Summary: Belle French receives a misdirected package for one Baeden Gold, and she sets about trying to reunite the parcel with its rightful recipient. She never expected to find love along the way.
Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: Mail delivered to the wrong address.
Rated: G
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Forward Post
The parcel had come to the wrong place. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. The parcel had come to the correct place, but it had come to the wrong person.
Belle was still staring at the box a good five minutes after she had come home from work to find it sitting outside her apartment.
She couldn’t deny that the address was definitely hers, so the box had definitely come to the right place.
She was not, however, the Baeden Gold to whom it had been addressed.
Now, normally if Belle received post that had come to her address but not her name, she would do one of two things. She would shred it without opening it, or she would scribble ‘not known at this address, return to sender’ all over it and post it again.
The parcel, however, was a rather sizeable parcel, and as she picked it up to bring it into the apartment, she found that it was really quite heavy. Now, option A was obviously out of the question, and given its size and weight, Belle really didn’t fancy lugging it down to the post office.
She was going to have to do something with it. Baeden Gold would probably be expecting his parcel, especially since Christmas was coming and the parcel was likely to be related to the holiday. She certainly couldn’t just keep the parcel and hope that the Baeden Gold in question would come by and collect it. Given its size and weight and the postage markings on it, whoever had sent the parcel had spent quite a lot on getting it sent, and Belle really wanted it to get to the correct recipient. It had been sent with love and care: it was well-wrapped, and the address was printed neatly by hand. As she set it down on the kitchen table, she saw the return address. There was no name. Well, there wasn’t a name that could help her. The sender had identified themselves as ‘Papa’.
Oh. Oh dear.
Belle could put together a very clear picture of what was going on. A father estranged from his child had sent gifts for Christmas, and they had come to the child’s address too late, after someone else had already re-rented the apartment.
Belle’s brow furrowed. She’d been living here for almost six months; surely that was enough time for a new address to have been communicated to Baeden’s father. Unless they didn’t want their new address to be known by said father for whatever reason.
Belle sat down at the kitchen table, wishing that she knew what to do. Returning to sender would be the best option, but at the same time, she couldn’t get the vision of this unknown man getting his child’s Christmas presents back, and the vision of the child not receiving any Christmas presents from their father, out of her head.
She had to get these presents to this child. Returning to sender would be useless, because Papa Gold - no, that sounded horribly wrong, she needed another way to identify him. Mr Gold, that would do. Because Mr Gold would not have sent the parcel to the wrong address if he had known the correct one.
Belle didn’t know the correct address any better than Mr Gold did, but at least she had a better chance of finding out.
She grabbed her phone and dialled the letting agency. Naturally, it was out of their office hours, but she left a message.
“Hi, this is Belle French from apartment sixteen, I was wondering if you had a forwarding address for the previous tenants? I’ve received a parcel for them. Thanks.”
She hung up and leaned back in the chair; there was nothing more that she could do until morning now. Well, except wonder what the box contained. She’d never open it, but having come into unexpected custody of it, she couldn’t help but imagine. How old was Baeden? What kind of toys did he like? She picked up the box again and shook it very gently, but the weight distribution didn’t change. Whatever it was, it was packed in tightly.
It felt like books. Working in the library, Belle was used to handling boxes of books, and she knew how much they weighed for how little room they took up. This could very well be a box of books.
What books were they? Fantasy? Sci-fi? Picture books? More likely to be picture books; if Baeden was still young enough for his father to be Papa to him, then he probably wasn’t reading Lord of the Rings yet.
The box stayed on her kitchen table overnight, but Belle’s dreams were full of unknown children separated from their fathers and their Christmas presents.
When she checked her emails next morning, there was a message from the letting agency waiting for her with the forwarding address.
Unfortunately, the name that went with the forwarding address was not Baeden Gold.
Well, of course it wasn’t going to be Baeden Gold. If his papa was still sending him Christmas presents then he was hardly old enough to have the lease in his own name.
