tall and heavily built, instead who she saw was a shortish, lean man. There was an aura around him tho, and in an instant, Belle understood why people were wary of him.

The aura that screamed power.  He didn't need to be tall for others to know who was calling the shots and not to be messed with.

A frown marred his brow, his lips pursed in a thin line as he leaned on his distinguished cane, shotting daggers at Ruby as he listened to her babbled apologies. Belle tried not to stare, but a thought very quickly crossed her mind that Ruby had been wrong - he didn't look old at all. His hair still brown had strands of silver woven in them, but it strangely suited him as did their unusual length as it reached his shoulders in soft waves.

"Mr Gold, I didn't see you come in," said Ruby, trying to smoothen down her short uniform skirt.

"I could tell," he shot back not even trying to sound friendly.

"What can I get you then?" Asked Ruby trying to sound calm, but failing.

"Two burgers one with extra pickles the other with extra cheese."

"Have a guest staying?" If Ruby tried to be subtle then in Belle opinion she was failing spectacularly. It was tough not to cringe. Gold's mouth twisted, clearly annoyed.

"No, a prisoner in need of rations, before I sell him to some drug lord or human traffic ring. Now, would you mind?"

Ruby visibly gulped, but Belle had to try really hard not to smile. The man had a very dry sense of humour. She could tell he was joking and wondered how others couldn't see the difference.

"Would that be all, Mr Gold?"

"Quite."

Belle watched as her friend all but fled to the kitchen, leaving her alone with her landlord. Her palms felt suddenly sweaty as she could feel his gaze boring into her. What one said to a man who you didn't know yet, whose life you were chattering about only a moment ago and who had heard you doing so?

The silence felt heavy, and with each beat of her heart, it was becoming less bearable.

"I'm quite good with faces," oh thank God, thought Belle, although her relief was shortlived, he was the one to speak first. "But I must say I haven't seen yours, Miss...?"

"French," she replied hurriedly shifting in her seat to look up at Mr Gold.     "it's Belle French. I'm, well, I'm actually one of your new tenants...?"

She didn't intend for it to sound like a question, but Gold's gaze was so intense it brought back all those memories when others looked down on her that her body did what it did involuntarily. At least her cheeks didn't burn. Not yet, anyway.

He was assessing her now, but she managed to keep still and not to fidget in her seat. She couldn't read his expression, but she hoped he wasn't weighing his options whenever to evict her or not. After what felt like forever, he nodded once.

"The apartment above the library?"

"Yes."

Another nod.

"I hope you find it satisfactory both the flat and the librarian post? It's quite late for the landlord to ask questions like that, but I like to think Mr Dove would tell me if something was wrong."

"Oh, no! It's perfect, it really is. More than perfect, even!"

Still having a roof over her head then, better to keep it that way and not offend the man, so it didn't matter she sounded stupid.

Gold's mouth twitched just so slightly at her sudden reply, but then his expression was back to neutral as he turned to check if his order was ready.

"Um, Mr Gold?" He looked back at her. "Would you care to sit down? There's no point in you waiting like that." It surely wasn't good for his leg.

He seemed to be weighing his options, but seeing that Ruby was nowhere yet in sight, he relented and limped around her booth to sit across from her.

Belle busied her hands with the half-empty glass of ice tea, trying very hard not to glance the man's way.  At first glance, he looked calm, but his fingers fidgeted with the handle of his cane in a way that told Belle he wasn't as comfortable as he would like to seem.

She squeezed the glass very hard, forcing herself to focus and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," she finally said. Gold turned his head towards her, raising his eyebrow in puzzlement.

"Whatever for, miss French?"

"Um, for earlier? We shouldn't talk about you like that. It wasn't any of our business. Ruby was out of line."

There it was again - that soft twitch of the man's lips, and suddenly Belle thought how Gold would look like while fully smiling. She didn't know where the thought had come from.

"Miss Lucas might have been away from the town for some years, but I can't say her absence improved on her character."

"Nevertheless it was uncalled for."

He tilted his head slightly to the side as if amused.

"Well, you must have heard a lot of things about my person. If you haven't found out already, people in this town are hardly shy about their attitude."

"Having been on the receiving end of the people's tongues before, I somehow have a feeling their opinion to be greatly exaggerated," she admitted, too late realizing that she had revealed more about herself to this man that she had to any other person in a year.

"You may find that there is more truth in rumours than you think."

"Oh, so you do kidnap infants in their sleep and deal in firstborns?" Her eyes winded, and she almost clapped her hands over her mouth in horror as the realization of what she had said had struck her. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest.

Belle couldn't remember when was the last time she had been forward like that, probably never, but something about this man was pushing this side of her to the surface. She watched him in trepidation fearing his reaction and waiting for a frown to appear on his face.

Nothing like that had happened.

Instead, Gold grinned broadly, the light catching in what appeared to be a gold tooth on the left side of his mouth.

He was amused, and Belle had to try really hard not to let her eyes to bulge even more.

"Be careful, miss French. People might get ideas. Some would say that teasing the beast might not end well."

"Then I will remember that when I see one."

The broad grin transformed into a soft smile, and he dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.  As quickly as the expression had come, it disappeared as Ruby excited the kitchen with Gold's order packed to go. He was back to frowning, and Belle felt a sudden pang in her chest at the change. Gold tightened the grip on his cane and stood up. It struck her that throughout their short conversation, his fidgeting had stopped and he had looked almost relaxed. Weird, how quickly he could snap back into the cold exterior he was presenting now while facing Ruby.

"Your order Mr Gold. Granny's sends her regards," Gold didn't look amused or glad at the notion. He pulled out the bill and passed it on to Ruby, taking the bag in exchange.

"As much as your grandmother would love that, I won't choke on it. Good day, miss Lucas. Miss French," he nodded once in Belle's direction and without waiting for a response swiftly left the restaurant. For a man with a limp, he walked very quickly.

The bell above the door jingled, and once again two women were left alone, Ruby's shoulders sagged in relief.

"How did I miss him coming in? He walks with a cane - how could I not hear him?" She muttered under her breath. Just as quickly, she straightened up and turned around to look intensively at Belle. A crease appeared on her forehead as she frowned, and Belle had to look around to make sure there was nothing out of the ordinary anywhere near her. Finding nothing, she looked back at her friend, confused.

"What?"

"You flirted with him."

"I did not!" She all but yelled back offended at the accusation, feeling her cheeks heat at the same time.

"Yes, you did!"

"No, I didn't!"

"Yes -"

"Ruby!"

"Oh, please, you so flirted with the man."

"I don't even know how to flirt!"

Ruby sighed and leaned on the table, looking expectingly at Belle.

"That thing you did? The I-will-remember-when-I-see-one line? That was flirting."

"That was a conversation, Rubs."

"Well, I had both and trust me on the judgment." Ruby looked all too pleased with herself and Belle didn't know what more to say. Was she really doing that? "He flirted back."

"What?"

"I said, he flirted back," she repeated pointedly.

"He was being polite."

"Yes, exactly. It's Gold we're talking about. And he smiled at you - he never does that, thus flirting."

"You're jumping - wait. Did you watch us?"

"Maybe..." she smiled sheepishly. "I didn't want to intrude. Look, do you like him?"

"Ruby, I just met the man."

"So? Me just meeting Shawn didn't stop me from sleeping with him."

Belle groaned into her hands, then rested her forehead on the table, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks.

"Hey, it's OK," suddenly Ruby was seated beside her bumping her on the shoulder. "I know you're not like that and it's fine too."

"I've never even kissed a guy before, not starting on sleeping with him." The table muffled her voice as she still didn't raise her head. That was another reason she decided to move away. There were talks at Uni about her. While pretty much everyone she had known had had at least one past relationship, she had none. She didn't know why, but it was how it was, and she couldn't help it. So yeah, the chances the guy she had just met was in some way interested in her were close to none.

"Belle? Come on chin up. There you are," Ruby smiled as Belle finally lifted her head and looked her in the eye. "I wasn't kidding, you know? I really think he liked you." Belle winced still not convinced, and Ruby tilted her head to the side. "Do you fancy him?"

Belle bit down on her lower lip, casting her eyes down. Was she?

"From all the talks I've heard over the year, he wasn't what I expected," she started slowly. She might have known Ruby for over close to six years now, but it didn't mean opening-up to her had become any easier. "He has a funny sense of humour - what?" Ruby was looking at her as if she had grown two heads.

"No, nothing. It's just, it's still Gold we're talking about, right? Ok, Ok, stop looking at me like that! I guess sarcasm can be counted as a sense of humour."

"I don't know what I feel, Rubs. At first, I was horrified he had heard us gossiping about him, but then he smiled, and he really does have a nice looking smile... And - stop grinning like that!"

"Can't help it, girl. I'm just happy that someone has finally caught my bestie's eye. Not sold on the choice, but it won't be me banging him."

"Can we stop with the innuendo, please?"

"You haven't been to his shop. He's got all weird things there - "

"You're not helping. It's not going to happen."

"I am willing to take one for the team and ask him out for you."

"Please don't. I would have died from embarrassment if he said no, besides I don't know I would."

"Listen to Aunt Ruby, Belle. My nose is hardly wrong. Just you wait."

Somehow, deep down, Belle knew Ruby was right because all she needed was a memory how Mr Gold had reacted to her words to know she was in deep. She had wanted to see more of those soft smiles and wondered how his laugh sounded. Did he use to laugh? Did the child he had brought a burger for had heard him laugh like no other?

Belle groaned and banged her head on the table. She was in trouble.

******

Mr Ronald Gold felt confused, and he wasn't sure why. To add to that, he wasn't used to feeling that way. All because of a small, and at first glance, unimportant woman.

Belle French.

He didn't know what had come over him. He had never spoken to anyone in a way he had with her before. He had been all too ready to snap at her in the same way he had at miss Lucas, but something had stopped him. Maybe it had been the fact that he had seen her suppressing a smile at his comments about keeping someone prisoner, perhaps something different. He even had abandoned the idea of snaping at the woman altogether and started what he had aimed to be a normal, polite conversation. But then she has surprised him with her bold retorts, and what had been even more amusing, she had seemed to be even more surprised by her words than him.  He had not only joked with her, no. He had smiled at her. A genuine, even if small, but still  - a smile. She had taken him by surprise, and he was yet to shake that confused feeling she had awaken in him.

"Are you OK, papa?" he looked up from the food he had bearly touched across the table at the source of the childish voice.

Oh, yes. The reason for his yearly absence, and also the topic of the latest Storybrooke's rumour mill much to Gold's dismay. His ten-year-old son who was looking at him with concern while still holding onto the remains of the hamburger.

"Yes, why shouldn't I be?"

The boy shrugged.

"You looked weird, that's all."

Gold sighed. Weird was one way to put it. He was about to run a hand through his hair in frustration but stopped mind motion as he saw the look on his boy's face.

"Neal?" The kid had bowed his head, leaving the hamburger on the plate suddenly forgotten. Gold stood up and limped to kneel next to the boy. "What is it? You can tell me. I promise I won't yell or anything." Neal mumbled something bearly audible. "Come again?"

"You won't hand me over, right?"

"Of course I won't," he answered, not missing a beat, he wanted to scream the words out but thought better of it. Instead, he frowned in confusion. It seemed he was better got used to the feeling. "Whatever gave you such an idea?"

Neal shrugged again still not looking at him.

"You were frowning and looked weird. I thought... I thought that maybe you had second thoughts, maybe - "

"Neal, look at me, son. That's right. I will never give up on you, ok? You're not getting back to your mother, and nothing and no one will make me change my mind. And if someone comes after you? He will have to get through me first. Now, come here."

His boy didn't need more prompting, and he all but threw himself in Gold's arms. Gold held him close as he manoeuvred the both of them into a sitting position on the floor that was less murderous for his ankle. He gently ran his fingers through the curly mop of hair, waiting for the sniffing to lessen a little.

"I know, I haven't been around - "

"Wasn't your fault, I know. It was mum's."

Gold bit down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying what exactly he thought about his ex-wife. Some language his son was better not to hear. It didn't change the fact that she was the reason why the boy was as insecure as he was. Instead of speaking, he tightened his arms around Neal.

"I won't let you go now. That's what matters."

"Sorry for being silly."

"You weren't. It's fine, and I don't mind the hugging."

Neal giggled then wiped his nose with his sleeve after unwrapping his small hands from around Gold's torso.

"Wait till I tell that to the others," he said while grinning and Gold poked him playfully on the chest.

"Others are not you. Besides, they wouldn't believe it anyway."

Neal laughed, and Gold counted that as a victory. He watched his son closely for the remaining hours of the day for any sights of changes in his mood, but everything went fine. They managed to work on his math homework, and when the clock had struck eight, he tucked the boy to sleep.

Gold sat down in the armchair in the living room nursing a glass of whiskey, thinking. Soon he would have to enlist Neal to a school. He knew the boy needed it, but dreaded the day anyway. It would be a lot easier for the boy if he didn't have his surname. Also, Neal was still adjusting.

Gold winced, then emptied the whole glass in one go. Damn Millah for taking his son away from him. Damn her for running away with him not from love but out of spite. And damn the court for being so lazy about the whole case.

He ran a hand over his face, suddenly weary. He wondered what else he could do for Neal to make him feel better, and the change in his life easier. Getting a pet was out of the question, at least for now. What else... He sat up straighter.

Belle French was the librarian. Neal had enjoyed being read to when little, hadn't he? Maybe Gold would visit the library and got some books for him. The additional benefit of seeing Miss French again had nothing to do with it, of course. He had bearly known anything about the woman, he had an inkling that few people did, but the idea of seeing her caused that weird feeling of confusion to bloom inside of him again. He didn't know what it was, but the sooner he found out, the sooner he would be able to move back to normal. Neal needed normal.

That settled it. He would visit the library tomorrow, get his son some books and deal with the confusion that was Belle French. With that in mind, Gold stood up and limped towards the stair. What could go wrong?

********

It turned out that nothing ever could have run as smoothly as you could plan it, and Gold was soon about to find this out.

He left his home promptly first thing in the morning with the sole purpose of going straight for the library and conducting his business. Neal accompanied him very eager to be out of the house even for the change of the scenery that was Gold's shop where the boy was supposed to spend his day. The boy looked curiously over the window as they drove past the streets. Gold drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in unease with only one thought repeating itself in his mind. The sooner he could get this over with the better.

The confusion he had felt the day before lingered.

He had slept poorly all the while thinking if Belle French also had the same problems. Stupid. Why would she?

So his mood was foul since even the morning coffee couldn't have done the trick, and he slightly wished for someone to get in his way just for the sole purpose of having his way with them.

His mood didn't improve upon arriving at the library's door as he had found them closed. Gold frowned and checked the time on his watch. There was no mistake that it was past the opening time - only a couple of minutes, but still. He tapped his cane on the pavement in annoyance then turned his back to the door in the intension of crossing the street to his shop where Neal was keeping himself busy.

He made it exactly four steps down the pavement.

Later on, he would probably blame it on the lack of sleep and the fact he was too wrapped in the fact that the first person who would be unfortunate enough to encounter him later that day would be the one to face the full stock of his displeasure to notice someone else coming his way. Someone who clearly wasn't paying attention to where they were going as much as he wasn't. And yeah, at one point in time, they would be both laughing about it, but right now no one felt this way.

Two things had happened.

One: Someone walked into Gold with full force, almost knocking him down, making him react like on reflex as his hand darted forward towards the other person, preventing them from falling as well.

Two: Something wet and hot splattered over his chest, burning him through his clothes.

Gold didn't know who had yelped. Maybe he (unlikely) or the one who had dared to walk into him (more probable). The yep had been definitely woman's, and he was about to show her how displeased he was when he got the first good look at who exactly had walked into him, and spilt, what he assumed had been, a hot coffee all over his front.

Belle French.

Of all the people...

Her face was the perfect picture of a mix between horror, embarrassment and something else eternally that he wasn't able to name. From her eyes opened wide to her open mouth, she looked as if she wanted to both run away from him and hide right here and there.

The empty paper cup rolled away from them towards the middle of the street.

He was still holding her by the wrist.

Belle's mouth moved silently in shock a couple of times before she snapped into action.

"Oh, my God! I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" She was on him in an instant. Unsure and hesitant, but determined at the same time. She freed her hand from his and opened her bag, looking for something in it.

She was mumbling apologies, and all he could do was stand stiffly still. He was about to say something, wasn't he? He was annoyed. Yes, that was it. He was supposed to show her just why people were so wary of him and why no one ever dared to spill coffee on him.

Yes, he would do just that. He had even opened his mouth ready to show her a piece of his mind, but then she produced a handkerchief and started to pat his chest with it.

All he was able to do was to open and close his mouth like a fish.

And just like that. The confusion he had felt before, and up to this moment, decided to be dormant, was back in full force. That weird feeling starting deep inside his chest, spreading outwards that had nothing to do with the hot liquid still seeping through his clothes.

"I- I can't believe I did that. I'm so sorry."

Belle really didn't mean any of it to happen. Her coffee machine had broken, and she had decided to pop to Granny's for a cuppa and be back before the opening, but there had been a lot more people there than usual as Granny herself seemed to be out, living Ruby alone at the Dinner, and she had found herself running late.

How could she had such bad timing concerning one man was beyond her comprehension. First the gossiping now this. Oh, she was so, so screwed.

Belle was about to let out another stream of apologies when he noticed Gold wincing after her last touch, and she was even more mortified. Had the coffee burned him?

She looked around the street and not noticing anybody she caught him by the arm and spun him around in the direction of the library.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Gold. Really, I am."

"Miss French - "

"The coffee could have burned you. It did, didn't it?"

"It's fine. No harms done."

"I beg to differ. Would you, Um. Would you come with me, please?"

He was about to decline yet again, but the agitated look on her face had stopped him. What was wrong with him? Firstly he didn't bare her (which was his intention, the words just hadn't left his mouth), then this.

"As you wish."

Belle sighed in relief, then all but pushed the man into the library, closing the doors behind them. She was late, to begin with. People could wait. She ushered Mr. Gold to the small bathroom that was behind her desk after he claimed it was fine and they needn't go to her flat while she was mumbling apologies.

As soon as he disappeared behind the doors, she buried her face in her hands, sinking into a chair. God, she was so useless. How can one person mess up so much in a matter of two days? Well, at least one thing was certain. Any chances she might have with the man were done for.

"Miss French?"

