Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Belle sat at the counter of Granny’s diner and sighed heavily. She sipped her second cup of strong coffee, traced nonsense patterns on the counter’s laminate, and brooded. Brooding was not something at which she was particularly adept—Belle knew herself, and knew she was a chronic optimist—but today she was clinging to her dark mood as she thought about last night’s misadventure.
Ruby wiped down the counter and stared at Belle’s pale face and winced, “Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t have bombarded you like that.” Ruby tossed back her poker-straight-hot-rod-red-streaked hair and shrugged, “It just seemed like you needed a little push.”
“A push?” Belle blinked and shot Ruby an intense blue glare, “You call inviting me out, introducing me to a strange guy and then ditching me so we were obviously and pathetically set up (and doesn’t that make me look like a real loser) a push?” The venom in her own voice surprised her, but then Belle had been extremely embarrassed to be ambushed by someone she considered a real friend.
“Oh, come on, Belle,” Ruby pleaded, “I really thought you would like Gary! He’s really hot, and really sociable—“
“—and really glad to hear himself talk,” Belle cut her off. Oh, everything Ruby said was true. Gary had been an exceptional specimen of the male species. He had a large fit build that made her curvaceous body feel slight and willowy. His hair was thick and dark and one could easily imagine running one’s hands through it. His eyes had been pleasantly brown, and he had the overall rugged features that women should want to swoon over. And then he had opened his mouth and she had not gotten another word in all night.
Ruby winced again, uncomfortably; “Yea, Gaston can be like that…” she trailed off and fussed with her apron. It did nothing for Belle’s snippy mood to note that all the male patrons of Granny’s noted Ruby’s every movement in a way that indicated the diner’s coffee was not what they needed to perk up their day. Normally, Belle would have rolled her eyes and ignored the male population of Storybrooke as they had always been content to ignore her. Today, though, their focus on Ruby was picking at her pride. “Was it really that bad?” Ruby’s wheedled.
The bell on the door of Granny’s chimed as another group of customers shuffled out of the cold in search of hot coffee and a hot breakfast. “Bad?” Belle whispered fiercely, remembering at the last moment that they had a whole room full of small-town busybodies who would just love to add grist to the gossip mill, “he talked about sports, Ruby, sports!” Belle tossed her long mahogany curls in frustration, “Football, soccer (which he pretentiously called European football), hockey, baseball, lacrosse—he gave a damn dissertation on the subject of sports and never let me get a word in edgewise.”
Ruby groaned sympathetically but couldn’t quite stop the teasing smile from spreading on her red lips, knowing how Belle loathed sports, “Oh, Belle, I’m so sorry!”
Belle tried to glare at Ruby, but was utterly defeated in the attempt, Belle knew Ruby had just tried to help her poor dateless friend. But, stars, Belle hated to be fixed up—it smacked of some inability to find a man. And Belle could find a man, she told herself firmly, when she wanted one. She just wasn’t interested in the boys of Storybrooke.
“Sorry for what?” Mary Margaret inquired as she pulled off her hat and gloves. She ran her fingers through her shot cap of black hair as Ruby slid her a cup of coffee.
“Belle’s mad at me for setting her up with Gary,” Ruby confessed with a grin.
Mary Margaret wrinkled her nose at Belle while trying to picture her smooching the large sports nut. “Really?” she said in disbelief, “I just can’t see that.”
“Tell me about it,” muttered Belle into her coffee.
XOXOXOXOX
Mr. Gold would never consider himself a gossip. Certainly one did not have to be a gossip-monger in the small town of Storybrooke to hear all the juicy details of most of the town’s inhabitants (both real and embellished as the speaker chose). One just had to quietly listen while taking morning tea at Granny’s. He sat alone in the small booth near the counter and didn’t even consider himself an eavesdropper. But, as one who dealt primarily in the misfortune of others would be a fool not to keep the proverbial ear to the ground. It was a lesson well learned that he should have all the information before he made most deals—magic or no magic—Gold was not a fool.
Well, maybe just a wee bit foolish, he thought with a good deal of self-mockery, where Belle was concerned.
He had awoken in this new world, still having his memories because he created the curse, and nearly been knocked flat when he had seen her walk past his pawn shop and down to the town square and into the old library. In the perverse way of the curse he created, he knew that her “absence” had been explained as “going to college.” He also knew that she was the town librarian, that her name here was Belle French, and that they had never spoken to each other but knew of each other in the way that people know of each other in small towns.