The name was Milah Cassidy.
Belle looked at it hard for a moment. If Baeden’s father was no longer part of the family unit, then it made sense that his mother might have gone back to her maiden name. Or maybe they had never been married in the first place, and she had never been Milah Gold.
Or maybe Milah Cassidy was entirely unrelated and was just another person who had lived in the apartment, like Belle.
She glared at the box. It was just an ordinary box wrapped in brown paper and sealed with parcel tape; it should not have been causing so many problems. Still, she was determined to get to the bottom of it all, and she was even more determined that Baeden Gold was going to get his books from his papa.
She thought for a moment, and then the solution struck her. There was still a good couple of weeks before Christmas, after all, and she had the return address.
Belle grabbed a sheet of paper and pen and sat down at the table, the box seeming to watch her as she wrote.
Dear Mr Gold (I assume that’s your name from the box)
My name is Belle French and I’ve lived in Apartment Sixteen, Riverside Mansions for the past six months. I’m currently in possession of a parcel that you sent here addressed to a Baeden Gold, who again, from the box, I’m assuming is your son.
I take it from the fact that you sent the box here that you don’t have Baeden’s current address.
I have a forwarding address for the tenant who lived here before me. Please forgive me for not passing this to you for security reasons. I am happy to forward the parcel on your behalf, however, to avoid the same thing happening to someone else as has happened to me, could you please confirm that Baeden is resident with a Ms Milah Cassidy.
Many thanks, Belle French.
She added her phone number - it would be a bit difficult to get the parcel delivered in time if she had to rely on snail mail for all future correspondence - and sealed the envelope.
All she could do now was wait and see.
X
The call came three days later, out of the blue, on her lunch break. When she saw that it was an unknown number, Belle pounced on it and answer after two and a half rings.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Miss Belle French?”
“Speaking.”
“Hello, this is Raymond Gold. I, erm, I got your letter about Bae’s parcel.”
“Hello, Mr Gold.”
For some reason her heart was beating very hard in her chest, and Belle could not for the life of her work out why. Maybe it was his voice, soft and Scottish and nervous, as if he didn’t like making phone calls.
“Milah is Bae’s mother, Cassidy’s her maiden name. I… Do you really have the parcel? I mean, obviously you do, or you wouldn’t have my address… I can’t believe she didn’t tell me she’d moved. No, actually, I can, it’s the kind of thing she’d do…” He tailed off, and Belle could almost feel his embarrassment down the phone. “I’m not weird or dangerous, I swear, we just had a very acrimonious divorce. I won’t ask for the new address or anything, but could you please send it on? I need Bae to know that I’m still around, that I still love him, no matter what his mother might have said.”
The poor man, it sounded like he was at the very end of his rope. Whilst Belle couldn’t vouch for him not being weird or dangerous, she could certainly help to make sure that his son didn’t go without his parcel.
“Of course. I’ll let you know when it’s gone.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much. And thank you for taking the time to do this, rather than just returning it to sender.”
“You’re very welcome, Mr Gold. Thanks for calling.”
She could sense his desperation, and she dreaded to think what he might have done had the parcel arrived on his own doorstep again.
“Thank you.”
They said their goodbyes, and Belle went to get the parcel on the next - and hopefully final - leg of its journey.
She had expected that to be the end of it. She sent a text to Mr Gold’s number to tell him that the parcel had been sent, and she thought that would be it.
But it wasn’t.
Gold replied thanking her again, and then, without even realising it, Belle was having a complete text-based conversation with a man she’d never met, had only spoken to once, and had only found out existed in passing thanks to a misdirected parcel.
She told him what she did, and why she loved being a librarian so much, and she asked if the parcel had contained books because it felt like it did.
He told her that yes, it had books in, because Bae was a voracious and precocious reader for his five years, and that reading bedtime stories was the thing he missed most. He told her about Bae, about himself, about how and why his relationship had ended. Belle told him about her parents, her own heartbreaks, her own loneliness.
