Summary: AU, no curse: Rumford Gold, homeless on the streets of Storybrooke after losing his ex-wife and son in a car crash, is stuck in a never ending rut. His life is drastically changed when he stumbles across a homeless woman who seems to be just as lost as he is.
Chapter summary: Rum can't shake the feeling that this woman needs something...or someone. Meanwhile, Belle tries running away from both her past and future and ends up running into some painful memories.
Rating: M
A/N: I am so happy to be getting back to this story!! It was my first real fic and I'm hoping to be on a much more regular update schedule! Please enjoy!
Also on ff.net and Ao3! My masterlist is here!
Belle took two steps away from the shelter and felt her resolve to leave nearly crumble. The wind and the rain were ice cold and fell with enough force to sting. She drew the hood of her bedraggled sweatshirt up over her head, tying the string to hold it in place.
It was pointless to stand and debate a decision already made. Belle could think, but she'd might as well be moving at the same time. She wasn't from Storybrooke, not originally, and it had been many months since she last stepped foot inside its boundaries.
Much had changed. Much hadn't changed at all. One thing in specific had remained the same after all the years, Belle had no place to go.
Storybrooke, 3 months ago
"Who is this man?" Emma Swan, Storybrooke's sheriff, wondered to herself out loud. The man's body had been found in the woods outside town, reported by some hikers. Unfortunately, no missing persons had been reported and the man carried no identification.
Storybrooke was a small enough town though that getting someone to recognize him shouldn't be a problem. She grabbed her cellphone, making a call to the morgue to come pick up the body. She sent a text to her assistant Graham describing the man hoping he could do some preliminary digging on his name.
In the meantime, she'd just have to wonder.
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Rumford made it another two steps before almost falling flat on his face, again. This blasted rain was making it damn near impossible to walk. Walking with cane, food and coffee was easier than fighting the rivulets of water destroying his traction.
He grit his teeth slipping once more on the wet concrete. Why was he doing this in the first place? That woman meant nothing to him, he could turn around and seek out some modicum of peace until the rain stopped. He grumbled again as the rain seemed to fall even harder on his head.
There was something about this woman. Something had flashed in her eyes when she'd looked at them, briefly, but it was there. Something he saw reflected in his own eyes on the rare occasion he was accosted with his own reflection.
Burden.
This woman was carrying something that was literally dragging her down, something beyond mere "baggage". Everyone carried something in their past that weighed them down in one way or another but this woman's eyes had shown so much more than that.
Even if he couldn't help her, he could give her some place out of the rain. Making sure she was dry was suddenly extremely important.
Rum gritted his teeth as the falling sleet seemed to turn even colder against his skin. The rags he called clothing did little to stop the onslaught of the weather but at least they were a layer of protection. Somewhat.
Using his hand to attempt to shield some part of his face, he peered down the street. Understandably, the road was deserted. All the better, Rum wouldn't have to worry about darting out of a car's way. Not that he could really dart, but it'd be one less thing to think about.
Finally, peaking over the next rise, Rum could see the reddish thatched roof of the Nolan's cottage. If the woman hadn't come back to this place, Rum didn't have any idea where she could've gone.
Putting one foot in front of the other, he struggled forward again, the light rise of the hill causes rivulets of water to slide between him. Another step and Rum's foot almost slipped out from under him...again.
He muttered under his breath, cursing everything from the rain itself to the shoes covering his feet. He cautiously placed his cane on the ground a little behind himself, trying hard to compensate for the increasing slope of the ground. Only a couple more steps and he’d be able to see into the Nolan’s front yard and hopefully, find the woman. Find her, and get both of them out of the damn rain.
Slightly panting, Rum crested the small hill feeling an odd rush of endorphins. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually exerted himself outside the pursuit of alcohol or food. He almost felt euphoric, as if he'd run a marathon, besides the cane and ruined knee of course.
He drew himself out of the odd daydream his caffeine addled brain had thrown up and scanned his eyes through the bushes surrounding the Nolans' cottage.
This bloody fucking rain.
Shaking his sodden hair out of his eyes only succeeded in helping his sight for a total of two seconds before the deluge managed to drag more lanky stands back down his face. It was high time to find this mysterious woman.