She jumped startled and was on her feet, immediately facing the bathroom door. She stopped in her tracks almost at once. Mr. Gold stood just behind her, wearing only his dark red shirt. With the first two buttons undone, and missing the tie, he looked almost like a different man. She had met him only twice now, but by the way, the was standing awkwardly, not meeting her eyes she could tell looking like this was almost equal to being undressed. She blushed fiercely at the thought and tried to mask it by coughing.

Great, Belle. Let's make it more awkward than it already is, why don't you.

"Please tell me the coffee didn't burn you." 

The corner of his lips twitched just so slightly.

Now he probably thinks me stupid.

"The layers of clothing have many advantages it seems," he answered, and Belle's eyes moved to his jacket and waistcoat that he draped over his arm. She nodded.

"I'll get it cleaned for you."

His head snapped towards her, his brow furrowed.

"There's no need - "

"Mr. Gold," she interrupted, aiming for a firm tone. "I ruined it so at least let me make up for it." He was hesitating she could tell. "Please?"

He looked at her closely as if assessing if she had some ulterior motive or not. Finally, after what had felt like forever, he extended the bundle of clothes towards her.

"You can tell the dry cleaner to add it to my bill."

"There's no need. I'll pay for it."

"Miss French - "

"I think I can afford a dry cleaner once in a while, Mr. Gold," she cut in, raising an eyebrow at him. He bowed his head.

"Of course. I've never assumed otherwise. My apologies."

"I threw a coffee at you. It's me who should be apologizing."

"Well, I assure you others would pay to do just that. You might have just gained new popularity points with that."

"I, ah, I've never aimed for that..."

"A woman like yourself and not popular is a hardly believable thing."

"Um, no, actually not," she answered awkwardly, casting her eyes down. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, and Belle didn't know what to say to make it disappear. How was it possible that at the same time, she wanted to keep things to herself and to share them with this man? She hugged his jacked closer wishing to disappear. And it was going so well.

Mr. Gold cleared his throat.

"I apologize. It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable in any way, Miss French."

"No! You didn't! I mean... Look, " screw it. Ruby had said to be honest once, what she had to lose? "I'm not especially good at sharing... It's-It's a work in progress." She finished lamely. 

She couldn't look him in the eyes and was sure that she had messed this up, but when she glanced his way, he was smiling faintly.

"I quite understand what you mean; believe me." 

Her shoulders sagged in relief, and she risked a small, timid smile. Something warm bloomed inside her chest. Huh, a weird feeling - confusing even. Gold kept looking her way with a look on his face she couldn't interpret then cleared his throat and tapped his cane on the floor.

"I must get back to open my shop. If you excuse me."

"Mr. Gold?" she called him before he could reach the exit. "Didn't you want something from the library?"

The look on his face could be comical, and she suppressed the urge to giggle.

"Oh, yes. Wouldn't you happen to have something for a boy of ten?"

She smiled.

"Any particular subject?"

"He happens to be quite fascinated with the dinosaurs lately and dragons." He added after a thought. She nodded already looking through the catalogue in her head.

"I may have just the thing. I'll be right back. In the meantime, you can fill in the form for the library card, would that be all right?"

He nodded, and she disappeared between the shelves. It didn't take her long to locate the one book she had in mind. She got back and put it on the desk, sliding it towards Mr. Gold.

"There are others, but I think your son would enjoy this one first."

Gold's head snapped up from where he was reading the title on the cover. He was staring not saying a thing, and she was beginning to berate herself for saying too much when his expression cleared and he nodded.

"I think he'll love it. Thank you."

He tucked the book under his arm and limped towards the exit. Belle let out a sigh and began to enter the data to the computer, trying not to think about the way he looked like just in his shirt and sleeve garters.

"Miss French?"

She looked up startled. He didn't leave yet. Instead, he stood with one hand on the doorknob, looking hesitant.

"Yes, Mr. Gold?"

"May I offer you a deal?"

She frowned, not completely understanding.

"What kind?"

"Truth for a truth. You tell me something about yourself, and in exchange, I do the same. Each time we met."

"Two socially inept people helping each other out?"

The corner of his lip curved upwards. 

"Exactly."

Her heart rate increased. Was she able to do that? She was about to say her excuse why it was a bad idea when something had stopped her. Mr Gold looked just as uncertain as she did, even tho he tried to mask it. He was taking a leap of faith, why she didn't know, but she could see hope hiding in his gaze. Could Ruby be right? 

Do a brave thing.

Belle smiled. "It's a deal, then."

Gold broke into a broad grin.

"To the next time, miss French."

As he left the library, the grin transformed into a soft smile. Gold still didn't understand what was going on with him, but he was beginning to suspect. The deal was a  bold move - he had almost left without saying a thing, before deciding to throw caution to the wind. And it had paid off. 

Gold crossed the street with a lightness to his steps. Curiosity, that what it was. It had been s many years since he had felt it that it must have been it. Confusion and Curiosity were almost the same things, after all, so that had to be it.

The bell above the door jingled announcing his arrival.

"Well, it seems the hell has frozen over - Mr Gold in nothing but a shirt. I should take pictures because nobody will believe me."

Gold grimaced suddenly remembering his state of undress, before turning towards the owner of the voice.

"No word will get out, and your next rent will be surprisingly lower."

"Careful, Gold. At this rate, you will find me walking rent-free."

Missus Lucas stood behind his counter, arms crossed with a satisfied, smug look on her face. Gold restrained himself from any further comments that just asker for being said.

"I hope Neal didn't cause any trouble."

"That boy? He couldn't be trouble even if he wanted," Granny shook her head and circled the counter. "No idea who he got that from."

"Believe me, Missus Lucas, I keep asking myself the same question."

"Papa!" and speak of the devil the boy in question ran out at full speed from around the curtain and collided with Gold's knees, wrapping his small hands around Gold's waist. "Granny has brought me the apple pie!"

"Did she now? Is there anything left?"

"He would have eaten the whole piece," missus Lucas said, shaking her head. "I've always said he would grow up to have a sweet tooth."

Considering the fact that Gold up to this day put three sugars in his tea, it wasn't surprising at all.

"I got you something from the library," he handed the book to his son whose eye's timidity brightened upon seeing the dinosaurs on the cover.

"Cool!" He was evidently going to say more but then frowned as if noticing something.

"Papa? Did you had to leave your clothes in exchange for the book?"

"What?" Gold spluttered taken aback by the question. He could hear Granny snorting behind his back.

"I mean... Isn't it what happened? You had your jacket before - "

"The clothes are fine, Neal. They got dirty, and I had to take care of them. No, why won't you go to the back while I say Goodbye to Missus Lucas?"

Neal nodded, satisfied with the explanation.

"Goodbye, Granny!"

The older woman shook her head in fondness, but her expression changed as soon as the boy disappeared behind the curtain. Suddenly Gold felt very unease under her gaze.

"So, you happened to be in the library and leave your clothes there, didn't you Gold?"

"There was a coffee accident if you must now, nothing inappropriate happened," he snarled back.

"Not from the lack of trying, I'm sure."

"Are you insinuating something? I really hope not, or the rent might go up after all."

"Just remember that if you hurt that girl, I'll come after you."  With that she turned around and left, leaving Gold speechless in her wake.

His fingers tightened on the golden handle of his cane as he scowled at the door. Just what exactly was the old hag thinking? That he did what? Went to the library, threw himself at the poor woman, taken the children book with him and forgot to take back the rest of his clothes?

His expression darkened.

He wasn't even in love with Miss French. He was curious about what he was. Of all the stupid assumptions...

Mr Gold turned his back to the door and limped towards the back room.

Him. In love. Ridiculous.

Or was it?

*****

Neal Gold didn't know what to think of Storybrooke. He knew that he had been born and raised here before his mother had taken him away, but that was it. No memories from his early childhood lingered, accept of some hazy flashes of his early-childhood home. He didn't know anybody yet, and some people were throwing him weird looks from time to time, but that didn't bother him. He knew it probably was because of his papa.

People didn't like his papa, and Neal couldn't understand why. Papa read him to sleep, told stories and hugged him. He bought him ice cream and made him a plush rabbit out of the old polar fleece. Yet people were throwing him nasty looks or crossing the street hurriedly when they spotted him. So at first, Neal thought he was alone in thinking it unfair, but it soon had changed.

The first time he had met Miss Belle was when he went to the library to return the dinosaur book two weeks after his papa had brought it to read. She smiled at him, and Neal had a feeling she knew who he was just from looking at him. Granny had told him once he had his papa's eyes, maybe that was how miss Belle had known.

Neal decided quite early on that he liked Miss Belle. He much preferred to stay at the library than with Granny when he needed to be looked after. Miss Belle was quiet, but she seemed to understand Neal's shyness. And yes, she smiled at him, but it was a completely different smile than when his dad was in the room. It was hard to miss. Well, hard to miss for him, his papa seemed to be oblivious to it, but she did smile more broadly, and it looked to Neal as if she acted more open. Papa's way changed too. He joked more, smiled and, on one occasion, even laughed.

Every time Neal had seen them together, they were also saying some weird stuff.

"I can't drive a car," miss Belle would say.

"I can knit," his papa would answer.

"I can play the piano."

"I can't swim."

There were many silly things like that said between them.  Always by the end of their conversations. Neal was sure there were more when he wasn't present. And sometimes, when his papa would send him to play or to look for a book he would like to read, but he wouldn't get as far as not to hear them, they would say stuff that didn't sound silly.

"My mum died when I was little. Sometimes I still miss her."

"My father left me. He died before I could make peace with him."

"I'm a slow learner. I always have this feeling of not being enough."

"I have dyslexia. Been picked upon a lot because of that."

No. Neal didn't understand one a bit why they had been saying all those stuff to each other, but he knew two things. Miss Belle liked his Papa. And Papa liked her back.

Neal was just a boy, but he wasn't stupid. They didn't like each other like he and Emma, the only kid who was willing to speak with him at school, but more like Emma's parents. Neal was sure of it. It took him a couple of months of watching them, but he couldn't understand how he was able to see this, yet both of them could not.

"How was school?"

Neal jumped surprised, clutching the papers he was holding in his hands, so lost in thoughts that he didn't hear his Papa come in into the kitchen after saying his Goodbyes to Granny. He flashed him a big smile and slid off the stool. He carefully extended one of the papers towards his father while still holding onto the other one.

Gold took it carefully into his hand, arching a curious eyebrow.

"Missus Nolan said to draw places that mattered to us," Neal said while watching carefully for his father's reaction.  The man smiled softly.

"My pawnshop?" Neal nodded, then took a step forward, peering at the page as his father lowered it slightly, so it was easier for him to see.  The boy tapped the painting with his index finger.

"That's you."

"Yes, I can see the resemblance." There was a hint of humour in his father voice - not a mocking one, but slightly amused, and Neal beamed proudly at him.

"I should really buy you a painting kit," Gold added as he saw the happiness on his son's face.

He wasn't joking - the picture was very good for a nine-year-old. From the details of various items on the displays to his person standing behind the counter leaned over what seemed to be the ledger.

Gold ruffled his son's hair fondly before limping towards the fridge and pining the picture to its doors with a magnet. He turned around with a smile. Neal looked at his work with big eyes as if not entirely believing his father would put it on display like that. Gold shook his head. The next time Neal would paint anything for him, he would definitely put it in his pawnshop if only to make his son even happier.

Only then did he notice that the boy was still holding another sheet of paper.

"And what's that?" He asked.

"Oh," Neal looked down suddenly shy, and Gold limped towards him waiting patiently for him to continue. "I-I also drew this?"

Gold gently took the shily offered sheet into his hand and had to draw a sharp breath as he saw what it depicted. It was the interior of the town's library, but the bookshelves were by the walls and a huge chandelier hanged from the ceiling. In the middle, there was Belle, but not dressed as she used to, but instead in a long, golden dress. She was holding a book, reading it with a soft smile. There was another person there. Dressed in blue. Gold had to swallow hard because he knew who the other person was, just as he had known with the other picture. It was him.

"I finished it yesterday," Neal was saying, and Gold had to force his eyes away from the painting back to his son, who rubbed his hands together in a gesture very similar to his father's. "Do you like it?"

"Of course I do," he answered without missing a beat despite his shock. "It's beautiful," he added when seeing Neal was still looking down.

Neal raised his head, smiling shyly.

"It was our homework. We had to draw a fairytale."

"And what a kind of a fairytale is this?"

"Beauty and the Beast," Neal fixed him with a look that said the answer was obvious and Gold was stupid not to see it. He looked back down at the picture giving it a second look. Oh yes. The Disney version. He shook his head with a fond smile.

"Of course, it is."

He was the Beast. And Belle was Beauty. Both of them ready to dance, by the look of it, and Gold really didn't know how to feel about that.

"Um, Papa?"

He looked up, realizing he was still staring at the picture. Neal was looking at him expectantly.

"Can I go and play with Emma today?"

"Don't you have any homework to do first?"

"I thought, maybe we could do it with Emma later?"

The boy sounded hopeful, and Gold knew one thing - it was tough to say no to his boy when he was looking at him like that.

"You are aware I'll check with Missus Nolan if it happened or not, aren't you?"

"Does it mean I can go?"

Gold couldn't help it. He smiled.

"Pack your bag. I'll drop you off."

"Yes! Thanks, Papa!"

The boy ran up to him and hugged him around the middle then bolted towards the stairs.

"Slow down, I won't drive off!" he shouted after him with amusement. "Bring the library books with you when you get down!"

"Yes, sir!" came the muffled shout from upstairs.

Gold shook his head, then put the picture on the table. He would have to think about where to put it later. Gold patted his pockets, then frowned when not finding his car keys. He limped to the living room and sure thing, he found them on the table. He heard Neal's fast footsteps as he ran down the stairs and turned around to see the boy disappearing in the kitchen.

"In here!"

The boy popped his head around the doorframe all ready a moment later with his backpack and stack of books in his hands smiling happily.

As they left home, Gold didn't notice that the fairytale picture no longer laid on the table. Nor did he see the small corner of a white sheet of paper sticking out from between the books he was about to return to the library.

He dropped Neal by the Nolans with a promise to pick him up later, then drove off towards his shop. There were still things he could take care off, like looking through the inventory, while Neal was away, but first, the stop at the library was in order. He picked the books from the backseat and after locking the car, limped across the street.

"Mr. Gold! I didn't expect to see you so soon!"

"My son, it seems, put his mind on reading every book in your children section, miss French," he answered with a smile at the enthusiastic greeting as he closed the library doors behind him.

"It's good then that there are many books left to read in there yet." She smiled at him as he approached and something stirred inside of him at this sight. That confusion that changed into the curiosity that now he believed was neither of those two and possibly never had been. In the months he had been talking with the woman, that feeling should go away. Instead, it had become stronger. It was harder to deny it for what it was.

"If you have anything about pirates I would gladly accept it," he said despite his thoughts.

"I do actually, but I might have something even better. Wait a moment."

He put the stack of books at the desk and watched her from the corner of his eye as she made way between the shelves. She was dressed in a blue dress that matched her eyes and Gold had to try very hard not to stare. He caught himself thinking how she would look like in a dress like the one Neal had drawn her in, the thought alone made his heart rate quicken.

He was hopeless.

"Here you are," Belle returned with a book in her hand and stood close to him watching his reaction. Gold arched his eyebrow in curiosity upon seeing the title.

"'20,000 Ligues Under the Sea'. Yes, I see what you mean."

"I'm a little surprised Neal's not here with you." She said while checking out the book.

"Oh, he's at the Nolans. It seems, my worries about enrolling him in school were farfetched," he answered while leaning slightly on the desk. Belle smiled at that.

"I'm happy he found a friend in Emma. She's a lovely kid, even if she's a little troublemaker."

Gold grimaced.

"Yes, well. I'm not sure who's worse influence on whom."

It was a wonder the Nolans didn't have any objections to their daughter spending time with his son, considering him being Neal's father and all. Belle seemed to read his mind as she tilted her head to the side, watching him.

"You're a good father, Mr Gold. And a good man."

"My ex-wife may differ."

"With all due respect, Mr Gold, I don't believe a woman who in all rights kidnapped her son just almost to abandon him has a say in that matter."

Gold dipped his head to hid his expression. It was almost surreal how this woman was supportive of him ever since she had learned of the story why he was away for a year. Finding his son, winning the custody battle, and then taking time away with Neal before coming back to town to make the change easier for the boy - Belle French had learned about it all. Nobody else knew the full story. Just her. And her constant support was something that Gold couldn't be grateful enough.

"Well, it's not like she's the only one in thinking that."

"They don't know you as well as I do."

"Of that, I am glad, Miss French," he answered with a small smile. She slid the book towards him, then bit down gently on her lower lip, nervously tugging a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"You can call me Belle if you want. I won't mind," she said after a while, looking up at him shily.

He shook his head, fondly. He would like that very much, but it would be no good.

"As tempting as it is, you must think about your job here. Too much fraternizing with the town's villain may not sit well with others."

"There are only a handful of people whose opinion matters to me, Mr Gold. I learned a long time ago I wouldn't satisfy everyone."

"Didn't we all."

Belle smiled, not put off by his somehow bitter sounding response.

"The offer stays, and won't go anywhere."

"I'll keep that in mind, Miss French," he said as he tucked the book under his arm.

"I like dancing," Belle said which made him turn his head towards her puzzled at the sudden change in topic. "That's today's truth. I like it, but others think I don't."

"And why's that?"

She shrugged her shoulders, averting her gaze.

"I've never the been one for clubbing, probably that's why. But I do enjoy it, even tho I don't have anybody to dance with." She added.

Gold watched her closely after she threw a small smile his way. There was a trace of sadness in her eyes.

"Well," he cleared his throat. "I'm not much of a dancer, not since the car accident, but I used to enjoy it."

Her gaze snapped up to him, and he smirked at her surprised expression.

"Is this an invitation, Mr Gold?"

"It could be if you're not afraid of a crippled man stepping on your toes."

"What would people say," she said with a small smile, throwing his earlier words at him. He taped his lame leg with his cane.

"I believe that someone said something along the lines of it being overrated."

The doors to the library opened as someone walked in and Gold straightened up, his shoulders tensing at someone else's presence. It was time for him to leave.

"The offer stays, miss French," the corner of his mouth curved upwards just for her. She caught it just as the use of her previous words. He didn't wait for her replay, but limped out of the library, feeling her gaze on the back of his head.