Even though he was a stranger, Belle felt that she really knew him, that he was a kindred spirit. They were both lonely, and whilst Gold was painfully aware of his isolation, Belle’s own state only weighed heavy upon her in the moments like this, when she felt that the only person who understood her was hundreds of miles away in a remote corner of Maine.
She had not expected to find a friend as a result of that parcel, but she had definitely found one.
She was surprised when, a week after his first call, Gold called her again. They had been exchanging messages several times a day, but they had not spoken to each other since the initial call.
He was so changed. His voice was still soft and still Scottish and still shy, but it was energised now; there was less desperation in it.
“Bae got his parcel!” he exclaimed happily. “He called me! Everything’s going to be all right!”
Belle felt a huge swell of happiness burst through her veins at the news.
“I’m so glad, Rum, that’s great news.”
All the same, she felt a little sad that they would probably no longer be exchanging messages after this call, and she was so very glad when, half an hour after hanging up, her phone pinged, and their communication continued.
They kept going back and forth throughout the Christmas period. The messaging became almost like a ritual, and Belle found herself counting Rum Gold amongst her closest friends, despite the fact she had no idea what he looked like.
She found out what he looked like four months after their first interaction. The first tentative signs of spring were just about showing, and the chill in the air was no longer as biting cold as it had been all over winter. It was a day to be positive, and there was a spring in Belle’s step as she answered her doorbell.
It became rather a perplexed step when she found a middle-aged man with short greying hair outside, a small boy hanging onto his hand.
“Erm, hi.” The man gave an awkward wave, and Belle recognised his voice immediately. “I should have warned you before, and it’s horribly bad manners just turning up like this, but since I knew your address, and I was in the area anyway… I’m Rum Gold, and this is Bae, and we just wanted to come and thank you in person.”
“Thanks for sending my parcel!” Bae piped up.
“I… You’re very welcome. Would you like to come in for some tea, or hot cocoa?”
“Yes!” Bae said.
“No, we can’t I’m afraid,” Rum said. “We’ve got to get to a meeting. But… maybe we could meet tomorrow? We’ll still be in town.” He paused. “I’m getting full custody of Bae; he’s coming home to Storybrooke with me. We’re signing the final paperwork today.”
“It’s going to be great!” Bae certainly seemed very happy at the prospect of being with his dad again, and Belle was so relieved that everything had turned out for the best.
“Tomorrow would be perfect.” Belle smiled. “I’m so happy that everything worked out for you.”
“Well, I couldn’t have done it without you.” Rum had gone rather pink around the ears. “If it hadn’t been for talking with you so much, I would never have got the courage to start the proceedings. So, the cocoa is definitely on me tomorrow.” He paused. “I hope that we can continue talking, even after this is over?”
Belle nodded. “We definitely can. It’s been great to meet you in person at last. And… I really hope that tomorrow won’t be the last time?”
Rum smiled. “It certainly doesn’t have to be. You know where I live, after all.”
“And you definitely know where I live.”
They both laughed. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship, with the prospect of it becoming so much more. And it had all started with one innocuous parcel.
Summary: Belle is the one to be sucked into Zelena’s time portal with Emma, and they find themselves in a very different time to the one they had anticipated, arriving to see the confrontation between Hook and a pre-Dark One Rumpelstiltskin. They manage to return to the future, but with some unintentional stowaways. With Rumpelstiltskin removed from his own timeline, the universe throws a fit, and it’s a race against time to set things straight.
Rated: T for now, but it may go up in later chapters.
Once she was on her way back to the pink house with Rumpel and little Bae, Belle felt a weight lift off her shoulders. The gravity of their situation was still pressing on her very hard indeed, but now she only had to focus on one thing. As worried as she was about Gold and whether or not he would still be there when she next came to the pawn shop, she knew that there was absolutely nothing she could do to change his outcome, and all she could do was trust that he knew what he was doing.