The large hedges surrounding the two sides of the property were rather large and dense. If the woman had wedged herself under one of them she'd not only be covered in scratches but unable to be seen. The bushes that created a "fence" across the front of the ground were much more likely. The bushes were full, but stood a mere foot to a foot and a half off the ground. For such a wee woman, that would be the place to fit.
His eyes cased the bushes closest to him a feeling of disappointment sneaking up inside him when he couldn't find any indicator of a person hiding. He'd have to get closer. Gritting his teeth, he slipped down the sidewalk until he practically tripped into the Nolans' grass.
At least he was close enough to finish his investigation. The two bushes directly in front of him were definitely woman free. The other four, reaching across the front of the yard, would require him to bend down to look. On a good day, his knee would have had a lot to say about this, but today, after spending the entire morning in the cold and the rain, on top of the drinking last night, it was physically impossible.
Rum drug a hand over his face, trying in vain to whisk away any water from his eyes. The rain was coming down even harder now. He had to find this woman soon.
He straightened up before his brain could remind him that this was a completely pointless endeavor and there were plenty of other homeless people on the street who didn't have anywhere to go in the storm. The wind was picking up as he struggled through the increasingly muddy grass, soon it would be downright freezing. Rum was glad it wasn't likely to snow during this time of year.
A few more steps brought him to the middle of the bushes, the Nolans' gate banging slightly in the wind. From this vantage point he could see under all of the remaining bushes, save for a smallish one right at the end.
All of the bushes had ground under them, no woman in sight. Rum sighed, guiltily relieved that he could go back to his overpass and try and sleep out the storm and his lingering hangover symptoms. He could feel his brain laughing at him for traipsing out in this weather looking for a perfect stranger.
Rum had ignored his biggest rule since he'd found himself on the streets: look after himself.
He turned away from the cottage, the rain coming down the hardest it had all morning and the sky had turned nearly black. It was going to be insane to climb up even the slight hill to get back to his overpass, but it was all he could do. He'd put one foot onto the concrete that was his eternal enemy when he heard the slightest noise over the pounding of the rain.
Great. Now he was hearing things. He un-stuck his foot from the mud with a slight squelching sound. He’d probably heard a bird or something. Two more steps and the annoying little noise sounded again. If it was a bird, it sounded absolutely pitiful, probably on its way to being dead, especially in this weather. Another strong gust of wind forced Rum’s jacket nearly off his shoulders.
A shudder wracked his body. He had to get out of this. Both feet had made it to the concrete when the noise made its loudest appearance yet. Even with the wind and the rain pounding in his face the fact that the noise was so loud made him realize he had been wrong. The noise wasn’t some bird, or other animal, trapped in a bush, the noise was a sob.
The woman.
Rush slipped as he pivoted too quickly on the glassy surface nearly losing his balance. The sobs were coming more quickly now and definitely human. The smallest bush on the end only had a mere foot or so between the bottom of its branches and the wet mud, but if there was one distinguishing fact Rum could remember about the woman, it was that she was tiny.
The bush was in danger of being uprooted by the wind by the time Rum had made it through the mud to take a closer look. He planted his cane into the muddy ground as deeply as he dared and bend over at the waist desperately trying not to lose his balance.
Sure enough, as he bent, he could see the smallest shoe stuck under the bush. He’d found her. He didn’t have time to stop and think about how happy that made him. But now that he’d found her, he didn’t have any way to get her attention or get her out of the bush without startling her. Homeless people were often prodded at simply for fun by cruel people. The last thing Rum wanted to do was making the poor thing thing she was being hurt or kidnapped.
“Miss?!” He yelled, trying to make his voice carry above the weather. “Miss, are you alright? Can you come out?”
Silence greeted his questions.
“I’m not going to hurt you! This isn’t the best place to be during this storm!”
Again, nothing. His brain laughed at him, he’d been out in this, probably getting sick for nothing. She wouldn’t even respond to him. He took a steadying breath, ready to do the very thing he knew wasn’t the smartest, reach a hand into her sanctuary. He’d pushed the first jutting branch aside when the whole bush seemed to explode and a figure sprinted away from him towards the woods.