He couldn't quite believe himself. Did he just do what he thought he did? Did he more or less invite the woman for a dance?

Gold couldn't remember the last time he had danced, but somehow Belle's confession (and she was Belle, not miss French, no matter how he denied it out loud) pushed him to say what he had thought all way since Neal's picture - that he would like that scene to happen for real. So he had said it without thinking, but as he limped towards his shop, Gold couldn't say he regretted it. On the contrary, it was as if some weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Weird. Maybe it was because he had finally understood what that thing he had been feeling towards Belle. It wasn't confusion, nor curiosity. It was love. And Robert Gold was utterly screwed because he didn't know what to do about it. He would be lucky if the woman would like to have anything to do with him (which surprisingly seemed to be the case), but to reciprocate the feeling? Improbable at best.

The mental image of her in a golden dress didn't help matters at all.

***

Belle kept her gaze on the doors up to the moment she couldn't see Gold anymore beyond them, their conversation running in her mind on a loop. She hadn't expected him to respond as he had. More than that, she was still surprised at how easily she was teasing the man. After all those months it still shocked her, because every time she had been talking with Mr Gold, Belle felt like someone else eternally. With no one else she was able to be so open, not even with Ruby. And Gold understood her. He had never rushed her or pushed her to say more than she was willing to.

Belle caught herself smiling. God, she was helpless. And Ruby was right - she did fancy her landlord. Belle would even risk saying it was more than a simple crush. A crush would have passed, yet the emotions she was feeling lingered. It didn't help tho that despite her willingness to open more to Gold, she was still afraid to make the next move. Because for all the talk about bravery, Belle was scared of rejection. At least this way she had something akin to friendship. Even tho she couldn't seem to convince the man to use her first name.

Belle shook her head in fondness. How could anyone think this man some sort of an evil imp, she would never understand. All others had to do was to look at the way he acted with his son to know who he really was. It seemed some people prefered to see what that they wanted to. Oh, she wasn't stupid or naive; she had seen him interact with others, especially when crossed with them, he could be quite brutal with words then. But she had also noticed quite early on, that when acting like that he usually had very good reason to.  Yet, in all those months, Gold had never raised his voice at her, not even once.  To her, he was an excellent gentleman.

And then there was today's conversation. She really didn't know what to think.

Belle looked at the clock. Aside from Gold, only three people had visited the library so far, and it didn't look like any more would come anytime soon. It would be a good time to put the returned books to their places. Those from yesterday's evening were the first to go. Soon only one stack was left. Belle looked to the side where Neal's books were lying and smiled while picking up the first one. Mr Gold was right, with a tempo like that the boy would soon finish all the age-appropriate books. She was about to move to replace them on the shelves when a paper sticking out between the volumes caught her eye.

Belle's curiosity changed into shock as she saw the painted picture that was hidden. A child's drawing and unmistakenly Neal's. Her throat felt suddenly tight as she looked at her face staring at her from the paper. And she wasn't alone.

Why would Neal draw his father and her in what looked to be a scene from Beauty and the Beast? It was beautiful, but what caught Belle's eye the most was the expression on Gold's face. It was soft and unguarded (as much as she could tell, Neal was very good for his age, but he was still just a child.). Was he always smiling at her like in the picture?

Belle swallowed and tore her eyes from the drawing with difficulty. Her heart was beating wildly, and all her instincts were telling her to stay where she was and not do a thing. But she couldn't. Not this time.

Do a brave thing, and the bravery will fallow.

Belle grabbed her keys from the desk and walked out from the library with the drawing still clutched in her sweaty palm. She crossed the street, not really looking at her surroundings as the nerves were almost eating her alive. If she were more focused, she would have spotted two small figures following her from a distance. But she wasn't so Belle reached the pawnshop oblivious to the spies on her tail.

The small bell above the door jingled at her entrance. The shop looked deserted, but as it wasn't closed, then the owner must lurk somewhere. 

"Excuse me, Mr. Gold?" Her voice sounded nervous, and she had to clear her throat. It didn't help much.

"I'm sorry the shop is closed - Miss French," Gold limped from the back room, but stopped short upon seeing her. He quickly recovered and leaned on his cane. "I didn't expect to see you so soon. Did something happen?"

"Um, I think... I think it belongs to you?"

She nervously approached him and watched as the smirk on his face gave way to confusion to be then replaced by understanding as she handled him the drawing. He didn't say anything, just looked intensively at it as the silence stretched between them. It felt heavy, more than ever before, and Belle couldn't stop herself from stepping from one foot to the other with a twisting feeling in her stomach.

"Where did you get this?" He finally asked, almost in a whisper. 

"It got caught between the books. I, well, I thought you might want it back."

"It's Neal's. I hope you don't feel offended by it."

He still wasn't looking at her, and Belle frowned at how distant his voice sounded.

"Why would I?"

"I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it. He's just a child."

Her frown deepened. 

"Mr Gold, why would I be offended by Neal drawing me as a princess?"

"I'm sure you would prefer someone other for the prince. I don't know why he did that. I apologize and promise it won't happen again."

He turned around hastily to move away. His posture stiff as putting an invisible wall between them.  It was as if he wanted to escape from her, and all of it because of the drawing. She didn't want it - him pulling himself away from her. Belle's heart screamed for him not to do it, and her body followed.

"Mr Gold, wait!" her hand shot out clutching him by the elbow, stopping him in his tracks. He stood utterly still, and only then, Belle realized that it was the first time any of them had touched one another aside from the dreaded coffee accident. She swallowed hard, suddenly out of words.

Gold slowly turned around, finally looking her in the eyes. They were uncertain, and Belle wondered if hers were too. Her mouth felt dry, and she had to wet her lips, hoping it would help. It didn't.  Her hand still didn't let go. She wanted to say something to reassure him. To say it was alright that she didn't want anybody else for the prince, that for her, it was perfect. To ask why his son had drawn them as he had, what had he seen that made him do it, but at that moment, while looking Gold in the eyes, she knew. And something else eternally left her mouth.

"I have never been kissed before."

His eyes winded, and she watched him swallow.

"It's not good to tell lies, miss French," he replayed with a strained voice.

"It's not a lie. The absolute truth."

He watched her, his eyes danced over her face for any indication that she was making fun of him, but finding nothing. She held his gaze steadily, even if her heart was beating so fast it hurt.

"I'm sorry, it's hard to believe that the woman so beautiful as you haven't been kissed even once."

The corner of her mouth twitched slightly.

"Well, it seemed I wasn't interesting enough for men," she said, shrugging her shoulders slightly.

"Then those men were fools," he huffed offended without missing a beat, making her smile widen.

"It was supposed to be a truth for a truth, Mr Gold."

"I wasn't lying about that either, Miss French. But I guess it wasn't personal enough..." He stopped himself before looking down. It seemed he was wrestling with something before he raised his gaze back up, and Belle had to try very hard not to gasp at the look in his eyes. "There is one thing I've wanted to do for some time... I didn't really know I wanted it at first - too much of a coward, I suppose to admit what was staring right at me..."

He drifted off, but slowly his left hand came up to tug the stray lock of hair behind her ear, and Belle had to suppress a shudder at the contact.

"What is it?" she whispered, mesmerized by his gaze.

Gold took a step closer, his gaze fleeting for a moment to her parted lips, before meeting her eyes again and swallowing. They were so close, their chests almost touching.

"You can hate me after knowing, Belle."

Belle. She loved the way he said her name. His voice bearly above the whisper, his eyes dark pools that she couldn't look away from.

"We won't know it, till you say it."

"I would better show it."

He leaned forward, closing the distance between them, and Belle closed her eyes as his lips closed over hers. The kiss was soft, almost like a brush of a feather, as if Gold was still little afraid of her reaction. Afraid she would push him away. She didn't. The anxiety she had felt before coming to the shop that lingered up to this moment, simply vanished, leaving her lightheaded. The kiss ended as quickly as it happened, and Belle opened her eyes to see Gold looking at her worriedly still only a breath away from her. She smiled.

"I may need to check one more time to decide about the hating part, Mr Gold," she said teasingly and beamed with happiness at seeing his features relax before he broke into a wide grin.

"Ronald. My name's Ronald."

He leaned down again, and this time she met him in the middle. Belle moved her lips against his slowly, hesitantly, not eternally sure of what she should be doing. Gold didn't seem to mind her clumsy efforts; he just smiled softly against her, before tilting his head slightly to the side to make it more comfortable for her. Belle didn't know when her hand ended on his neck or when his on her arm, just that it felt more wonderful than anything that had experienced before. She wanted more, couldn't wait for more, and the thought Robert seemed to feel exactly the same made her want to weep from joy. 

Ronald.  He had given her his name. As far as she knew, no one used his first name. And with his lips moving against hers, their bodies so close to one another, she felt like flying.

"I don't believe hate is the right word to describe what I feel," she admitted after they finally broke apart.

"And what is?" He asked.

"Love. How about that?"

He smiled, his eyes glinting with mischievous, but loving sparks, making it hard to resist kissing him again, once she had tasted what it felt like Belle didn't want to stop.

"Yes. That sounds about right."

Belle grinned and pulled him towards her, stealing a small peak to the lips before throwing her arms around his neck. Gold hugged her close, closing his eyes, his heart finally slowing down.

Yes. It took him some time to properly name his emotions, but now that he had, it felt liberating. A weight that was constantly on his shoulders lifted, not only because admitting to his feelings but also because of the other thing - Belle felt the same. At this moment he promised himself one thing, he would make it right. For Belle and Neal, he would make it right, for them to be happy. He felt Belle's lips curving in a smile against his neck and promised himself he would do everything in his power not to screw it up.

"Just so you know, I'm still counting on that dance," she murmured, and he relaxed pulling away slightly, but not letting go. Gold brushed his fingers over her cheek astonished, by the loving look she was giving him.

"We can dance for forever if that's what you want."

"Oh, but then there would be no time for other things, right?"

"Close to forever then."

Belle laughed, and he couldn't help himself and let out a chuckle.

Yeah, life was looking good.

Neither Gold nor Belle noticed two small figures watching them between the blinds from outside the shop window.

"I told you the drawing would work."

"Yeah, but I was the one who drew it!"

"But the idea was mine!"

The children grinned in triumph before straightening themself and bumping their fists together. Their plan had worked. From Emma giving the idea for homework to her mother to this point and Neal couldn't be more satisfied.

"So a milkshake at Granny's?" He asked while they made their way away from the window. It would do no good for the grown-ups to spot them now.  

Emma nodded.

"Miss Lucas is waiting for the news and as the news are good... " She looked towards Neal with a smirk. Free milkshakes were too tempting to pass. "Race you!" Emma clapped him on the shoulder and runoff.

"Hey!" Neal ran after her with a lightness to his step, not missing a beat. He felt happy. Free Milkshakes were one thing, but nothing would beat the other - His Papa was happy, that was enough to make Neal laugh.

And it was just the beginning.

#rumbelle christmas in july #RCIJ 2020 #boushh2187 #Rumplestiltskin #Belle Gold #once upon a time #fanfiction #myfic #rumbelle fic #rumbelle

[boushh2187]

Unexpected - RCIJ 2020

Title: Unexpected

By @boushh2187

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Pairing: Rumbelle

Rumbelle Christmas in July 2020 

Gift for @lotus0kid

Prompt: “I’m doing you a favor”

Word Count: 4053

Rated: PG

Author’s Note: I really hope you enjoy the story, lotus0kid, and that it makes you smile!

Summary: Storybrooke AU. Mr. Gold finds himself on an unexpected trip.

“When you think about it, I’m doing you a favor.”

“Shouldn’t that be my line?” Richard Gold looked up from his seat in Archibald Hopper’s office, his expensive three piece suit a bit wrinkled after all day wear. Dr. Hopper also wore a suit, though one that had seen better days. He looked slightly uncomfortable at being caught repeating the kind of words Gold often used, but only slightly. Perhaps, after a few long chats in this office over the years, Dr. Hopper felt as if they were friends. Gold wasn’t sure he’d go that far, even if Dr. Hopper knew more about Gold’s personal life than anyone in the town of Storybrooke, Maine. He had, after all, just threatened him with eviction for not having this month’s rent, but perhaps Dr. Hopper also knew that it was rather an idle threat. At least, due to the circumstances.

He looked across the room at Pongo. Dr. Hopper’s Dalmatian was resting on top of a comfortable looking blanket on top of his bed. The poor dog was recovering from surgery. His leg was wrapped up in a cast and he was drowsy from the procedure and the pain medicine. Gold had a soft spot for Pongo, and understood that Dr. Hopper had used the rent money and then some for this unexpected procedure.

“It’s the perfect solution,” Dr. Hopper continued, pushing up his glasses and sitting up straighter. I don’t have the money, due to Pongo’s surgery, but I do have this trip I was to go on, and now I need to stay with Pongo. You can go in my stead. It’s all expenses paid. I won it in a contest, so you don’t have to worry about a thing. I can make all of the changes with the company and you can even invite your son.” His smile reached his eyes, and the thought obviously made him happy. Dr. Hopper was one of very few people in this town that even knew he had a son, and how much Gold loved his son, and missed him.

Bae would probably enjoy it, and might be able to find a way to convince his mother to allow him to miss school. “That isn’t a bad idea. I haven’t seen him in months. It would be the perfect reason for his mother to allow him to go away with me.”

Archie brightened even more, if that was possible. “I told you! I really would be grateful if you would take this deal.”

Gold was amused. “I think you might be adapting some of my quirks.” This time, Dr. Hopper grinned and walked over to his small cabinet and pulled out a bottle of scotch. Gold nodded when Dr. Hopper nudged the bottle towards him as an offer. Adapting some of his quirks, indeed. Dr. Hopper poured them both a glass and they shared a moment of silence as they enjoyed the fine liquid. Gold put his glass down. “And I sincerely hope that Pongo mends swiftly. Call me with the details as soon as possible so that I can make arrangements with my son.”

“Will do!” Dr. Hopper was already rummaging through his papers to make the relevant calls. Hopefully, this will turn out to be a good way to reconnect with his teenage son. 

*****

Mr. Gold boarded the plane looking more like he was going to a business meeting instead of a vacation. He had a shoulder bag that held his travel essentials, and he’d checked his other luggage. It took some effort to move through the narrow aisle of the plane with his bag and his cane. He resisted the temptation of blowing his hair out of his eyes. His hair was shoulder length, as he’d worn it since before Bae was born, except that now there were generous amounts of grey along his temples and sideburns. Where had the time gone? He would hopefully be meeting his fourteen year old son at the hotel. Fourteen! In the last picture his son had sent him, Bae looked like he’d grown a foot, and he had grown his hair out like his father, except there was much more curl to his son’s hair, unlike his. He’d taken from his mother in that regard. Gold really hoped that Milah would not resist allowing Bae to take this trip on his own to meet his father.

After what seemed like ages of waiting for people to place their carry ons in the overhead bins, Gold was finally at his seat. This plane had two seats on either side of the aisle. It was quite small, and he had wished he’d convinced the company that provided Dr. Hopper with this winning trip to allow him to upgrade to first class.

The window seat was already occupied, and he looked carefully at his ticket. He did indeed have the aisle seat, which on the one hand helped because he could stretch out his bad ankle if he really needed to, but on the other hand he might have to get up over and over again if he had an annoying neighbor. He took his seat, took the newspaper out of his bag, and placed his bag underneath the chair. He put his seatbelt on and settled in with the folded newspaper in his lap. It read: June 1st, 1983. At least he was able to get today’s paper at the airport.

“Good Morning, Mr. Gold.” He started, and turned in the direction of the voice. The Australian accent was unmistakable. He knew this person. She was from Storybrooke as well. The daughter of the local florist. 

“Ms. French, I didn’t expect to see you here. Good Morning.” He was, in fact, quite taken aback. Truth be told she often took his breath away, especially when he ran into her unexpectedly in town. There were times when he knew he might see her: at Granny’s Diner for breakfast or lunch, at the library where she worked, at her father’s shop, or even in his shop, when she would stop by looking for rare books or tea sets. However, this was something else entirely. He’d never imagined running into here on a plane of all places, and looking as lovely as ever. She was dressed in bright yellow flower patterned sundress, and her sunglasses were perched on top of her head. Her  brown hair fell in waves, covering her bare shoulders.

“Didn’t Archie tell you I’d be going on this trip too?”

“Oh no, he failed to mention that. I… I didn’t realize that the two of you were together.” The last bit somehow made it out of his mouth instead of staying in his thoughts.

“Oh, no… we aren’t.” She reached out and touched his hand, and he tried not to react in any way. “We were just going as friends, since I was there at Granny’s and encouraged him to enter the contest. It was for up to four guests. Ruby and Billy were going to come too, but it didn’t work out.”

“I see… well I’m probably not going to be as good company as your friends…”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Mr. Gold. I always enjoy chatting with you.”

He managed to smile back at her. “I enjoy our talks as well, Ms. French.” She smiled back at him and leaned back in her chair. 

“Archie mentioned that your son might be joining us?”

For a moment, Gold was angry with Dr. Hopper for mentioning his son, but Belle was so very sweet in how she inquired that he relaxed immediately.

“Yes, I’m hoping his mother will allow him to make the trip on his own. He’s fourteen now, and I think he can manage. I’m supposed to call them when we land and make sure he will be joining me.”

“Oh I’m sure he will come. He’ll enjoy visiting Disney World too! So many rides. This is my first time visiting, but I did go to DisneyLand once when I was his age. I loved it.”

They mostly spent the flight in companionable silence. She read her book and he read the paper, commenting on interesting things they read. As they left their seats to exit the plane, Belle reached up to retrieve her carry on. Gold thought for a moment, how best to help her with his bad leg hindering him. Before he could come up with a solution, a tall lad reached up and took her bag down for her. She thanked him politely and Gold allowed her to move ahead of him as they exited the plane. He tried not to glare at the young man behind him.

*****

They shared a cab to the hotel and stepped up to different desks to check in. Gold made sure to request an adjoining room for Bae who would be arriving in the early evening as per his ex-wife’s assurances. Belle and Gold parted ways after check in, with Belle heading up just ahead of him. When he arrived at his room, he set up his luggage and looked around. It wasn’t bad. They had set them up at the Contemporary, which was quite nice, and had easy access to the Magic Kingdom park. The rooms were higher end than Gold had expected from a trip that was not paid for by the guests. Gold’s room had two double beds and a balcony with a theme park view. The concierge assured him that they would have a wonderful view of the fireworks. Gold discovered the door to the adjoining room and decided to take a look at Bae’s room and make sure all was well before he arrived. 