She hoped that he could find a way to put everything to rights, because if he couldn’t do it, then she was fairly sure that no one could.
“That was me.” Rumpel had not spoken for most of the journey back to the house, and Belle glanced over at him now. He looked pensive, concerned. “Me in the future. The me that you knew before.”
She nodded. “Yes, it was.”
Rumpel did not reply, and Belle had to wonder how he was finding it. She had been more concerned for Gold seeing the man that he had once been, knowing how much he had always held what he perceived to be his previous cowardice in contempt.
Now though, she realised that Rumpel might have just as intense a reaction to seeing his future self, although for different reasons. For all they were the same man, for all they looked the same, they were very different in outward appearance. Gold’s fine suits, despite being from a completely different realm and a completely different time, would nevertheless have been an obvious mark of wealth to his former self. There was also the small matter of his limp, Gold’s now cured with magic but still very visible on Rumpel.
Even just seeing him through the shop window must have been a shock, and whilst Belle wondered what Rumpel thought of his future self, a larger part of her did not want to know. In her mind, they were the same person and yet different at the same time. Having been through so much in the intervening three hundred years, of course they were going to be different, but maybe to each other, they were unrecognisable.
She wondered if Rumpel was scared or intrigued by the man that he was to become. Not that it would make much difference in the long run. If they were to put the timeline to rights, then Rumpel could not remember anything of what had occurred since Belle and Emma first came into his life. Any warnings or lessons from his older self would necessarily be forgotten.
Belle found that she didn’t mind that. She had fallen in love with Rumpel towards the end of his current timeline, and despite their ups and downs, and despite all of the heartbreak that they had endured, she would not change him for the world. He would not be the man he was today had this poor spinner not been through everything that he had, as much as Belle wanted to spare him that pain.
“I didn’t see Bae,” Rumpel said presently. “I was sure that I would recognise him, even if he was an adult.”
Belle’s heart pounded painfully in the back of her throat. She couldn’t tell him what would happen to Bae in the future. That would just be cruel. She glanced over her shoulder to where he was dozing in the back seat of the car.
“I’m sure that he’s around somewhere,” she said, wishing that it were true. “After all, people are vanishing and reappearing with great regularity. He’ll turn up.”
Rumpel nodded and rubbed his forehead again. The headache seemed to be getting worse, and Belle knew that it would be affecting Gold as well. The two of them were linked across the years; what one of them experienced, the other one would by proxy.
“I’ll find you some aspirin,” she said as she let them into the house. Bae had woken up and was toddling along after his father, gazing in dumbfounded wonderment at all the curios of the modern world that Gold’s house had to offer. She gave them a quick tour and a brief introduction to the concepts of electricity and modern plumbing, finally getting them settled in the kitchen with tea and toast with honey. Bae was fascinated by the toaster and Rumpel had to keep pulling his fingers back where they were constantly creeping towards the slots to see what magic made the bread hot.
“No, Bae. It’s dangerous. You’ll burn yourself.”
“It’s magic!” Bae exclaimed, and Belle had to smile. Bae was so curious about this new world that he had found himself in, and once he had found his feet and was reassured that his Papa wasn’t going anywhere, he was excited about exploring everything that his new surroundings had to offer, showing no fear.
“When you’re done eating, I’ll show you your room,” Belle said, more to Bae than to Rumpel, in the hope of distracting him from the toaster before he could cause himself an injury. For all his wide-eyed wonder, Bae was showing all the signs of tiredness, and the day was wearing on. “I think it would be best if you slept in the spare room; I’ll just be down the corridor.”
“It’s all right, really,” Rumpel tried to protest, but Belle just fixed him with a look that had always worked in the Dark Castle and that worked again now.
“The very least that I can do for you is give you a nice warm bed, Rumpel,” she said.