“No! Wait!” Rum yelled. He struggled upright again. This was pointless. The woman didn’t want any help, she didn’t want to be found. Contrary to the Nolans’ beliefs, she didn’t even look like someone who was fresh to the streets, she was merely clean. Or as clean as someone in their situation could be.
He peered off in the direction the woman had taken off in. The woods surrounding this part of town were thick and uninhabited, not your average camping grounds. She wouldn’t get very far before she’d be tripped up by thick mud, or errant branches, or some wild animal or another.
Rum shivered again. It was getting colder by the minute. If he had to guess by the hypothetical sun, he’d place the time around midday, maybe early afternoon. Judging by the fact that he’d gotten up and gone to the shelter so late it was reasonable to assume that a couple hours had gone by.
He glanced up at the woods again. If trekking to the Nolans in this weather wasn’t the smartest idea, following the woman into the woods was downright idiotic. He had a hard enough time walking with his cane on dry, flat ground, going into a forest during a rainstorm meant he’d more than likely come out with more parts of his body injured.
He heaved a sigh into the heavy rain, he’d have to let her go. For now. Maybe when it wasn’t raining he could try and see her again. Or there was always the possibility of running into her at the shelter. Something inside him told him she was important.
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As soon as that man from the shelter had stepped off the sidewalk into the grass Belle had been aware of him. He had a cane for crying out loud, he wasn’t exactly subtle.
Leaving the shelter had been absolutely necessary yet Belle had regretted her decision with every drop of rain that hit her head. It was nearly freezing as the winds just got more and more vicious. She’d ran haphazardly away from the Nolans shelter only trying to run away from town when she’d spotted the cottage she’d tried to break into this morning. There hadn’t been a car in the driveway or movement inside so Belle had chanced it to try and gain some food.
She was so hungry.
When the man had walked into the kitchen right as she’d been about to break the window, she’d done the only thing she could at the time and dove under the nearest bush. Even with her quick thinking it hadn’t been enough and he’d found her, pulled her inside, and then dragged her down to the shelter for breakfast.
Now, with the increasing wind and rain, she’d have to find some kind of shelter somewhere until the storm subsided. Surveying the cottage, it was empty now, she contemplated breaking in for real this time. She’d have a roof over her head for as long as the Nolans were gone. Her sweatshirt and threadbare jeans were already soaked through, the thin tshirt underneath completely clinging to her skin and her sneakers had taken on water long ago. A warm shower and a dryer would do wonders right now.
She took one step towards the door of the cottage, a cheerful red in color, before she stopped a small sob escaping her throat. She couldn’t break into these peoples’ home. Even if she didn’t want to take advantage of her hospitality they were good people, trying to help people like her. She didn’t want to saddle them with unnecessary home repairs.
Tears began tracking down Belle’s face, mixing with the cascading rain water from the sky. It was hopeless. She’d spent her life on the streets since she was thirteen but she’d never before felt so alone and so in need of a home.
She gulped in watery air, trying desperately to stop crying. Her hormones were all over the place from...well, it was better if she didn’t dwell on anything that wasn’t set in stone. She glanced over at the bushes lining the property. She might as well hide under one of them until she had any sort of plan, it wasn’t smart to just keep walking around.
The littlest bush on the end butted up to the large hedges that framed the sides of the property so Belle wiggled her way underneath, the bush’s leaves protesting her presence. The dirt underneath had already turned into mud and the tears returned in full force as her wet clothes simply became sodden under the weight of the filth.
It wasn’t fair. Belle hadn’t asked for this. She hadn’t asked for her mother to die, or her father to drink himself to death, or for the foster system to be so damn cruel. She wasn’t supposed to end up on the streets, hiding in the mud, alone. She’d had plans for her life. She covered her head with her hood allowing the sobs to escape once more. There was no one there to hear her cry.
She’d been perfectly happy allowing herself a little wallowing when that man had shown up. The one that had sat across from her at the shelter. What on earth was he doing here? Maybe he was looking for the Nolans… but if he’d come from the shelter, he’d have known they were there.
He started calling out for a “miss”. A woman? Oh gods was he looking for her?! Why would this man be looking for her? She hadn’t even made eye contact with him this morning. His calls were getting louder. She couldn’t let him find her.