He opened the door and nearly fell back into his room. He had to steady himself with his cane. He hadn’t opened the door to an empty room, as he had expected. Instead, he had barged in on Belle, who was unpacking her luggage and laying out her clothes onto the bed. He had, unfortunately, arrived just in time to see her holding up her nightgown, which was practically see through, and definitely more suited for Florida heat than the cooler weather in Maine.

“I’m so… so sorry,” he stammered, as Belle stared at him with a mixture of surprise and what he thought was amusement. He felt flushed with embarrassment, and that never happened to him. She placed the nightgown on the bed, and put her hands on her hips. “I thought this was going to be empty. I had requested an adjoining room for my son…”

“It’s OK, I think I understand what happened.” Belle said, gently. “You need to remember that you and I are on the same vacation. You requested an adjoining room, but the trip was originally intended for a family vacation. One room for the adults, and the other for the kids.” She beckoned him inside. He took a few steps in, feeling very awkward, and hoping he didn’t show it at all. He normally didn’t betray his emotions, but with Belle, it was different.

Belle’s room had a large king sized bed, and the same balcony and view. “I see. So this must be the room they had intended for the adults, and I have...” he turned to indicate the open door to the other room.

“The kids room,” Belle chuckled. “Do you want this room? I don’t mind.”

“No, no. I’ll see if I can change things around. May, I?” he indicated the room’s telephone, and Belle nodded.

After a five minute long conversation with the concierge he gave up.

“No other rooms. Cheerleader convention.” That time, Belle laughed out loud, heartily 

“Bae and I can share my room. It’s quite alright. We have two beds. I had hoped to give him his own room, but this will be fine…”

“Thank you, Mr. Gold.”

“Not at all. I’m sorry to have barged in this way. I hope you know that I didn’t intend to interrupt--” he indicated all of the clothes on the bed.

“I didn’t mind.” She smiled at him, somewhat flirty, though Gold was sure that was his imagination. He had imagined that kind of thing on more than one occasion in their past interactions, and he always immediately admonished himself. Belle was not someone that would be interested in him. She was a beautiful, kind, intelligent, PhD student, who could find someone much better suited for her. And someone closer to her age too. He was a good fifteen years her senior. He shouldn’t even entertain the thought.

*****

Belle was done changing into her comfortable clothes for the evening. She had decided to stay at the hotel and order in, perhaps watch the fireworks from the balcony, and then get an early start in the morning. She thought that she might ask Mr. Gold and his son if they wanted to visit the parks together, but she hadn’t decided on whether she would be intruding or not. The thing was that she was quite excited to have found herself in this situation. She had always had a bit of a crush on Mr. Gold, ever since she had arrived in Storybrooke after Grad School. It was over three years already, and while she’d had a couple of boyfriends, no one ever really kept her interest. Of course, she knew he was quite a few years older than her, but she never paid much attention to that sort of thing. She was a grown woman who could go out with whomever she wanted. She was getting ahead of herself. Even though she had a feeling that he returned her interest, she wasn’t certain. Still, seeing how he blushed earlier gave her a little bit of hope. 

There was a knock at her door. Perhaps it was Mr. Gold calling? She opened the door and took a peek through the crack. It was a boy, a teenager, slightly taller than she was, with tousled brown hair. This had to be Bae! “Hello!” she greeted him.

“I’m sorry, I think I must have the wrong room.” He looked down at some wrinkled papers in his hand. 

“You must be Bae!”

The boy looked surprised at first, but recovered quickly. “I like Neal better, actually. My parents just call me Bae. It’s a nickname.”

“For Baelfire, I know. It’s your middle name. Your dad told me. He’s going to be so happy to see you. He’s been looking forward to it so much.”

Neal looked like he was trying to process everything. He was still standing outside the room and he looked like he was trying to peer inside. “Is my dad staying with you?” he asked slowly, uncertainly.

Belle smiled at him and responded coyly, “Yes, and no. He’s next door. I’ll let him explain it to you.” She put her arm on his shoulder and led him toward Mr. Gold’s room. Neal knocked on the door and it was a moment before Gold appeared and smiled so broadly that Belle was certain she’d never seen him look so happy. 

“Bae!”

Neal hugged his father tightly, “It’s Neal now, Papa. Remember?” He was smiling when he pulled away. 

“I’ll let you two get reacquainted,” Belle said. “Have a good evening.”

“Nice meeting you… I”m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“Oh forgive me! It’s Belle. Nice meeting you too, Neal.” She waved goodbye and went back to her room, feeling very happy for Mr. Gold.

*****

“So she isn’t your girlfriend?” Neal asked, for the second time. He was sprawled out on one of the double beds, clicking through the channels on the TV.

“Bae, I’ve already answered that question.” He looked up over the large map of the Magic Kingdom park that he was analyzing. He was determined that his son have a good time on this vacation.

“Are you sure, though?” 

Gold folded the map in half and gave his son an exasperated look. “Of course I’m sure, Bae.”

“Well then, I’m pretty sure she wants to be your girlfriend.”

Gold sighed. This was getting a bit out of hand.

“She likes you, Dad. Mom says I have a 6th sense about these kinds of things. I always know who is going to end up dating at school before they do.” Neal sat up on the bed. “Don’t you think she’s pretty?”

“Of course, but that’s besides the point. She wouldn’t be interested in me, and that’s a fact.”

Neal laughed. “Trust me, Dad. She likes you.”

“Can we please change the subject?” Gold asked, wearily.

“Sure. I think we need to discuss something else. You aren’t going to go to the parks in a suit every day, are you?” Neal pointed at the suits hanging in the closet.

Gold suddenly found himself at a loss for words. He hadn’t considered that at all, but he had nothing else with him. “It’ll be fine, Bae.” He was trying to reassure himself, as much as Bae.

“No way, Dad. I’m going to get Belle to back me up on this one.” Before Gold could stop him, Neal was up out of bed and knocking on the door to the connecting room.

It took all of one minute for Belle to open the door curiously.

“Belle you have to tell my dad that he can’t wear his usual clothes to the parks. He’s going to melt.”

Belle laughed at the colorful expression. “I don’t think he’d melt exactly, but he’d probably be very uncomfortable. You don’t have anything more suitable for the hot weather and for all the walking?” 

She directed the question to Gold, and he shook his head, lamely. She turned back to Neal. “You know what you have to do then,” she said, solemnly. “You have to take him shopping. There are many shops in this hotel, and they all will still be open. Why don’t you two go shopping and before you go we can decide on something for dinner. I’ll order it while you two are out, and by the time you get back the food will be here for you.”

Gold couldn’t deny that this sounded like a good idea, and it made him feel so very good to have Belle helping him navigate this situation. 

*****

Over dinner it was decided that the three of them would go to the Magic Kingdom park together. Gold was dressed in a white t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Neal had tried to get him into a pair of shorts, but it wasn’t happening. It was going to look odd enough limping around with his silver tipped cane in that outfit. Not nearly as dignified as when wearing a suit. Both Belle and Bae wore tank tops, and shorts, and they slathered on the sunscreen. Belle made sure to give Gold some too, and she even rubbed some on the bridge of his nose before he could protest. 

They spent the day together going on various rides. Gold was glad that Belle was with them. Occasionally, he would sit out on some of the rides and she would go with Bae. They went on Space Mountain, and the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad together. They all went on the Mad Tea Party ride, even though it made Gold a bit queasy. Pirates of the Carribean was amusing, and they were able to ride that one together. Both Belle and Bae grabbed onto him when the ride suddenly dropped in the dark. By the time they went on the Haunted Mansion ride, Neal had made some young friends from the cheerleader convention. Belle and Gold ended up alone in the same car, and Belle held onto his hand the entire time, alternating being thrilled, spooked, and fascinated by the ride. 

By the evening the three of them functioned almost like a little family. That’s what it felt like to Gold, and he would be very sad when this trip was over and they went back to their regular lives. Neal had wanted them to stay in line for Peter Pan’s Flight, but Gold had asked to sit that one out. Belle offered to keep him company while Neal went with his newfound friends. It was getting close to the hour of the fireworks display and the park was emptying out in certain areas, as people gathered to watch the show. Many of the rides had shorter lines for that reason, so he hoped that Neal wouldn’t be too long and they would be able to find a spot to watch the fireworks show. 

Belle led him to a bench near a running fountain. This section of the park was quieting down as the crowds moved towards Cinderella’s Castle. The sound of the fountain was soothing after the long day. They sat together for a bit, and Belle slipped her hand in his. It wasn’t the first time that day, or the second, or the third. Gold had been trying very hard not to read into it, but it was difficult not to. Belle had been very close to him all day. He also had been behaving in a more familiar manner with her. Something was changing, or perhaps it was something finally coming to light.

“Mr. Gold. I have a confession to make.”

Gold swallowed hard.  “Oh?” He tried to sound more curious than nervous.

“I like you very much. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have liked you for a very long time.”

“I like you too, Ms. French. You’re very good company.”

“Please call me Belle. I’ve asked you before.” 

“Yes, Belle. I’m sorry. Old habits…”

“You do understand what I’m saying, don’t you?” She took her hand and placed it on his cheek, making him face her.

“I do, I just don’t quite believe it.”

“I’ve enjoyed this day so much, haven’t you?”

He nodded.

“I want to have more days like this, where we get to spend time together, because I think you like me just as much as I like you.”

She was gently stroking his cheek. “Am I correct?”

He remembered Neal’s words from last night: “She likes you, Dad” and wondered if she’d overheard them. He had felt the connection between them all throughout this trip, but he refused to believe it. He wasn’t going to deny it anymore. “Belle French, I like you very much indeed.” 

She sighed in relief, and smiled. “Mr. Gold, I’d like to kiss you now.”

“Under one condition,” he said, smiling. “You have to stop calling me Mr. Gold.”

“Deal,” she said, and leaned forward. He met her half way and they shared a sweet, gentle kiss. He pulled back, and gauged her reaction. She didn’t seem like she wanted him to move too far, and pulled him back for a deeper kiss.

“Dad! Come on we’re going to miss the… fireworks… show…” Neal stopped in front of them, out of breath from having run over from the ride nearby. His jaw hung open, and it took him a moment to recover. He clapped and pointed at his father. “I told you, Dad! I know about this stuff! Since you guys are busy, is it ok if I head over with my friends? I can meet you back here.”

“You can go on ahead, but not too far, we’ll be right behind you,” Belle said, and pulled Gold up from his seat. She linked her arm with his and they followed Neal as he met up with his friends just up the path. 

“When we get back to Storybrooke, would you like to go to dinner with me?” Gold asked.

Belle chuckled. “Most definitely yes. Maybe we can have some fireworks in Storybrooke too,” she teased, and squeezed his arm. 

Instead of being taken aback this time, he teased in return, “I think it is quite likely after that last display.” She leaned in closer, and the fireworks went off above the castle. The crowd around them cheered, and music played through the speakers around them. They walked arm in arm and found a spot near Neal and his new friends. They were pointing and marveling at the display. Belle leaned against him as they watched, and Gold had a sudden feeling of gratitude towards Dr. Hopper. He really did do him a big favor.

The End.

#lotus0kid #rumbelle christmas in july #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rumbelle fanfic #rcij 2020 #my fics #my stuff #unexpected

[of-princes-and-savages]

In The Garden

For @maddermyth! (The rest of the story is at Ao3!) A Merry Christmas In July to you giftee!

______________________________________________________________

The sun shone cheerfully behind cottony clouds, outlining them in silver. Patches of azure peeked through the fluffy white, and beneath this gorgeous sky was an equally gorgeous garden. A sizeable swath of neatly trimmed grass that gave the air a clean, green scent that mingled with an abundance of blooming roses.

Of course there were other plants. Along one side of the tall wooden privacy fence circling the garden was a small, well-kept garden of herbs and a few vegetables. Two tall tomato plants covered with green and yellowed fruits, a pedestal holding a strawberry pot bursting with green leaves and ripening berries. There was a trellis growing cucumbers vertically, which was an even more interesting sight than the concrete crocodile creeping underneath a rosemary bush.

But the roses were truly the gardener's passion. They were everywhere.

They flowered in merry pink on the neatly-trimmed hedge running along the other side of the privacy fence. Tiny white roses glowing from the shadows where they had overtaken an arching trellis, from within what appeared to be a cave of overgrown shrubs and evergreens, the entrance to a forgotten sylvan kingdom. Beside a ceramic birdbath was, somehow, a yellow rose tree, supported by a wooden stake and bursting with lemon-colored flowers.

In the center of the garden, though, were dark red, bright orange, and snow-white ones, all clustered together in a riot of colors. They were arranged in a tight circle around the stout grey base of a...gargoyle.

An enormous gargoyle.

Counting the pointed wings stretching high over it's hunched body, it could have been as tall as Belle herself. It was made of weathered cast stone, molded to a block that made certain it wasn't going anywhere. The face was somewhere between canine and feline, with short pointed ears and a short snout open in a fanged grimace. It had wide, peering eyes beneath a heavy, scrunched brow and a chain around it's neck holding a shield, or perhaps a crest, that was as big as a serving platter.

The roses were beautiful, the weather was lovely, but the bizarre choice of statuary was what stuck with Belle when she woke up with her alarm screeching in her ear.

It looked like it should have been on top of a slightly sinister church, or a well-preserved Victorian manor. Not nestled among the roses in someone's garden.

In a way, though, Belle was glad for it. It gave her something to mull over while she checked the weather as she set her kettle on the stove and prepared a bowl of instant oatmeal to see her through to lunch. Her friends in college used to think it was weird, or gross, that she made her oatmeal with water instead of milk, but it was Grocery Day and there wasn't any left in the fridge.

Thursday was Grocery Day, and this week it was also Trash Day.

Tomorrow on Friday night, Belle would come home and order take-out for dinner, alternating between three dishes from a well-worn Chien-Po's menu, and get her laundry together for the next day.

Saturday was her day off, when she did her laundry in the basement of her apartment building. But first thing in the morning, she'd walk to the bakery down the street for something sugary and carb-heavy for her breakfast. She also dished out a little tuna for her cat as a treat.

Sunday she slept in until noon if possible...

Belle was keenly aware that she was in a rut.

It wasn't a bad rut, exactly. She had a number of friends, she loved her job at Old World Publishing, and Odin was far from the worst roommate she'd ever had. Her father seemed to think his only daughter was nearing a life of spinsterly destitution with the risk of becoming a crazy cat lady as well, but as for herself, Belle was content.

In the past year, she had attended a wedding, a baby shower, Anna got engaged, Merida had run the full Pine Tree Marathon in Portland, (without throwing up, which she'd done the year before,) and Ruby finished her degree online, complete with a graduation party hosted in her hometown. It had been a good year. And Belle was happy for all of her friends, enjoyed celebrating all the changes in their lives, but...she'd just sort of attended the same year. Nothing changed for her.

For the last five years, Belle had lived in this apartment. She'd been ordering Friday night takeout since college. The last lifestyle change she'd made was adopting Odin, a grey cat who was overlooked at the shelter because he only had one eye. And really, nothing had changed that much because he was a lazy lump of fur.

In a way, she wondered if perhaps she had dreamed of a beautiful garden with a bizarre bit of statuary simply because she was so bored with her daily routine. She'd read somewhere that gardens were supposed to be symbolic of...of something, but she couldn't recall what.

She could look it up on her lunch break maybe.

____________________________________________________________

It was very common for an author to stick with the same editor for the length of their career. An editor could serve different purposes, some had assistants who read through the manuscripts so they could work on other aspects of the job. Making sure the author met their deadlines, keeping in touch with the other forces necessary to publish a book, making sure the finished produce was clear to the readers. And getting almost no credit for it.

Belle didn't mind this too much. In college she'd been part of a few group projects where she was seemingly the only one working. It wasn't unlike that, only this time, she was being paid.

Old World Publishing was a good company, Belle enjoyed working there. Admittedly she had read more bad manuscripts than good ones, and had come across a few authors who thought her advice and criticisms weren't valid because she was a tiny brunette with a feminine name. But those were just a hazard of the job.

None had ever been the ass that Isaac Heller was.

Belle was largely an editor of fantasy books. Slightly unusual ones. Things like a vampire clan attending college, Georgian-era steampunk, the criminal fairy underworld. Her friend Merida had theorized that Belle got the "weird ones" because she had the people skills to understand the vision the authors had, and help the ones with actually good stories make them happen.

She could only assume that was why someone higher up the company ladder had decided to match Belle with Isaac Heller after his former editor died.

Alan Prentiss was a kindly, older gentleman who had a vaguely Santa-like appearance, with his bushy white beard and red sweaters. He'd died quite suddenly at home, and was missed by his coworkers dearly. Unfortunately, he hadn't left behind instructions on how to work with his most arrogant and weasel-faced client.

As a crime-fiction writer, Heller wasn't terrible. He'd had a good gimmick where his intrepid detectives all solved crimes based loosely on fairytales. The Second Glass was based on Cinderella, The Real Boy was based on Pinocchio, and so on. The last few entries in the series weren't as favorably reviewed, ever since he'd tried shaking things up by murdering a key character in The Wicked Game.

Maybe that was why he was trying something new, a full-on fantasy novel based on the story of Snow White entitled Snow White: Black Heart.

Trying was an operative word. In more than one sense.

"I know it's a different take, but that's the intention." Heller had explained blithely. Not all her clients came to her office, mostly she kept in touch by email and phone, but Heller had been with Old World Publishing for six years or so and he lived in the city. It also made it easier to negotiate when you could see his weasel-face and his varying smirks in person. Such as the overly proud one he wore right now.

"The pure princess and her evil stepmother? It's been done to death." He gave a careless wave of his hand. "Boring. Stale. Now, an evil Snow White? That's groundbreaking, entirely original."

"Well...that is a different take." Belle conceded. "But Mr. Heller, I wouldn't call it groundbreaking."

Heller continued on as if she hadn't said anything at all. "Princesses are representative of new beginnings and hope, queens represent the old guard and the corruption therein. It's a classic generational conflict issue, really overdone in my opinion but I've made it my own. Telling the story from the queen's perspective as she watches the princess slowly become a jealous, vengeful creature, you could say I've upcycled the dry old story in to something fresh."