Whenever he saw her walking around in this strange, cursed little town his heart would begin tripping erratically. It took all of his considerable will power not to rush over to her, pull her into his embrace, and weep tears of love onto her lovely blue sundress. He knew she did not remember him—the curse would never allow for that bit of happiness—and he didn’t wish to frighten her with a mad, crippled old man blubbering about undying love. No, he hadn’t approached her (and it had made his teeth ache and his hands shake with longing to just stand there and watch her walk by) but he had started observing her.
It was merely observation, he told himself, which led him to know that she liked to come to Granny’s in the morning for coffee and conversation with Ruby and Mary Margaret. His observational powers also told him that she always had exactly two cups of coffee, with a large dollop of cream and a tiny sprinkle of sugar. She always wore her hair down when she was happy—which, as near as he could tell, was most of the time. However, when she wore her hair in a braid, like today, she was in a foul mood and not inclined to put up with her own errant curls. He also observed that she had moved out of her father’s house—thank the bloody stars for that—and lived in the small apartment offered to the library’s caretaker, and that she was not currently seeing anyone.
He had also convinced himself that watching her through the big picture windows of the library was also merely to gather information on his wayward housekeeper. It wasn’t that his eyes were hungry for the sight of her, or that his breath caught whenever he saw her smile at a customer. That damnable smile had been his undoing in their world—it lit up the whole damn county and made the object of the smile feel as though he was mighty indeed. When he had the Dark One’s power at his disposal, he had often fantasied about seeing Belle smile at him while he ran his hands over her lush curves, tangled his fingers in her thick curls, and watching that smile turn a little wild in a frenzy of passion as he whispered dark promises in her ear. Yet, while the curse was upon them, he only permitted himself to watch, and wait. He called himself a miserable, cowardly lech because he could not bring himself to talk to her.
While Gold had been lost in his musings, Emma Swan sauntered into Granny’s. Now there is a suspicious creature, he thought mildly when her eyes narrowed upon him. She scanned the room for possible threats, and apparently he qualified. He smiled sardonically at her and dipped his head in acknowledgment. Emma nodded briskly before turning to the counter to join the other ladies.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
Emma took in all Granny’s customers—it was difficult to think of the group as regulars when this was the only real restaurant in town, so where else would people choose to go? The diner was doing steady business, but that Mr. Gold was sitting alone and unnoticed in the small booth near the counter seemed to surprise her. How did the most powerful man in town manage to go unnoticed? He practically generated his own magnetism—like a predator one should keep her eyes on unless she wishes to be bitten.
Emma shook off the creepy feeling as she slid next to Mary Margaret and Belle at the counter. She listened patiently as belle bemoaned her latest dating disaster. Emma sniggered, “Where do you meet these guys?”
Ruby glanced guiltily at Belle, “that would be my fault.”
“No, not really,” Belle said with a wry smile, “it’s not like there are many dating options in Storybrooke. And really, the only people who want to date the librarian have this fantasy about the sexy librarian scolding them for overdue library books.”
Emma could have sworn she heard Gold choke on his tea, and couldn’t really blame him. Belle French was not known for her lascivious thinking, and it amused Emma to see the little librarian unbend enough to show her disgust. “It sounds like you need a way to broaden your search,” Emma mused aloud. She turned to expand upon her plan when she saw the three girls staring at her. “You know, a way to meet like-minded people…”
Belle snorted, “What shall I do? Wish on a star? Make a deal with the devil?
“You’re the one who has been fighting so hard to update the computers in the library,” Emma pointed out, “why don’t you use them?” Emma was referring to Belle’s most recent scheme to get more patrons at the library—a computer wing. So far she had raised enough money to install seven new computers, including the laptop for her office, and a large scale printer. Ushering the library into the 21st century had taken a great deal of campaigning on her part, but the library was thriving because of her efforts.
However, Belle, Mary Margaret and Ruby still seemed confused as to what Emma was referring. They looked at each other before turning back to Emma with their eyebrows raised in confusion. Really? I have to spell it out for them? Emma groaned inwardly. “What about internet dating sites?”
Belle felt the color start to creep up her neck and stain her cheeks when she realized what Emma was suggesting, “What about them?”