Wiggling slightly, she buried herself more into the bush, a sob escaping her when an errant branch pushed into her back. She began to move more slowly not wanting to cause her poor sweatshirt any more damage. It was all she had left.
The man’s voice had stopped. Belle was almost disappointed it had. It was soothing with its slight Scottish brogue. It had been so long since she’d simply spoken to another human being. Spoken to like she was a real person, not simply a means to facilitate charity. Homelessness meant people either looked at her like an imposition or like a way to show off how “good” they were. Both were exhausting.
When would someone simply see her?
The thought made another soft sob break free and the man’s shoes squelched nearer to her. When his voice rang out again, more softly this time, it was much closer to her spot in the dirt.
He’d found her.
Belle laid as still as she could manage praying to anything that could hear her that this man would just go away when she felt something nudge against her shoe. Okay. That was it, time to go. She pushed herself up, nearly uprooting the Nolans’ bush and sprinted off in the direction of the woods. Perhaps she could find herself a nice cave and be far away from anyone trying to touch her. No one touched her. Not since that night and no one ever would again.
She’d been running for at least five minutes haphazardly changing directions and trying to move deeper into the cover of the woods. She finally came across a small clearing dotted with a couple young trees when she knew exactly where she was.
Belle sank to the ground in disbelief memories resurfacing from places she didn’t know they existed and nearly knocking her out. No. How had she ended up here? How was this dark place so close to the little cottage? Her sobs returned at full force followed quickly by anger.
“Ms…” Emma Swan looked down at the notes in her hand, “French. Um...I have some bad news, I’m afraid.”
Belle looked down at her feet knowing what was coming and attempting to hide the relief she worried would flood through her.
“We found a body in the woods,” the sheriff continued. “We’re still doing testing but we’re pretty sure it’s the body of Gaston LeFou, who our records indicate lived at this address and was seeing you.” She’d paused at this point, looking up at Belle and seeming to wait for some kind of outburst.
Belle had merely fallen silent.
Emma looked uncomfortable before proceeding with formalities, “You’ll need to come down to the morgue for identification after his body is moved.”
Belle finally made eye contact with the blonde, finding her voice at last. “Um...where is he now? Couldn’t I just I.D. him where you found him and be done?” Her voice shook as she uttered the words that, on the surface, marked her as not only shallow and uncaring, but a little reckless. She didn’t care. She needed to see, needed to know where he had died. “I want to see, where…” Her voice trailed off.
The sheriff looked uncomfortable, as if what Belle was asking was far too much.
“Please.” Belle choked out.
Emma ran her eyes up and down her figure as if searching for something before nodding slowly. “Okay. We’ll leave now.”
Twenty minutes later they’d been standing in a small forest clearing, Gaston covered but visible completely thrown over a boulder. Belle had collapsed as soon as she’d seen him.
It was finally over.
Shaking off the blanket of horror and memory she ran as fast as she could manage in her deteriorating sneakers across the muddy, rocky ground. Entering the actual forest again she was whipped by low hanging branches, dodged larger rocks and logs and splashed across a trickle of a stream before being completely tripped up by an overgrown root. She flew into the ground barely thinking to throw a hand across her face before she was skidding into the forest floor.
She stifled a cry as the rough elements of nature pulled at her clothes and skin. The water had luckily softened the ground but Belle still gasped for breath, the wind having been knocked out of her.
She clutched at her stomach as she rolled onto her back. These clothes were already filthy beyond hope. What was a little more mud? And besides, from this point she could simply watch the rain fall on to her self. While it was raining she could pretend she wasn’t still actually upset and crying.
Underused personalities for Kaya Scodelario or Kat Prescott?
I am of the personal belief that no personality is mundane if you play it properly.
For example, Kaya being a total bitchtit is completely overplayed, but you can still excite people's ovaries if you do it really well. My only warning is that don't take on a personality you cannot handle. That is, if you're not witty, do not play a "witty" character, because adding the word 'quip' into your para doesn't automatically make something intelligent.
Er, but that's besides the point. The point is, rather than looking for underused personalities to suit a faceclaim, just think of a personality you would like to play and give it whatever faceclaim you want.