Belle waited until it appeared Heller was finished explaining how smart he was. "But nothing really changes. Snow White is villainous, the queen is a poor victim, but Snow White still wins and the queen still dies."

"That's exactly the point! It's a subtle subversion, the victory of a traditionally good character over a traditionally evil one, but clearly reversed in moral standing. The bad guys win."

And on it went.

Belle would try to explain that having a villainous character win wasn't necessarily a problem, but it was a terribly boring journey to read about since the queen had no allies or purpose beyond being a victim. Heller would then explain why Belle just wasn't looking deep enough in to his character motivations. And wouldn't explain what they were because he believed in show, don't tell.

Rather than re-explain that she, his editor, needed to be told, not shown, how certain things played out, she changed the subject to another issue.

And on it went.

Eventually Belle came to a weak point in the book that might, when reinforced, offer some hope. The seven dwarves, (evil of course,) had joined forces with Snow White because she promised to repeal certain laws the queen put in place that disadvantaged their evil plans. It was briefly touched on that they had a feud with the dark fairies, that there was a manipulative Blue Fairy out there who had helped Snow White kill her father and frame the queen for murder, but it was never fully explained. Perhaps if it were fleshed out a bit more, the story might be more compelling?

"Oh, I can't do that."

Belle felt a throb somewhere deep in her brain. "And why not?"

Heller gave her a purely condescending smile that suggested she was a six-year-old playing grown-up behind an office desk. Or had asked a professor  of advanced mathematics what a plus sign looked like. "They have a much larger role to play. If I reveal too much, there won't be much of an impact in the sequels."

And on it went...

#Rumbelle Christmas in July #rcij 2020 #Rumbelle #my fic

[celticheartedfangirl]

Birthday Girl by CelticHeartedFangirl PART ONE

A Rumbelle Christmas in July 2000 gift for @avatoh

Hello, avatoh! I decided on a birthday theme because my birthday is this weekend. I haf a hard time with writing so I decided to do a Rumbelle Sims storyboard instead. Hope you like this!

It's Belle's birthday, and Rumple has been planning a romantic day for her .....

Rumple: Pick out whatever you like, Belle.

Belle: Oh, Rumple, thank you!

As Belle admires her new trinkets, Rumple is up to something .....

Belle: Rumple, what are you doing?

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

#rumbelle christmas in july #avatoh #rcij 2020 #rumbelle

[peacehopeandrats]

Rumbelle In July

As I have now officially posted the first chapter of my gift to @mariequitecontrarie, I am going to repost the asks I sent. We had a time communicating with each other over this month and so I tried to save everything I sent regarding the creation of each chapter.

Mountains, Streams, And Magical Things

Summary: Rumplestiltskin is a king of the magical world who collects magical things for a single purpose, but not all of them are as useful as he hopes they could be. When one of those useless items from the Enchanted Forest causes trouble in Storybrooke it changes the lives of everyone it touches, including the Dark One himself.

Notes: Written for MarieQuiteContrarie for Rumbelle Christmas In July.

The prompts given were: love, light, vacation, shine, breathless. I was also given the following further prompt in conversation: "I love Rumbelle both in Storybrooke and in the Dark Castle. ... I love when they bond with other characters and develop friendships outside of the two of them. I love fluff and sweetness and the two of them solving problems together and being on equal footing."

I ended up writing a chapter for each prompt and hopefully captured everything that was hoped for. The story title and chapter titles come from Mountain Stream by Cowboy Junkies, which I have always thought was very Rumbelle, so I guess you could call this one of my music video style fics, just in a very long form.

As with all of my fics, this one fits in to the one story line and is a sort of prequel to Growing Up.

#rcij 2020 #rcij #rcij gift #rumbelle #jefferson #grace #friendships #adventure #mountain stream #cowboy junkies #music fic #rumbelle christmas in july #mountains streams and magical things

[killingkueen]

Hello! I'm not on anon this time! It's your RCIJ backup Santa, here to tell you that your gift fic has finally been posted! I tagged you, but if you didn't get the tag, it should be near the top of my blog. Happy reading!

Ah hello! If tumblr won’t tell me when I’m tagged, at least it’ll tell me when I have an ask 🙄

Thank you so much, I’m excited to read it 😊⭐️

#santa baby #rcij 2020

[thestraggletag]

Hello again! Both of your requests are great. I was already thinking of going with Belle, not Lacey, and I was going to ask if you'd be okay with me giving it a happy ending instead. So that works out well! I've watched the film now and I've definitely got an idea for where to take the fic. In terms of other characters, are there any OUAT characters you'd particularly like to see, or any you definitely don't want?

So glad we’re on the same page, Santa! I didn’t want to impose anything but I was hoping you’d like my requests. As far as other characters I don’t really have favourites. I do love Tilly, Charming as Gold’s bro and Ruby in general. I usually don’t like Zelena, at least not in big doses. But frankly you can make lots of characters in OUAT work in AUs. Emma, who I deeply dislike in canon, can be a great character for an AU, for example. So it’s mostly up to you. Hope this helps!

#RCIJ 2020 #Anonymous

[xxxrushbellexxx]

Ummm hi I just came here to say... *ahem* that uhh..... I ABSOLUTELY LOVE ALL THE RCIJ FICS I HAVE BEEN STALKING AND READING AND I LOVE THEM ALL AND NEVER EVER STOP PLEASE AND THANK YOU!!!!!

OkThankYouForYourTimeBye.

#rumbler #rumbelle #ouat #rumple #oncer #once upon a time #rcij 2020 #rumbelle christmas in july #im loving them

[mariequitecontrarie]

Hello Dearie,

Your secret gifter here to give you a taste of your July sweetness.

Enjoy!

#Rumbelle #submission #rcij 2020 #marie’s secret gifter #thank you so much!

[maddermyth]

RCIJ 2020

Prompt: Not looking for love.

A/N: Hi @joylee56, thank you for your prompt, it has been fun writing to you each week. I’m sorry for the delay, I grossly underestimated the extent of the story and overestimated my time management skills. I must admit this is my first time writing fanfiction and there was no beta (so right now I’m crossing my fingers to even get this posted correctly), but regardless of this I hope you like and enjoy it. Thanks for your patience and for the inspiration amidst these weird times.

Rating: T there’s some imagery some would consider violent but nothing really significant.

------

Unholy Requests

Night

There was a dead body on the floor. 

A man, his body in an obviously uncomfortable position, laid on a carpet that had seen better days. By all accounts tall and big, in a bodybuilding kind of way. Belle would bet that to most he must have looked attractive: blue eyes, dark hair, expensive if questionable taste in clothes. 

And she had killed him.

If asked how a woman of 5”5 (including heels, and they were quite high) had killed such a man, she wouldn’t know how to answer. To be honest, Belle couldn't remember how it had happened, she just knew it had been her. Guilt more than shock had frozen her at the sight the first time, but after a month of seeing variations of the same tableau everytime she closed her eyes, she was frustrated at the lack imagination of her dreams, or was it her brain’s stubbornness? Luckily it appears there’s no blood in the scene this time. She didn’t recognise the cabin where this always took place, and had never the opportunity to explore it since that first dream, but she was grateful this particular dream didn’t involved cleaning it as well. It had happen once.

“What now, dearie?”

Since the dreams started there were three people in them: herself, the dead body and for a reason she hadn’t figured out, the town’s landlord. Admittedly she had recently moved to Storybrooke and apart from the introductory batch of gossip that welcomed her, and taught her who was who in the small town, there were an alarming number of warnings against the infamous man. That he was a loan shark (not unfeasible since apparently many owed him money), soulless (had a no extension policy on rent, and was to anyone’s opinion a yerk for following it, the rumour about trying to evict the convent was always the main piece of evidence), possibly in the mob (inspired by his choice of clothes and frankly that sounded ridiculous, she quite admired his sense of fashion). However, the man himself seem to feed the rumour mill. From the way he dressed, to turning his pawnshop into his lair, dark and full of treasures people exchanged when desperately needing money. Owning more than half of the town, residential and commercial units,  he still make rounds on foot, and on complicated situations he even had a man for muscle Mr Dove. 

Belle thought it was some kind of apprehension born out of so many whispers that had made the man feature in the murder scene that repeatedly appeared in her dreams. But it didn’t fit, for all the town talked she couldn’t summon fear or nervousness the times she had cross words with the man. Admittedly, most of them were at the library with in either with family or doing some favour or other for them, it was hard to see the soulless aspect of his being then. As if her brain wanted to challenged her statement on dullness, as the dreams continued the same, the man himself started to transform. The only trace of imagination in her dreams had turned the man into a reptilian humanoid, even his clothes had changed, dressed now in leather and high boots. His eyes darker and larger than any human, scales in his skin sometimes reflection in greenish or golden hues depending on the light, and talons. It could be a shocking image and certainly she could imagine his renters running from him in that look, but the changes had happen so gradually that Belle could only wonder were the inspiration for it had come from.

With a weary sigh, because it was always the same: he would ask a mere formality and to encourage her to move, she wouldn’t wake up until the body was disposed, and the cabin would supply whatever they needed to get the job done, in some manner or other, it didn’t have to be neat and the golden skinned landlord always helped, but all the same, it wasn’t restful. She would wake up the following day tired, with aching arms and back… eyeing the pair of shovels laid behind the door she said, “We could try bury him in the garden this time.”

Morning

It was a mistake. He had been making many of those recently, but this one was a simple one to avoid and yet here he was. For weeks now Neal and Emma had had a rough time balancing work and a small child, so he had offered to take his grandson for a weekend and given them the keys to the cabin in the woods. The boy had a sweet tooth and it was Sunday, a trip to Granny’s had seemed like the perfect idea.

Since his son and now wife moved to town, the image of the impassive Mr.Gold, owner of most property in town, nemesis of the town mayor, loan shark and heartless landlord had taken a mortal wound, especially since four months after that his grandson Henry had been born. But years of people fearing him were working in his favour, even when he had his grandson by his side people still gave him a wide breadth. Today though, Miss Lucas had greeted him with a smirk on her face and a knowing look that had hunted him since he crossed the door. “Unusually early for a Sunday, Gold.” 

“If you don’t want customers this early you should reconsider opening hours.” He said with as much indifference as he could, strangely it took him some effort. “And miss my favourite customer? No.” There was that look again. “She is one of the few that rises with the sun regardless of the day, but of course you know that.” Oh. That's what this is about. Since Regina had the magnificent idea that the library was to reopen, he had opposed her. It took no more than the right thing said here and there before any council meeting. She knew of the intricate maze of mines that ran under the town, and knew that it was the safest place to keep his, and even some of hers, more unusual experiments. It’s secrecy and its contents one way or another benefited someone in town. That’s why they had agree to sealed the mines in the first place, with only one access point located in the town clock building, inside the library. However, a Belle French had arrived four months ago in the ship of Mrs. Finn. He didn’t pay attention to her, apparently she was a tourist, as rare the sight was in Storybrooke. But Regina had. And at some point Miss French decided to stay and become the librarian. He had try to put a stop on that but it was to late. He had made the mistake of making everyone aware of how much he loaded the idea. And then, he had meet the young woman, chatted with her whenever his found a solid excuse to into the library. The fight to close the building had since then remained restricted to paperwork. And that was unusual for him. And apparently, someone like the wolf-girl had decided to mock him for it. He must have let his face react because her smile only grew. “The usual? And extra blueberry pancakes for little Henry, after all he’s such an excellent wingman.” 

Either it was the implication that he was using his grandson somehow or that even though he enjoyed his time with Henry like nothing else, his reason to be there in the heart of town instead of his home spoiling his grandson was so easy to see, the comment rattled him more than he was ready to admit. And even though he was at the edge of leaving, he reminded himself everytime the over entitled waitress looked at him with the same smirk in her face, that he couldn’t let her win. It was still too early, they could avoid her (yes, it was now a team effort with Henry) and the wolf-girl would be set to right, or she still could come into the dinner and make the mortifying comment worthy.

Five minutes after their order arrived, and with his attention on trying to keep Henry from turning his breakfast into a Pollock piece, his cell phone rang. “Gold.”

“Hi pops!” a little too cheerful voice greeted. “Neal? Is everything alright?”

“Well... a couple of your friends had no idea of our ‘weekend far from the world’ plan and broke into the cabin.” Neal answered with a patient tone. “Something about needing a place to do an experiment?” In the background the distinct noises of Jefferson moving around the kitchenette could be heard. “Emma is trying to keep Jeff from settling in as he now thinks we need breakfast.” 

“Just send them to the store. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Meddling fools. After hearing a door close in the other side of the call, his son said “They wanted me to call you, you know?” A sight left him, after noticing the call had distracted him from paying attention to Henry’s anctics.“Their great talent is to pretend to be idiots, I bet they wanted to get through to me in the most effective way. Sorry son.”

“It’s ok, dad. Just keep them busy and happy until tomorrow? Probably give them their own lab, one of those storage units at the edge of the docks, huh? Where they can play and have fun.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Too close to the surface and to drunk sailors, that particular idea was discarded some time ago.  “I’ll keep them away. You just send them out and enjoy your day”.

After hanging up and turning his full attention back to the toddler, Gold was glad of his foresight of having a change of clothes for both himself and the boy in the back of the store. “You’re going to help me with those two, right?”

---

“Bluebell!” 

Hurrying down main street Belle stopped at the unusual nickname, there was only one person that called her that. Looking at her watch, still not too late Ruby was still on her shift, she headed to the two figures currently shadowing the front of the pawnshop.

“Jefferson, Dr. Whale.” Bear hug from one, and hand shake from the other. “Glad to see you again. How was the trip?”

“Successful if hours exploring are counted.” Answered the young man with a smirk and a wide movement of his hands. “Alas, not so much if the treasure had to be found.” 

“It was a waste of time.” While Jefferson had a flare for the dramatics, Whale drifted towards a general disposition of antiphaty. The later did a great job at not rolling his eyes constantly at whatever the first said. It was in itself an entertaining performance.

“That only means we’ll have to go away again and we took plenty of photos.” Said Jefferson with a boyish smile and already taking his phone out. “Want to see?” 

“I would love to, but I’ve got to get to the dinner.” She had taken to drop on early Sundays at Granny’s to have breakfast with Ruby. She’ll get worried soon.

“Has my favourite librarian replaced me already?”

“Madder, she is the only one in about a decade.” Belle still could not believe the library had been left abandoned for so long, not that it had been in as good as state considering once she started preparing it for opening.

Jeff did roll his eyes at that, “Still my favourite.” 

“Bet you already made friends in town.” the unusual small talk comment from Whale came with a look she couldn’t quite place.

“Since Ariel and you guys abandoned me as soon as we touched shore, I’ve had to look for alternatives.” Deep in her pocket her cell phone beeped. “Speaking of, if I don’t get to the dinner soon Ruby is going to think I’ve dropped dead or something. See you later. I’ll hold you on to it Jeff, to tell me all about this trip of yours.” “You have my word.” He swore with a hand over his heart and a seriousness to his expression, as she started to walk away. “Come for tea soon and I’ll tell you all about the places we visited.” He shouted after her.

Looking back with a smile at the comment, she fail to notice someone was exiting the dinner in time to stop, until a gentle hand held her at the upper arm. Startled, she turned her head back to come face to face with… well, literally the man in her dreams, and until the day before she hadn’t confide in anyone about that. His eyes though beautiful, were not the same, and was it weird that she missed in that moment those he sported at night?

“Oh, I'm so sorry Mr.gold.” Belle had to take a step back, noticing she had been staring. Avoiding the man’s eyes she noticed that he was carrying a very content and covered in food toddler. “Hello Henry, seems like you enjoyed breakfast today. Was Ruby in a good mood?”

“It seemed so.” The gruff tone of the answer had her looking back at the man’s face. No matter that the question was meant for the little boy, it seemed Ruby had been up to something. He seemed to realise then that it wasn’t a real question. “I- I mean like everyone else she looks tired but definitely entertained.” Was he blushing?

“It’s been nice to see you. I really have to leave you I’m already quite late but.. see you around.” She hadn’t meant for that to sound like a question. He nods, though. “Have a nice day Mr.Gold, Henry.”

“Good day, Miss French.”

 The tiny bell on the door, signaled her arrival. Quickly catching Ruby’s eye, she came to sit at one of the booths at the back. The dinner had quickly become a welcome sight in her short time in town. By now she could identified all those early visitors, a town routine that was more comforting than dull, perfect for people watching, until Ruby took her break.

At the bar, Leroy seem to still be drunk and happy telling a story animatedly to his brothers, who in turn seem more worried than anything else. A glass unceremoniously put on the table got her attention back to her friend. “Where have you been?” And she looked a little anxious, but it had been right, she look dead on her feet. “I was getting worried something had happened?”

“Good morning to you to Rubes. Got distracted.” Ignoring her friend’s look she explain. “After yesterday’s fiasco I went back to the library, do a little work, clean the back... and guess what?”

“Come on, just spill.” Ruby sat forward in the table, crossing her arms. A determined glint in her eye. “What happened? Did Pongo came to apologise to you in place of its owner?”

Her appointment with Dr. Hopper the day before had been a disaster. She had come to town, both as a break from her home but also because of the reputation of the man. He was known to be an expert at unlocking the human mind. She had been unfair with him, he had been doing his best and she too for months now but nothing had changed. She had decided to stay longer in town, and took on the job of temporarily put the library up and running. Yet,frustration had reached a high point the previous day. After a car accident with her mother, that left her motherless and with no memory of the entire week before, she had gone to more doctors and try even more therapies to remember that tragic day, that was recommended. And though the week had come, that day and the accident had yet to. Dr. Hopper was her last option, and he was failing.

“That’s not- It was my fault too. Archie was just doing his job, but it definitely wasn’t a good day for either of us.” If she was being honest, the man had also been at edge for whatever reason. It had motivated her to confrontation, a desire to fight still burning inside even now. “There was no need for apology delivering dogs. However, I was restless so I got to tamper with the old elevator in the library, and it works! I mean, I only got it to open last night so I went this morning and found a control panel.”

“Isn’t it like too old and dangerous? The library has been abandoned for years now, you remember all the work it took to make it presentable” Oh, she remembered and felt it for days afterwards.

“I know. But that’s why I went back today, inside there are just basic controls to go up and down, everything else is on the outside. And the panel seems functional but it needs a key to work.”

“A job for more than one.” she said nodding, a small frown forming. “And the mayor didn’t gave it to you along the ones for the library?”