“Well, they’re definitely a new direction,” Emma stated matter-of-factly.
Belle could feel her flush deepen and looked to Ruby or Mary Margaret for assistance. She couldn’t join an online dating site… could she? To her surprise, both of her friends were regarding her with something like interest. They were intrigued by this idea! “You can’t be serious,” Belle yelped, “I’m not that desperate—I’m still young--“ she ran out of arguments on a gulp.
“Honey,” Ruby said quietly taking Belle’s hand across the counter, “no one is saying you’re desperate—we just want you to be happy. You never used to mind that you didn’t date anyone, but recently, you’ve been looking for a relationship, so maybe this is another option for you to consider.”
Belle gaped at Ruby. Sure, it was true that Belle never used to date anyone—not that anyone had really asked—but she hadn’t wanted a relationship then. The girls she went to college with used to tease her that she would never date anyone because she was in love with Austin’s prideful Mr. Darcy or Bronte’s dashing Mr. Rochester. She couldn’t help but admit that she wanted a powerful man who knew his own mind, but what Belle wanted wasn’t the bloodless text on a page, she wanted the passion whispered about in literature, and she couldn’t see the point in wasting her time on oafs like Gary who were only passionate about sports.
“Isn’t there a statistic somewhere that says 1 in 5 relationships now begin online?” asked Mary Margaret, ever the teacher.
“Yea, I’ve heard that!” Ruby said gaining enthusiasm.
“Can you really get to know someone through a machine? I mean isn’t that a little impersonal?” Belle asked grudgingly warming to the subject.
“Why not?” asked Mary Margaret, “People used to write letters back in the day to get acquainted, right?”
“Besides,” reasoned Emma, “the internet allows you to think before you speak. It makes people brave because you don’t have to speak to someone in person. You can put your best foot forward, you know?”
“But does that mean people… misrepresent themselves?” Belle wondered.
Everyone knew about Emma’s lie-detecting-super-power, and that she had been a bail bonds person before she came to Storybrooke. If anyone would know about life outside of town, it would be her. “Eh, you get your typical weirdos,” she shrugged, “but more people are surprisingly honest—they use the website as a way to meet people that they typically wouldn’t, so it’s not something to take lightly.”
“Huh,” Belle mused, “well it would certainly give me… options.”
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
Gold’s hands trembled as he delicately set down his teacup. If he gripped it any tighter, he feared he would shatter the cup and draw unnecessary attention to himself. He left a twenty on the table, an extremely generous tip for Ruby, and slipped out of Granny’s before he lost control.
It makes people brave, Emma’s cavalier comment was swirling over and over through his mind. He heard it repeating in the rhythm of his awkward shuffle down the sidewalk on the way to his pawn shop. It makes—peo-ple—bra-ve—It makes—peo-ple—bra-ve…
Rumplestiltskin, who was now Mr. Gold, was a coward. He had sought the Dark One’s power to change his son’s life because he had been so afraid he was powerless. Then, even when that power had lost him Bae, and some marvelously wicked twist of fate had allowed Belle to love him, he was so afraid to lose that power that he had thrown her out of his house. Darkness and fear had ruled his life as long as he could remember—and he could remember centuries.
He pondered his choices as he unlocked his pawn shop. He limped through the gloom, breathing in the comforting scent of dust and age and precious objects. Gold had convinced himself that he had stayed away from Belle for her protection—the curse would never allow them to be together. Yet, if he was honest with himself, he was terrified that if Belle got to know him without the magic and mystery of The Dark One she would never love him; after all, his Belle had first come with Rumplestiltskin because it was the brave thing to do. He was old, he was crippled, and though he might be the same person underneath, would she want him without that thrill of danger to spice the relationship? Perhaps his only choice was to continue to ache as he watched her, remember the softness of her lips, and wonder what sounds she might make if he snatched her out of her librarian’s chair and ravished her mouth his tongue.
Then again, another part of him whispered, if she had the chance to know me without knowing who I really am….
The thought was interrupted by chime of the bell announcing a visitor to his shop. Gold turned, a pain in his leg throbbing and faced the customer with an expression between a polite smile and a pained grimace. When he saw who was at the door, blinking to adjust to the shop’s dimness, he had to grab onto the counter for support. As if his thoughts had conjured her, Belle French walked smiling into Gold’s shop.