“No, it wasn’t either with the ones for the apartment or the library clock. You should come with me when your shift is over, you are great at finding stuff.” Noting the way Ruby was sitting she added, “After you’ve taken a nap. You look like hell.”

“Gee, thanks. Yes, as much as I’d like to wake up Monday morning after trespassing into dangerous basements-”

“It isn’t that dangerous…”

“..I’d think you’ll have other plans for tonight. And in the meantime I get a proper rest.”

“What do you mean?

“There is an older gentleman waiting for you at the lounge, arrived late last night and lucky for him it was me and not granny’s turn on the B&B reception.” Slamming her hands to the table she started to get up. “Alright, take your iced tea and I’ll bring you your breakfast when it’s ready.” Since she was already waving her on, Belle got up from the booth and allowed herself to be guided to the hall between the dinner and the B&B. “Just move along, the man has been waiting long enough.”

The lounge was a small room with two sofas against the wall, facing towards an old looking TV on a small table. There was fruits and biscuits on the centre table. It was mostly empty but for a tall, large man sitting down in the corner of a sofa. He look small, hunched over his knees, but Belle would recognise him anywhere.

“Papa, what- how are you here?”

“Hello princess, not so happy to see your old man?” Looking up to her, she could see he had been having a hard time. He seemed paler, and older. His smile was honest but it didn’t reach far.

“Of course I’m happy, papa.” She said, coming into the lounge and hugging him, hard. After so long, and the nature of her parting, she hadn’t been aware of how much she missed him. Especially after the last couple of days, this was the best of visits. “Just surprised. I wasn’t expecting you here, least of all without notice. I almost imagined you coming back with Ariel in her sailing trip.”

“Oh, that would be dreadful.” Maurice French lost any trace of colour on his face at that.   “I’m not a man for the sea.” Guiding him to sit down, he took one of her hands in his. “I should have told you before but the flight messed with my notion of time and then it seemed better to just see you.”

“Are you ok? You look beyond jet-lagged, tell me you had a break before driving up here.”

With a sigh he let go of her hand, taking a sip of his coffee. “I did, petal.” Her father was acting weird, she knew he was stalling whatever he wanted to say. His hands kept turning the cup. “Things have changed.”

“I know…” Losing her mother had affected both, to a scale none of them were prepared to deal with. He retired from the company handing it to Gaston, and went to live in the countryside. That had felt as he had abandoned her, but she admitted she did the same, even before accepting Ariel’s invitation to come to Maine. She had spend weeks, chasing doctors, therapist, new methods, whatever clue to settle her amnesia. She could wait for it to happen naturally, even though many a person told her to have patience. Dr. Hopper was the last name in that list of options, and while her father had changed county, she had changed continent. And she knew there were no bad feelings, both agreed they were trying hard, in their own way to cope.

“Not just that. I was called into the office a couple weeks ago.” Softly he continued. “And I was just so ready to retire.”

“I thought you left Gaston in charge”.

“I did. But my girl, the fate is against us!” The booming voice of her father, startled her. A voice that was either happy in family occasions, or annoyed at work now had the taste of defeat. He looked so tired. “I missed you so much but by now I’m just happy you left. Not that I helped to make the decision a nice one.” It hadn't in any case an easy conversation.

“Don’t worry, papa. I understand why you said what you said. It wasn’t nice but I knew where they were coming from.” I wanted to tell you the same when you moved again, first.

“I hurt you. I forced you into marriage twice and one of those was just to keep you by my side. The thought of you going away, to America nonetheless so soon after your mother left us… As always, you made the right choice.”

“What happened?”

“Another bloody accident. Gaston crashed, apparently fell asleep while driving. Went into a coma but right before I came here he died. As soon as the crash happened I got called into the office again, there’s no one else prepared enough to handle the company at the moment, it was meant for him.” He looked up into her eyes at that. “You first, and since you refused it, him. It took me a while to get a break and come to tell you about it in person. I know you didn’t have the best relationship especially at the end but…”

“No, we didn’t. Still, that’s awful. And it doesn’t make sense, he was a freak with rules. He wouldn’t drive in that condition. Is someone with him?”

“His personal assistant, the man was half in love with him. And of course the company is going to cover the ceremony and burial. I’ll be in charge of that.”

“Good.” That’s all she could say, she knew she had to ask but she really didn’t want to listen to the answer. It had become easier to say no to her father, but not only had she missed him a lot, but she knew how much like a son he had loved Gaston. “Do you want me to go?”

“I’ve learned my lesson, princess. It’s your choice.”

---

“Our new librarian almost crashes into the dark lord of Storybrooke. Are you alright Gold?” At least he waited until he nearer the store to speak. Jefferson was his most talented hunter, he could find almost anything that he requested and bring objects he hadn’t considered. It was his talent what kept him in the job, but there were times Gold wondered if he was too patient with him.

“I’m perfectly fine.” Gold answered, moving his cane to the hand holding Henry. And unlocking the store’s door with the other. “But since you seem to be in a good mood I take it you found what I requested.”

“No such luck.” Answered Viktor. For the last past year it was the same answer. It was annoying but he couldn’t find it in himself to be truly bothered by now. Gold had resign himself to look for alternatives, yet they will require some time. If they could just locate this text, it all could be over by next month. “There was a trace, someone else that’s been looking for it but we hit a dead end soon enough.” 

“Almost literally.” Jefferson said, the little bell at the door marking the comment.

“So you failed and then claimed my attention by using my son, instead of just notifying me.” There was a small cot in the back room where he put Henry while going to find a change of clothes for the boy. “Don’t make me waste my time.”

“Actually, we want to try something different?” offered Viktor.

“We?” He knew what was coming, Dr. Whale and himself disagreed in method most of the time, moments like this led to a bet of sorts in which he currently hold the lead. Magic after all failed less than science.

“I want to try something different.” Oh, did he enjoyed the challenged in the eyes of the blond man.

“Do enlighten me.” 

“It’s possible we’ve been looking not in the wrong place but for the wrong thing.”

“Our deal is very specific.” He said with enough ice in his voice to remind the doctor that that wasn’t an option, his back to the man and back to the task of changing his grandson. In the background he could hear Jefferson looking for the scotch. He had the good manner of host, that one.

“Yes, I’ll help Jefferson locate this method Morpheus’ child used to become mortal. And in compensation I can run some tests on you.” Another mistake for the list, thought Gold. “And so far we have assumed is in a text, you said it had to be read aloud to be enacted.” He paused, giving him time to interfere. He has been learning Jefferson’s dramatics, that could be useful sometime. Turning his attention from Henry to the man Gold raised an eyebrow in questioning. “What if it is coded in another way?” the man continued. “Information hidden somewhere not in a physical object. After all, for everything we have learned we still have no clue of what Morpheus’ child was capable of.”

“You have an idea of where to look.” His grandson had grown since he bought the clothes, giving up on the jacket, he tried the sweater.

“More like a first place to tackle. The brain.” Done with Henry he turned his attention to the men, in time for Jefferson to handle him a glass, giving the doctor another. Gold nodded his thanks. “Your type is notoriously antagonistic of science, if the child wanted to hid the formula to turn divinity into humans it probably is where you don’t want to look or only reached by something you’d never use.”

“Dr. Whale are you telling me our next option is to go around opening skulls in search of some brains that do the trick.” Catching Jefferson’s eye he continued. “I never thought I’d lived to meet a zombie.”

“Brain activity while sleeping, not an outlandish idea let me assure you. However, since in the 24 hours I’ve been back, I’ve had people lining up in the street coming at me to help them deal with their insomnia...”

“Welcome to my existence.” 

“...I gather my best option, despite the atypical ancestry, are you.”

“As you have pointed out, I don’t particularly follow the same rules as you mortals. If there’s any information hidden in you, it most likely won’t be in me.”

“Do you dream?”

Usually, no. If he was honest with himself, he required less rest than most and when he decided to sleep it was a game of chance to dream something. However, the question gave him pause, because as of the last month he had been sleeping everyday and dreaming every time. It became an appointment, it felt now as its own small ritual. “Yes.”

“Then, what’s the harm in trying? It will be only one night. Although if you know of someone else that unlike the rest of the town can sleep for at least six hours undisturbed, we could try with them.” That’s not something he wanted the doctor to know.

“It’s hardly a request you can make out of thin air to anyone without having to explain something or other though, and those who would understand are affected by magic which by the same logic would affect the result.”

“Why do you think this would work?” Asked Jefferson, taking a seat on the main desk.

“The guy who was chasing after it, he got close and for unfortunate circumstances this type of monitoring took place. I just got lucky to take a peek at the results, unusual definitely not supporting of the diagnosis he was given.”

Give it to the man to be sneaky, any test was payment for his service, but he had promised it to Baelfire. Everything in order to fulfil his son’s only request. He had refused once upon a time, and resulted in decades of no contact. It was Emma and Henry existence that made his son sought him out. It was for them that Neal, as now he insisted to be called, had come back to ask for his help in ridding himself of his longevity, and subsequently the reason he was trying to give him another chance at being involved in his life as his father. And Gold could be honest, he didn’t want to do it, anymore than all those years ago. But Bae’s reasons made more sense now, and he had missed his son terribly. He promised, and if it meant giving into this man’s small victories he would play dumb. “When?”

“As soon as we get access to my lab.” There we go again. Their main lab, or at least the one where common projects was inaccessible at the moment. Since Regina had an unsuspected guard at the door. That left few options, either they involved the mayor and had access to the crypt, or they risked her knowing by going to the hospital, then there was Whale’s… “Your garage?” 

“Oh, that place is dreadful.” complained Jefferson. He had to agree.

“Not that one!” 

Whatever the doctor had going on in his home lab was a sore topic, everytime the man spoke about it there was emotion on his voice. Gold had made the point of finding out what it was, if only to know if any precautions were needed, or if he had to hide his link to Whale in case whatever he was doing attracted too much attention to all of them. The look Jefferson gave him, told him he wasn’t the only one wary of Whale’s displays of emotion. “The access through the mines hasn’t been possible, Dove estimates at least a month more of work.” Before he could be interrupted he added, “If we don't want to call attention of anything being done there.”

“We can’t wait that long.” 

At that Jefferson jumped from the desk, turning his head to look at each in turned he did his best attempt at controlling the mischief when he said, “So… are we sneaking into the library?”

“If I may” said a voice from the courting that divided the back room from the customer area. Archie Hooper, only psychiatrist in to, seem to startle at the intensity with which the three men were looking at him. Clearing his throat he offered, “Your best chance of that, would be tonight.” 

“Dr.Hopper.” greeted Whale.

“Jiminy!” said the other man with a little hop.

“Please, Jefferson. Don’t call me that.”

“What happens tonight?”

“Nothing special, I just heard in the dinner that a visitor has arrived and Miss French will be occupied as tourist guide. A better moment than most for you to get to the basement.” At one point Hopper was the man in charge of finding the objects he needed for his collection, a future deal, so satisfy Gold’s need of been the one to have them. He had been good even when his methods tended to be old school. After saving enough, he got into university and came to the town to set his own practice. Since then, cordial and ever offering his new abilities he rejected at every opportunity the possibility of coming back to this particular job. Like no one else in town he was aware of Jefferson’s real job, and Gold’s true nature. For whatever reason he never interfered. 

“Huh? I didn't know you still worked with us.” said the young man.

“You worked for Gold?” there was mild surprise in Whale’s voice. If Jefferson was thrifty and technologically and magically savvy, what Archie had going for him was the readiness with which people underestimated him. He felt himself smile at that.

“I did and I’m not.” and unusually cold tone in  the psychiatrist voice. “There’s something I’d like to talk to you about, Mr Gold. If you have the time.”

“I guess I owe it to you in exchange of the dinner gossip.” The man was obviously taken with Miss Lucas. Had he been there this morning? “You two, meet me here again at eight tonight.” 

Understanding the dismissal both men said their goodbyes, Jefferson’s accompanied by a wide arc of his arm and a bow, “Lock the door on your way out.”

Gold offered Hopper a seat and sat down on the cot, keeping a hand close to Henry. The boy seemed sleepy but it was better to be close. At least with the psychiatrist he could lower his stance a bit more than with his employees.“Be brief.”

“Do you realise he won’t work for you for much longer?” said the man with a nod to the door were the others had gone out. “His daughter will be born soon enough.”

“I know.” They had already talked about it, it wasn’t retirement, not completely but Jefferson had made it clear he wouldn’t accept any job that required he'd be away for long. One of the reasons he kept sending them, so they could find this spell either as a ‘text’ sooner rather than later. It had already taking a lot of effort and money to convince him to take the last two trips. “ Are you asking for the job? Is therapy not as profitable as you hoped?”

“No, just curious. Dr. Whale is not the type for the job.”

“Agreed. He is useful though. And a sore loser, and that’s always fun. Not of your concern, but Jones is willing enough. I know you have tried to talk to him about his many issues, but I warn you, don’t talk him out of the job.”

“On the contrary, opposite to Jefferson, he’ll be a better father for his daughter if he finally has a stable job. Which is the reason I’m here.”

“The Jones?” Well, that would be unusual.

“No, the issue of becoming a better father.” Ah, that. “Wait, hear me out.” The man seemed to collect himself, sitting straighter he continued, “Is this library heist and overall insomnia pandemic in town something to do with what we talked about Baelfire? Did you do something? Did you finally make a choice?”

“Do I have one?” There was no use in hiding the bite in the question. “I thought the whole point of what you said last time was that I didn’t have one but give him what he wants.”

“That’s not quite it. Is not about giving him what he wants, is about respecting his choices. And listening to him.”

“Even thought that means condemning him to mortality?” Rising his voice was a bad idea, specially with Henry this close. So he took a deep breath pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I thought he was mortal.”

“Shortening his lifespan then, if you want specifics.”

“You understand why he asked.”

“Yes, and that doesn’t make it easier.” He had just fed and changed the main reason. “As much as he doesn’t want to see the love of his life or his child die, he is asking me to do just that. I am immortal, I don’t have a choice.”

“He does.” said the doctor, not unkindly.

“Did you come here to repeat this conversation?”

“I wanted to know if all this mess is related to that conversation, and if the fact that it has lasted this long is because it is a hard task or you are purposely delaying it.” The man kept his posture rigid, drawing any bravery from it as he effectively berated him. It was … well, new. “If it is the second, I’m in the mind of arguing for the common well-being with you and ask you please to either stop it or finish it. And I know how suicidal it may seem to come and ask you this.”

At that, in any other company he would be right. “I’ll give it to you, therapy has given you the backbone that you so much lacked.” It was that comment that had the man hunching down over his legs “Why would you risk it?”

“I met someone more intimidating than you.”  

There was a story behind that statement but the day had already proven itself to be a busy one; on any other day, one of the many in his boring existence he would have give it chase. If only to know this ‘someone’. “And if I told you is neither?”

“Strange phenomenon that affects a whole town? If it is not your doing, you must know what is causing it and how to fix it.”

“It’s not me.” It was the truth, but he could bet his entire fortune that nobody would believe him. The sceptical look that Hopper gave him told him not even the psychiatrist could, but that at least he would try to play along.

“Do you know how to fix it?”

“No idea. It doesn’t seem the work of a curse but it escapes my understanding why would this happen. All of it, including your newest patient.”

“I was hoping it was your fault, specially because of her. If you were messing with her to free the library and give you access again to the famous lab, I could do something. I could help her talking to you.They are not normal dreams, are they?”

“No.”

“And you are actually in them?”

“Yes.”

“Does she know you are real in there?”

“What does she tell you?” Without the fight in him, Hopper had gone back to be a therapist and the look on his face made him feel younger than the centuries on his back could permit. “No, she doesn’t. She says it out loud repeatedly.” “It bothers you.” “She also spends a lot of time complaining about you.”

“You have to tell her, please.” The man was concerned about her. Gold knew from her and her ramblings about Hopper and his methods on her dreams, that she was getting increasingly frustrated. Yet, she still hadn’t shared what she wanted Hopper to help her with. And the psychiatrist wasn’t going to share that, too lawful and professional. He was willing, though, to come all the way to him, berate him, question him, demand of him and now plead to him. It must be draining him too, beyond the sleeplessness. “Make her believe. That way whatever is happening can be fixed. Either the source of the problem it’s she or you, if she has anything to do with it, she won’t be able to do anything about it, if she things it isn’t real.”

“I remind you that I was your employer not the other way around. You can’t come in here and make demands.”

“I can. This is unbearable! Not only I have a permanent headache, every single one of my patients complain of the same over and over again. And it hurts them in different ways. I’ve tried but nothing I do helps. Do you know how frustrating that is? Full moon is coming and… The only ones who sleep are you and Belle, if this dreams are real-”

“They are. It’s another realm, in fact.”

“Another realm then, if you can get there. Please just finish this.” He didn’t care about the town at large, or humans in general. He found himself more often than not, in a situation similar to this, blamed for whatever weird event happened in town. Only on some occasion it was actually his doing. However, Whale had said Neal and Emma looked tired, he had thought it was for the little tyke they had to deal with in a new town, with new jobs, but if this affected them too, it at least had to be checked. He needed to know what was happening if nothing else. And perhaps, the painful direct route of asking the god itself for what he had been looking could end this search he found himself for months now. His son could leave when he got what he came for, but it was Gold who acted like that. His son was better and he deserved a normal life. Hopper was right, he just needed to finish it.

“ Are you certain the library will be empty tonight?”

“You will be able to get to the basement without interruptions, the three of you. I can make sure someone distracts the French for long enough.”

“Go home Hopper, it’ll help.”

-

Night

This time around had been faster, the soil in the garden was soft and there was no need to remove the grass, the shovels were comfortable in weight and Belle had secretly changed her shoes to trekking boots that made it easier to help her companion. He was unusually quiet tonight, not to say he was always chatty. Only once had he talked until she started to get annoyed, mostly because he profusely disagree with anything she said, just for the fun of arguing. But even though he tended to be mercurial, he could also be funny in a darker acid way, that had her laughing freely at jokes she know would draw looks in the real world. So far the theory was that he reflected her deeper feelings, and today just seemed to prove it. With the news her father had brought and the pending decision to go back to Australia, if just temporary, had put a weight on her shoulders. Sadly, what she needed was a distraction from all that, and her imp was in no mood to help.

“That’s becoming easier” she said, trying to get his attention. “Practice makes perfect.”

“I don’t think it is meant for murder, or body disposal. Gardening though...” The rectangle on the garden was obvious, but it wasn’t meant to be perfect just functional. At least the dream required only practicality to end.

Flattening the raising soil, she realised it was the first time she ever did that. “This is unusual.”

“What is?” Everything in this dream. Today. The way you are behaving!

“Everytime the body is out of sight the dream ends.” 

“That’s when it ends for you?” His voice sounded deeper, more his real version than hers.

“Isn’t it the end for both of us? After all I’m dreaming you.”

“Right.” He said leaning heavily into his shovel, and he kept reminding her of the real man. It was a pose familiar to her, she was sure he only allowed himself to look that tired when he thought nobody was looking. Softly he added, “Wonder why me.”

It didn’t sound like a question, he didn’t ask for an answer to that. But she had the same question and hadn’t come to a satisfactory answer while pondering it awake, perhaps here she could answer it through him.“No idea.”

“Really? No theories of why it’s me here every night. Nothing to do with the tales of the beast of Storybrooke.”

“My job are tales among others, it would be impossible to believe wholeheartedly in all of them.”

“Ah, so why do you keep casting me as a murderer?”

“I do not.” If it was about casting, she had cast herself in the lead role. “You are here to help.” 

“Oh, so I’m a henchman.” He said with a light in his eyes. “Right… that’s new. Have you met Dove?” The smile in his face was teasing. “He is my henchman and looks like it to.” He turned to look to the freshly made burial, and with a self deprecating tone he continued, “Don’t know how an old, crippled man can be much muscle power”.

“Your limp is not always present here. And, you do realise that for this pit you did most of the work? “

“After a month of this merciless fitness program something had to give. My grandson certainly thanks you.”

“As if, it’d be great if Henry benefited from this, regardless how dubious that makes his grandfather. But, nothing here changes what happens out there?” She knew if was not common to be as conscious as she was within her dreams, and she had taken proper advantage of it. Being able to summon objects and change clothes, and wishing quite adamantly that no animal she was afraid of appeared while in the nightly task, she had thought she could bring her mother here, talk to her one last time. But it never happened. She knew this was its own bubble, never to influence reality not even by giving her hope.

“What if he could?”

“I don’t think writing these dreams for or telling them to a toddler is appropriate. Murder and all included.” she joked only to see the intent look in the eyes of her accomplice.  “Ok, let’s go along with it. Let’s say somehow you are Mr Gold, regardless of scaly shining skin, flickering limp, and reptilian eyes.” at that said eyes widen a bit, as if he hadn’t been aware of their appearance. “Oh yes, I’ve noticed. If whatever happens here affects day life. How did you get here?”

“I could always fall asleep in the sofa at my house but unless I want my ankle to kill me the following morning, I just go to bed.”

“Smartass.” He laughed at that. “It’s good to know you didn’t decided to infiltrate my dreams, I’d have to inquire after method and intention in that case.” The mere idea seemed like an invasion of privacy, but then, if this wasn’t her dream. Where were they? She hadn’t recognise the cabin they always appeared at, not the forest that surrounded it, or the lake half a mile out to the north. Looking around her she notice for the first time the beauty of it. Even in the dark of a crescent moon, the vibrant green colour of the leaves and bushes could be seen. “ When does your dream end?”

“At dawn, right at the point you expect the sun to appear in the horizon but not after. When the sky is changing colours some cold some warm all at war.”

“That’s… good.” Why did that sounded good? “It’s always night when I’m here. No light.” A chill ran up her back, noticing that the wind was picking up and they had stood long enough to lose the warm gained while digging. “Should we go back to the cabin? I don’t like to be so close it.” She said glancing towards the fresh grave. “I’ve never had to look at it for too long.”

He nodded, walking just a couple steps ahead enough to get the door first. “Do you believe in dreams?” he said, his hand still on the nob.

“What do you mean by believe?”

She could tell it took him a moment to decide what to say, but the moment he did it was clear, with a faint show of irritation he answered, “Anything other than explaining them as a chemical reaction produced by your brain.”

“Is Mr Gold not a pragmatic man?

“One more than the other.” He opened the door, moving to the side and with a tiny bow of his head. “Ladies first.”

“Before this month I used not to dream. Always wondered after what I read and heard about them, people tend to give them high significance. So, can't say I believe or not yet”

Belle stepped inside the cabin frowning at the darkness and heading to turn the lights on, even though she was certain neither of them turn them off when they headed out earlier. Since this was the first time she had the opportunity to explore she headed towards the farthest door opposite to the entrance. Her companion seemed unsure of what to do pacing slowly around the small living area. Letting him to his exploration she cross the door.

“Belle?" His voice sounded far away. "Miss French!" It was screamed and coming closer. Why was he so far away? There had been a scream, a loud one. Turning around taking in her surroundings Belle can only see forest, and it didn't make sense. nothing did. Feeling tears falling across her face, the image comes back to her. The room had been empty, no more than a couple of meters squared. In it laid another man, injured, dead and pretty familiar to her. And then she was here.

How? 

--

There had been a sense of trepidation since he found himself in that room with Miss French. A simple potion was needed to help him relax enough to sleep once they got in the lab with both Viktor, Jefferson and Henry. The lab and the dungeons well fitted to contain most kinds of experiments, from magic, to science and the mix of both. Due to the nature of it, there were compartments fitted to rest in between trials or in the occasional long process. And even though he could had left Henry with the Nolans, he felt wrong being to far away from the boy. He asked Jefferson to come and the man was as always over enthusiastic, perhaps seeing as a trial run of what it will be his life in a couple of months.

Despite knowing that for once there was a whole crowd keeping an eye on his well being (or at least the state of his body), or perhaps because of it, a restlessness had settled inside of him. Once the woman had claimed today’s dream was not going to plan, he knew to keep his guard up, however he hadn’t expected what happened after. He had noticed earlier the few changes in wardrobe that she sported while digging but this realm had different rules, and she was adamant that this was her dream, she could shape it to her will and he had been too distracted to call it for what it was. After she open that door, her scream send shivers down his back looking in her direction he only caught her silhouette disappearing. He recognised, after all he used it once upon a time before coming to the world ‘without magic’. Looking into the room he found the same man they’ve been dealing with for a month, admittedly in worst shape than most days but nothing that could motivate that reaction. Not now.

If she had the ability to jump between place in this realm, it was likely that she didn’t know to control it. After all, he had been here all this time by her side and she had never done such a thing. Morpheus would be able to easily locate them after her move, e needed to find her. Regardless if the confrontation with the king of dreams was something he’d likely avoid until he held the spell in his hands. Going to their tools, the last object she had been in contact for a considerable amount of time, he cast a spell to figure the general direction she headed. After all, she couldn't have gone too far.

It took him a while trekking in the forest surrounding the cabin to find a small earth path in between the trees, where the roots of the same were easier to see. It lead to a small clearing where she was. “Belle?” He called her name softly to not startled her. Walking to stand next to her he tentatively put a hand over her arm, he felt the strange impulse to comfort her but there wasn’t much he could do at the moment. He could use a little bit of magic now, after all they wouldn’t be alone for long now, so he magicked a jacket and gave it to her. She nodded her thanks. “What happened?”

“Didn’t you see?”

He did, it still didn’t explain her need to get away from it. A need so big she had done something she’d never done before. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” he knew the tone was wrong, and not entirely the one he wanted to use but apart from accepting his presence she kept going inside herself. It was better now that she kept aware of where they were. “At least twice the man has been in a similar state to that before.” He was being honest, at least.

Slowly she raised her eyes to him with confusion, “That’s completely different.”

“How so?”

“Is a different person!” 

There it is, she was seeing someone else. “Who was he?”

“Stop this please, you know him because I know him.” She said heading towards the place he came from.

“I don’t, in all honesty. All I saw was the same man we buried all these days. It seems this is not true for you.” Her attention was in exploring the edge of the clearing. “So, help me understand, who is the man back there?” he asked trying to get her attention, it would be difficult to find her again if she transported herself.

“Gaston.”

“Boyfriend?” he ventured, the man didn’t look like a brother or other close family plus she had moved recently. It could be him Hopper had been talking about.

“Ex-fiancé.”

“Right.” She looked back at him, and he noticed he spoke aloud. “That’s- That’d be a shock, to see him like that.” It wasn’t only that, whether she believe it or no, the man was real. Had been for as long as both of them kept on coming here. Why were the three of them in this? “I’m sorry.” he added as an afterthought. If their visit to this realm had no end in sight, and there was already a visitor dead, whatever had kill him was likely to come to them eventually, after a month of playing the game was coming to an end. They needed to move to a better place, it wouldn’t do to be hunted and be standing in a small clearing in an unknown forest. “Miss French, we have to move.”

“Is it wrong that I don't want to go back there?” she said.“I don’t want to see him like that.” she added softly, looking into the forest were he had come from. She had found the slight earth path leading into the trees.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to.”

“We can’t leave him like that. I don’t want to but we should.”

“I’m not digging another hole tonight, and he is dangerous.”

“He is dead.” she said flatly.

“Exactly, he is dead and he is here.” And he was still too close for his liking. “That simply does not happen. Many a thing with appetite for human flesh hides in the corners of this place, within minutes we could be surrounded, specially since death reeks in this realm.” Nothing died here, everything just changed shape.

“Realm? It is my dream, no monster will come out that I don’t wish for it.” She moved into the path carefully avoiding the roots jutting out.

“And if t is a nightmare.” Going back was possibly the worst thing they could do, but he needed her to see it. Stopping right inside the line of trees the sound of the wind lowered and other sounds made the forest seem full of live, like never before.

“We are doing right by him, again”. It was said more to encourage herself to move further into the path, but a loud growl froze her. 

“No, we won’t. Listen to that, they have smell him.” and they were many, for the first growl kept being answered by smaller ones of different tone, and if the sound could be trusted, from multiple directions. “Humans don’t walk in this land, is dangerous for them.” He grabbed her hand and started to go back to the clearing.

“Then what am I if not human?”

Circling the clearing much like she had done just moments before he looked for a new path. “You are special. Unusual.” Keeping his use of magic low, in case they could follow them like that, was really frustrating.

“If humans can’t be here how do people dream?”

Before he could find any way out, Belle walked ahead of him, pulling him on still holding his hand, leading him towards one of the biggest trees in sight. 

“They are… when they are here you could call them ghost-like.” she kept walking straight to the tree with a determination that stilled his tongue on the possible crashing, instead he focussed on explaining further on, “if attacked they can wake up and nothing has changed, they are neither harmed nor do they benefit from the dream.” At the last moment she sidestepped the tree, continuing sideways as if in a narrow passage. He does the same, turning just so to keep in touch with her, if this was a passage it was best to make sure they both went out of it together. “You’ve been digging with me, deny that you woke up tired. Not just tired from restless sleep, tired as in all you’ve been doing here your body is going through it too.”

The uneven ground that so far had characterised the forest was gone. Just after noticing the change, they emerged from the trees still walking sideways into a field walled in rocks. In the horizon started a series of hills. “Whatever these creatures are… when I wake up I’ll see what they’ve done?” 

“If you survive them and that’s hard even with my powers, then yes.”

Keeping with the direction they had being walking, they entered the field. “What are you?

“What am I?” he said, making his voice higher giving her a clue of that which wasn’t human about him. “That’s unexpectedly rude from you.”

“Are you human?”

“Partly.” 

“Is the other part why you shine?” she asked, it could have been in jest but her eyes held true curiosity, still...“Shine?”

“Your skin…” she said vaguely gesturing with her hand towards his general direction.

“That… is part of a rather old curse.” A story only his son knew, for everyone else he had blamed the imagination on mortals and their inability to report objectively, specially about non-human creatures. Who said fairies looked like in those animated pictures? The doing of a young girl back in the turn of the century had cemented that image in modern imagination. At least before they had been more creative! “True enough the colour has to do with that part, usually scales are darker, and sometimes duller in a cursed human.”

“Can your powers help Gaston?”

“There’s nothing to be done. Nothing you or I can change, the dead do not rise.” The latest attempt he had witness was by Viktor, the man was as obsessed with it as all those that attempted it before him. None had a good ending, and Gold had been there to see each spectacular failure. It was better for everyone if such a feat remain unachievable. “Did you love him?”

“No. I think my father did, the idea of him as his son, and somewhere along the line but before it was too late I realised that that wasn’t reason enough for marrying him.” there was sadness in her voice, she was mourning but what? It didn’t seem she was fond of the engagement, “What other things can you do?” she asked obviously changing the topic.

“I only have to follow three rules, everything else is free land. Depending of course, on the land I find myself in. In this place I can only influence my own being, like getting rid of the limp to dig better, instead of magicking a pit.”

She smiled at that, “That would have saved a lot of time.” It seemed she was ready to drop the conversation, her mind probably going back to the cabin. The growls had muted once they got out of the forest, but Gold couldn’t help the need to turn back and check nothing had found them. After a moment though, her face light up with interest “Ok, listen to this. If all of this is real, how come you limp in the real world?”

Apparently this was turning into an extended inquiry, if he had the heart to shut her out he would have done it. As it was, he clamped down the voice in his head warning him of anyone so curios, and managed a smile that only to the keen eye seemed strained, “I don't like to draw attention, especially of other magical beings. I only use enough magic for the glamour.” sending her way a pointed look he waved over himself,  “The skin, the eyes.” 

“Is that how you looked before the curse? Did you have magic?”

She was sharp, not that it surprised him. It was one of the aspects he could admire about her, and that he had noticed while she dealt with the townsfolk. It could become a problem if they ever found themselves at odds. Knowing himself, he thought that would eventually happen. “Close enough. Of course I have to keep in mind what is appropriate clothing now. As for the second one, if I did I wasn’t aware of it.” He hadn’t been aware of a great many things back then. The weight of war, man’s capacity for cruelty and for standing pain. He got to know all of that eventually before his own magic and ancestry, but even in the dark he had had a good life, he and his son, a flimsy roof and less than enough food considered.

“Were you already near Maine, back then?” 

The ludicrous though surprised a laugh out of him, which he quickly tried to keep quiet. “As far as one possibly can be.” He knew for a fact, it was likely that back then the area was nothing but forest. At edge by the questioning into his past, he took the opportunity to turn the tables, after all, it was evident by now that she was the cause for all this upheaval. Did she know it? “Storybrooke is a good town for new beginnings, and renewing identities. Don’t you agree?”

“It’s welcoming.” the way her hands clench by her side told him his intention had been too clear, but she had avoided an answer to his real question. Belle liked subtlety in her worlds of fiction and frankness in words, another difference between her and the town she had come to live in. 

“Why did you come to Storybrooke? Surely, you could have enjoyed and thrived in the city, a small town can become dull after a short time.”

“A relentless friend who lives in town? A break from the city and its problems? All of the above… It was always meant to be temporal.”

“What’s changed?”

“I’m not sure. There’s another reason I moved here and it’s been a failure, and yet today I was… confronted with the idea of going back home.” they had finally reached the hill at the edge of the field and the sounds that filled the forest had yet to appear here. Belle headed towards the top, to look what was beyond. He hoped they still had time before something bad happened. “It felt wrong, the whole idea of going away.”

“It’s not time yet, then.” the pain in his ankle was coming back, as a numbness that made stepping a weird experience. It didn't bode well, to lose his magic so soon. Was it soon? It seemed as if they  were being hunted before, now he thought, they might still be, but the hunter was waiting for them to tire.

“Look!” Belle said from the summit looking forward. It sounded like good news. “We should go inside. They might not find us there.” stepping beside her, he noticed she was pointing at a small cottage around fifty meters downhill, there was light coming from its windows. He nodded, and both descended. It was clear it was small but apart from two tiny windows visible from the side they were approaching, nothing more could be said about it, the night still in full bloom made it hard to see much detail. 

“Oh, It’s very pretty.” there was a feeling in the back of his head that kept distracting him. Something was familiar about this place and while he took his time going around it, he could here Belle inside talking to him. “It is larger than it looks from outside. There’s two cots, do you think it is possible to sleep within a dream?” for a moment while he stood under the door frame looking at her exploring inside the land left his feet. There was enough light coming from the hearth and a candle in the only table. It was exactly as it had been all those years ago, except for the company. But the warmth that grew inside of him at the sight of the place only grew as the woman carefully and enthusiastically got to the only surviving object of that past. “And there’s even a spinning wheel.” she was looking at him with a small but real smile and his feet seemed to follow it on their own accord, until he was inside the building. “We could wait here, while those things roam outside.” something in his expression or his silence had called her attention, she probably assumed he didn’t agree with her. “There’s plenty of space. Are you alright?”

“This place… How is it here?” So far everything that they had seen was either new or familiar to her. Never to him, suddenly he felt threatened and an uneasy feeling started to crawl up his back, the same that had bother him in the field. They were being hunted.

“Where are we?”

“My home.” He looked her in the eyes, not wanting to put anything in words but he knew he failed at making her understand his fear at the situation.

“I know people love to exaggerate, but I’ve been told you life in a castle-like mansion…” she had been trying to hard to put a positive spin to almost everything they had experienced during this night, but he could hear the strain in her tone.

“I do. A three-storey building can inspire that description. This was before all that.” He allowed himself to come further into the small cottage. “Before the scales. Be careful of gossip though, a small town can become the underworld itse-” loud footfalls could be heard from outside and a young man ran in, closing the door quickly behind him. “Neal?”

---

With his hands still on the closed door and trying to catch his breath, Neal look up to them with a hint of surprise in them, “I’ve been looking for you.” 

“How are you here?” asked Gold, who was now in between both of them. Belle tried to listen for whatever it was that had Neal running like that, but there was only silence around them.

“A potion, like the one you used on her.” said the young man looking at her. “After a couple of days of neither of you waking up, I had to come and find out what happened.”

“Excuse me, what potion?” she asked. Did he said days?

“It was for him, but Emma collected it and apparently she shared it with you in one of Miss Lucas outings.” Gold answered walking nearer with a contrite look in his face. “It was a mistake, she’s still not very familiar with that side of my business.”

Apparently there were more than just curses and magical powers in this world of him. “So, you brought me here.”

“Technically yes, but it should have worked only once and never meant to completely bring you here.” A dreaming potion, then.

“It didn’t work out like that.” The first time in her life she dreamed and it was because of an accident with a potion, and she had gotten trapped in it for days on end.

“No.” He echoed softly. He never seemed to enjoy the dreams, admittedly he spend them doing hard work. Which at the beginning had been amusing if only for the contrast with the real man. But if he had been that man, it wouldn’t make sense for him to do any of that on purpose. It had been a mistake, that affected both and he was as sorry for herself as for himself.

“Were you intending on being there in Emma dreams?” The implication annoyed her, it didn’t seem right to accuse the man of that.

“No. Believe me son, I had no intention of visiting this place.” She had wanted to answer to Neal, he was crossing a line and this was his father. He could imagine the relationship was complicated but still. She was expecting something different, the sorrow and pleading tone of the reply shut her up. This man, that in both of his versions looked unreachable most of the time, looked tired, the sadness in his expression difficult to pass as something else.

“You have been lying to me then.” there was no surprise in Neal’s voice when he continued. “You were never going to help me”

“That’s not what I meant. The potion effects shouldn’t have involved me in any way.”

“You always do this, don’t you? You trick people into thinking you are working for them and then you are only working for you. All that business with Morpheus’ child and the spell you promised me, it is all a lie. You never intended to do it. Why are you really here?” Belle knew this wasn’t a conversation in which she should be present. The circumstances though, forced her to remain there and she couldn’t help pay attention to both men, the more loud and angry one became the other one became more pleading and defensive. 

“I never planned to come here, this is the last place where the spell would be. There’s no reason for me to be here.”

“And yet you are here with her, thanks to the potion you made. I bet the spell doesn’t do what you said, knowing you it will grant you power in this land, one of the few that is problematic for you.” The intensity in Neal’s eyes was off, a speck of cruelty. He looked young.

“You don’t believe that, please son. You know I’ve listen to you. I’ve been trying to do the right thing, even when it pains me.” If his skin was normal, she’d bet his knuckles would be white from the strength he was closing his fist, as if holding himself long enough to argue a defence. “And that includes giving you a normal lifetime with your family.”

“You want me to be there for you, regardless of the pain it would cause me to see my family die.” That’s when she noticed it, the anger and cruelty mixed at once. Neal was happy with his family, she saw them at the dinner, the way he looked at Emma and little Henry. That Neal had no reasons for this emotion, and he definitely looked older than this man. “You want me to become you and what? By then when I’m all darkness inside, you’ll give me your grand kingdom?”

“Son…” She was sure the man didn’t want to look weak in front of her, it was obvious he was that proud. But it was just as obvious the words had hurt him considerably, perhaps he had thought about it at some point. He closed his eyes, as if seeking focus. It was enough, she didn’t want to be there for more of that.

“Who are you?”

“What do you mean?” It could have been meant for either of them, and it was the young man’s reply that told her she had been right. He wasn’t Neal even though he looked like him.

“You are not Neal.” Gold’s head spun towards her at that, but thankfully he remained silent. 

“Why would you say that? Do you believe him?” he said gesturing widely with his arm towards Gold. “He’s not trustworthy, he will stab you in the back before you know it.” His eyes locked on her, and perhaps their cruel light was sharper at that. “After all, legends have been told for generations about him, deals with the devil and prices too high to pay.” Adapting a mocking and higher voice, much alike the first days of her dream version of Gold, he continued. “Let me introduce you to Rumplestiltskin.” A smirk appeared on his face. A face that was starting to look like another’s, similar but by now evidently not Neal’s. “If I were you I’d go far away from him.” Remembering the part he should have been playing he composed himself before adding, “My mistake was coming back.”

“I’ve made mistakes, it’s been a long life. I’d love to life it with you by my side, but not at the price of your soul.” He still couldn’t see it. It seemed a feature of this place, it had taken her according to him a whole month to see Gaston.

“Unbelievable!” The laugh of the young man was too loud for the small space.

“Neal wouldn’t say any of that. You look younger than him too. Who are you?”

“Oh, you are stubborn.” He seemed to consider something and asked, “If I’d ask you to leave, would you do it?” Belle just shook her head. “No? If you insist then the name is Morpheus.” Within a blink the young man, Morpheus, changed clothes, going for a long night dark coat. “And you are both trespassing. I’ll admit it, I’m impressed. For a human like you to summon a whole building from someone else’s memories is quite an achievement.” He was smiling towards her, sharp and friendless. “You even recognised me. But you’ve proved what I wanted to know. As amusing as you two have been. Imp, take it from me, you’ll regret keeping that deal with Baelfire.” With the simple sentence he dismissed the man he had been insulting, and his focus was on her. While he was having fun with Gold, Rumplestiltskin, or whatever his name was, he wasn’t planning on that for her. She raised her head and promised to herself not be intimidated by him. “And you, child. I’ve given you enough time.” The threat startled her companion into action, it took Morpheus a wave of his hand to freeze him in place. “Don’t even think it, spiky ears. Your magic is already too strained.” He looked back at her, “Answer me one thing, child. Was it all you ever hoped?”

“I don’t understand… What was-”

“You don’t understand… right. She said you were clever, brilliant even. I meant your inheritance, your claim for my kingdom.”

“I gave up my inheritance, my father gave it to Gaston.”

“Not that one. Listen! My kingdom’s share. The fool though he was looking for immortality, I admit you did a good job with him. You convinced him to do the dirty work and think it was his idea, it took me a considerable amount of persuasion to finally be convinced he was telling the truth in that regard.” Pointing at the still frozen man he added. “Once he proved useless you got him.”

Apparently Gaston had come face to face with this being’s anger, she couldn’t explain how such a simple man had drawn the attention of a god. But it was definitely the wrong kind of attention to attract. “Gaston was not a good man but whatever you did to him, he didn’t deserve it.”

“Of course you’d say that, that’s why I had you help me. He was awake, didn’t you know? Everytime you buried him or set him in the lake, he became a little more willing to talk.” She felt her face becoming red, of shame or anger she wasn’t sure. This being had her torture a man day after day. The pressure in her ears made it hard for her to listen to the rest. “He was here just like you two. But I think you humans called that a coma, there in your world. It was never a coma, never quite a pause but a long dragging ending.”

She was trying hard not to give into the impulse to lower her head with everything that was running in her head. In the chaos of her thoughts she noticed something and that kept her going. “He never felt asleep driving.”

“It shines through, that cleverness of yours. No. Not by himself anyway.”

“Why did you do it? Why are you doing this?” It was all too much, too much time and effort. Why had them doing that to the man? Why make him suffer so?

“Why? Because even though she left me, she was my child. My only child! And you killed her. The worst thing is that she gave her immortality away for you. You took her away from me twice. That first time, she said she loved you too much to see you die. She could never see that you were too much like them not to be driven by ambition. Did you get curious why she didn’t let you come here? What was she hiding? Did you then find out about this world and decided you wanted it? The ability to shape realities?”

“I’ve never killed anyone. Who are you talking about?”

“Colette was the name she chose. You don’t deserve to know her true name. She wanted you to have a choice, be human and mortal or be part of this realm as my grandchild, and third in line to the throne. But there’s a hunger in your kind, insidious and ravenous. Even though my daughter was a mortal, it was a long wait, wasn’t it? So you thought you could sneak here, and make yourself ruler?”

“How dare you?” Her voice was breaking and she could feel tears falling. Somehow her body had understood the situation before her mind; there was a slowness to the words he just said as she repeat them in her head trying to make sense of them. He was there looking at her, all the anger and cruelty she had seen, directed at her with great sadness mixed in between. He was breathing hard, just like her. It was the sharp emptiness in her chest that awoke her. “How can you suggest, even think, that I had anything to do with my mother’s death. I loved her and I’ve missed her every second since then. I’ve wondered why she couldn’t make it, I was in the car too, she could have survived too. Every moment I’ve asked why her!”

“Liar! You’ll die today. No more humans in my kingdom, they all can thank you for that. You are all wretched creatures. You’ll be the last meal of my pets for a long time.”

“Wait!” Rumplestiltskin said, trying to move in between but whatever glitch in Morpheus’s spell that allowed him to talk hadn’t been enough to allow him to move. “We can prove she’s innocent.”

“I won’t allow you to trick me.”

“That won’t be a problem. You are actually the only one that can acquire this proof, you can’t doubt its validity since it’s your job’s result. If you are convinced by it as I believe you’ll be, let us go back. I know you don’t trust humans, and I understand but as bland, idiotic or cruel they can be not all are the same. Belle is your grandchild and your daughter loved her, if just for that give her a chance to prove her innocence.”

“No tricks Rumplestiltskin, or I make this longer than either your sanity or darkness can stand.”

He turned as much as he could his head towards her a question in his eyes he didn’t make. “You were able to access my memory to bring this place.” With a cold tone he address the god. “I take it then you can do that too.”

“Undoubtedly.”

That’s it! “Can you access memories the owner can not? Like amnesia.” She asked.

“That’s different. This is a copy of Rumplestiltskin's first home and it is based on his memories not on the reality that inspired it. Most of it is similar enough, but the hearth there is from later on in his life, around the time Baelfire was born. You need the other person to remember to access their memories. If they can’t you can’t.”

“And if it wasn’t natural amnesia?” Rumplestiltskin asked, pointedly not looking at her direction. “Can you lock someone else’s memories?”

“It’s unusual but possible. I haven’t done such with her. What does this questioning have to do with anything?” Morpheus replied impatient.

“It was a car crash. It was natural.” She added.

Still not looking at her he explain “Your mother came to talk with him after she gave up her mortality. Never in your life you had access to this realm, not even in the capacity common to humans. It is possible she could do this too.”

“Why?” It made no sense.

“You are her child. If she did this, could you get to the memories of the crash?”

“I would see them but not unlock them.” The young man looked at her, all the feelings still visible in his look, but locked away brewing and not longer in the surface. “If what I see is convincing enough and you live, you still won’t remember until you learn how to undo her work, if she did it. What it’d be? Remember that if you did kill her I could see that too.”

“Are you sure about this?” Belle asked her companion.

“It is our best option. You can do this.”

It didn’t make sense, she wasn’t the one doing anything. And yet turning to face Morpheus, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Do it.”

The headache started at the back and advanced to the ears feeling akin to high pressure, every sound muted at the same time the pain increased and expanded inside her skull. She wanted to not react, she didn’t want this being to see her flinch. So she focussed in his eyes, which obviously looking in her direction were nevertheless lost, not entirely seeing her. The eerie feeling of such a look help her to stand the pain as it finally hit her forehead and lowered to the back of her eyes. She knew she wouldn’t keep awake for much longer, the corners of her sight going dark. And she couldn’t be sure if he had indeed given her a chance to proof her innocence or if this was him killing her. But she was sure she wouldn’t forget the moment he saw her again, and the sadness in those eyes didn’t belong in a face so young.

---

“Gold!” 

“Finally!”

The place he awoke in was entirely too familiar, dark and with a faint smell of chemicals, the lab in the dungeons was just the same as the moment we went to sleep. His company was apparently just the same, and he had to admit even just to himself that it was nice to see the pair of eccentrics again.

“Why does it feel like I’m made of stone? What did your machines do Viktor?”

“What did they do? What were you doing?” asked Jefferson with a mix of worry and indignation so balanced in his voice that made Gold certain he had been practicing for the future child of his.

“It’s been… almost 60 hours since you went to sleep.” answered the doctor going back to the machines now that he was awake.

“Henry?”

“He enjoyed the tea party I prepared.” said proudly the jumper. “But his father came the following morning to collect him.”

“Neal has been worried. Specially since you passed the two days mark.” the sound of typing accompanied the comment.

“If it weren’t because Mr French was starting to lose it at the dinner…” said Jefferson with a role of his eyes. “Emma and Neal had been taking turns checking on him, you and Henry.”

“Is she alright?” there was no use in giving details, if he had been asleep for so long so had she, and probably with her father staying in the dinner everyone in town would now who he meant.

“She probably woke up at the same time as you, I’ll call.” offered Viktor.

“Or you can go and wake the town’s own sleepy beauty.” he had to roll his eyes at that, which only made the young man laugh.

---

After almost three days spent sleeping, three days in which her father had drove the Lucasses into a frenzy and almost given himself a heart attack, it had taken weeks for them to find some sense of normalcy. The women had been lovely, taking care of and distracting her father but the three of them had taken to be too protective of her and that had started to drain her. Neal and Emma had been great with her father as well and they had taken to drive him around showing him all the nooks and crannies of town, a knowing look from Emma that told her to take that time for herself. 

And she needed it, all that had happened had shattered her vision of what was normal, she had spend more time that was probably good revisiting her childhood and her memories of her mother, to see if anything unusual was there. It took her awhile too, to understand the part of Gaston in all of it, if Morpheus had been right the man had known about her mother and had killed her. Thankfully it didn’t took much effort to convince her father to stay longer, of only for him to miss the burial. He didn’t need to know the man he loved as a son had killed his wife, but she wouldn’t let him go to the ceremony as petty as it made her. Maurice had taken the extension as an opportunity to convince her to come back, even if he claimed he had understood her decision in the past he argued he couldn’t do much from afar if something happened again. The question about leaving was small but had ingrained itself in her mind, she needed something to kill that small doubt. After all she had said to her father to not hope much in that regard.

And yet, amidst all of that she hadn’t seen her friend since the incident. The store had been closed for a week and then she hadn’t had the time to go in. Neal said he was fine when she asked but that was all she knew. The experience hadn’t been good for him either, even if it wasn’t Neal who confronted him, she had seen how much the accusations had hurt him, and how much he believed them.

That day her father was chatting animatedly with Mrs Lucas and with both completely distracted she took the chance to go to the pawnshop. 

The bell at the door announced her entrance. The man appeared a couple of minutes later from the backroom. “Hey, Good morning.”

He smiled as soon as he recognised her, “Good morning, Miss French.”

“Are we going back to that?” she raised an eyebrow for emphasis, in her mind the dream had erased the need for that kind of formality. “You can call me Belle if you like.”

“Alright Belle.” he said stepping in front of the counter hands over the head of his cane. “What brings you here today?” 

“You haven’t visited the dinner or library in a while, and considering that the dreams are over… I though we might have a chat pending.” she hadn’t been sure what she wanted to talk about but seeing him standing in front of her looking down at his hands, she knew.

“I though it better to give you some time, to process everything that happened. And there was your father…”

“I understand. I needed that time. But I wanted to make a deal with you, Rumplestiltskin, if interested of course.” Better to make sure they were in the same page to treat everything that happen as real, the use of his true name would do it.

“You wanted to talk business.” His smile became smaller, but he looked up to her again. It was easier for him to do so when he close off a little. Did he expect her to agree with Morpheus on his opinion of him?  “What deal do you have in mind?”

“I still don’t remember and you are still looking for my mother’s spell.”

“But, you see, a deal is possible when one party has something the other one wants, and we know I can’t give you your memories nor do you know where is the spell.”

“True. Yet, we are each other's best chance at finding what we look for, you can teach me how to control my powers, and I offer you my help in your search. She was my mother, I might have a better chance than your rock band members.” She hoped he understood what she was saying, with a smile she asked, “What do you say Rumple?

A brief war passed through his eyes, and how did he became so infamous when he was so easy to read? “They do look the part, don’t they?” The smile returned to his face, “I’d be glad to continue being your henchman.” 

There were too many reasons to stay.

#RCIJ 2020 #Joylee56

[silwenworld]

Hello! It’s your RCIJ giver checking in. I’m sorry I haven’t been more in touch. It’s been a challenging summer but I’m still here and giving your gift my full attention this week. Hope you’re doing well. I’m working to finish your present this week. It’s definitely going to be Dark Castle fic and I hope you have fun with it. Any final requests as I finish writing? Lots of love.

Hi there! It’s OK, I know life can be a bitch, so don’t worry about the seldom messages ;) I do hope it’s gotten better, tho!  I’m very excited about the Dark Castle shenanigans and can’t wait to read what you will come up with. Well, the only request if it can be called that, would be to have fun while writing :) Sending hugs your way!

#RCIJ ask #rcij 2020 #anonymous

[boushh2187]

Santa here, sorry for being late - life's been a little hectic, and I lost track of time. Anyway. How've you been? I'm proud to say, I've finally made some progress on your gift and couldn't be happier - I hope to write more soon. How's your own gift coming along? Atlantis is great, I still miss Beckett tho and yeah 13th is growing on me too! Hmm, my fav episodes are SD, Beauty - no shock here, Manhattan - There are more, but it's tough to pick :d What's yours? Have a wonderful rest of the week!

Hi! I’m outlining the gift I’m making right now. Hoping to get some work done on it this weekend too. Hmm, my favorites are Skin Deep and Land Without Magic. I’m doing OK, just kind of tired and worn out a bit, I guess. I fee like I need a break from life. :) Looking forward to watching the Hamilton film thingie on Disney + sometime this weekend. Are you able to do anything fun this weekend? Either way hope you have a good weekend!!

#my replies to santa #rumbelle christmas in july #my replies to rcij 2020 #rcij 2020 #Anonymous

[of-princes-and-savages]

Hi there, your RCIJ Secret Santa here, checking in. I wanted to be sure you got the submit I sent yesterday, because I hear from other Santas that their submits went missing! Hopefully you are doing okay... how are those crochet projects coming on? Just finished 3 more squares of the sampler afghan I'm making. Speaking of crochet - it's a kind of magic, right, making something from nothing? We all know magic comes with price, so I wonder... what will Belle and Rumple pay?

Firstly, I got surprised by Real Life so I didn’t see your submission until recently-ish. Sorry to validate your concerns like this but my Tumblr doesn’t always alert me when something drops in my inbox. -_-’

(But I did get it and it’s SUPER pretty!)

Sadly my crochet project is stagnant because I’ve been trying to piece my own RCIJ fic together lately, in addition to Real Life, but as the blanket I’m slowly making is basically just one obscenely large granny square, when I do have the time I make good on it. Hmm. Maybe that’s why I so firmly headcanon Rumple as a knitter, because of the magically process of making something from balls of string. That being said, O Santa; Did you have to pick the most OMINOUS way to put a price tag on it?!!?!

#RCIJ 2020

[celticheartedfangirl]

Birthday Girl, by CelticHeartedFangirl PART SEVEN (FINAL PART)

A Rumbelle Christmas in July 2020 gift for @avatoh

Back at the Dark Castle .....

Belle: This has been such a lovely day, Rumple. Thank you.

Rumple: Happy Birthday, my love.

THE END.

Sorry if this is a bit cheesy. Hope you enjoyed it!

#rumbelle christmas in july #avatoh #rcij 2020 #rumbelle