“I know, but you’ve already done so much, and everything here’s so nice.” He still couldn’t get to grips with the idea that this was his home in the future, that his fortunes could have changed so much to be living in such luxury – even though so much in the house was a foreign concept to him, he could still clearly see the marks of wealth and taste. “We wouldn’t want to make anything dirty.”
“As I explained before, we have plenty of hot running water,” Belle said gently. “You’re welcome to take a bath if you’d like, and I can find you some clean clothes. When we have more than we need, it makes sense to share it.”
Considering that Rumpel had shared his own meagre reserves with her and Emma, it more than made sense, and although still a little wary, he agreed. Belle went to run a bath and set about finding some suitable clothes. There was nothing really small for Bae, so she settled on one of Gold’s undershirts and some boxer shorts, and pyjamas for Rumpel.
Considering that they were the same person, the pyjamas looked ridiculously big on him when he returned to the kitchen having got Bae settled for the night. Even though Belle had always thought of him as a man on the small side, it just went to show much difference a couple of hundred years of proper nutrition and a life away from the hardships of poverty could do. If they sent Rumpel and Bae back to their own timeline with a good meal inside them, then that would be something.
“Thank you,” Rumpel said, coming to sit down at the table with her. “I… I don’t think that I can thank you enough for everything. This is all so… overwhelming.”
“It’s nothing,” Belle assured him.
“I suppose I just can’t understand why… how…” Rumpel sighed. “I don’t deserve all the kindness that you’re showing me, Belle. I have nothing to offer you in return.”
“Oh Rumpel.” Belle reached out to touch his cheek, noting how he leaned in against her palm almost without realising that he was doing it. She wondered just how long it had been since anyone had touched him with care and affection like this. Milah may only just have left him, but they had certainly not been on good terms for a long while beforehand. “It’s my pleasure. You took care of Emma and me when we were trapped in the Enchanted Forest, and now I’m taking care of you and Bae whilst you’re trapped here. I know you, Rumpel. I may not know you, personally, as well as I will know you in the future, but I do know that you deserve to be loved and cared for. Everyone deserves that, and you especially. People don’t do the right thing for some kind of reward. They do it because it's right.”
“Belle, I think you might just be the most remarkable person I’ve ever met. And the scariest thing is that I don’t know whether or not I’ve met you before.”
Belle’s brow furrowed and she stroked his cheek where she was still touching him. He showed no signs of pulling away, and the motion seemed to soothe him. “What do you mean?”
Rumpel rubbed his forehead with the slightest of grimaces that he tried hard to hide quickly.
“It’s not just this headache that’s bothering me,” he admitted. “I keep having flashes… Like memories, but not, and I don’t think that they can be daydreams. I don’t think that I could dream up the things I’m seeing.”
“What kind of things?”
“I see you,” Rumpel said. “But not as you are now. You’re dressed as a fine lady, in golden silk and jewels… Not that you’re not a fine lady now, of course, but your dress… It’s from the old world, and I know I’ve never seen anything like that before in my life.”
Belle nodded slowly. “I did own such a dress, yes. I was wearing it when we first met – in my past and your future.”
“Belle, do you think I’m seeing the future?”
“I… I don’t know. This isn’t something that I’ve ever encountered before. I think that maybe these are memories of another life. They’re glimpses of the future for you, but for your future self, they’re memories. You’re the same person, so maybe you’re sharing these memories now. Your future self is experiencing the same headaches as you because there are two of you existing in the same space. It makes sense that other things might pass across the connection, like memories. Although, obviously, your future self has all the memories that you do, so in this case it would only affect you, memories that you haven’t lived yet, but will in your future.”
“Will I?” Rumpel looked around the room at the overwhelming present that he had found himself in, looking scared and dejected. “I’m beginning to think that there’s no hope of us ever getting home. And even if we do, how can we be sure that everything will happen in the same way that it has done? If you and I have already met, even if, by some miracle, you can take me and Bae back to exactly the same time that we left, then the future has already changed.”
Belle couldn’t deny it, he certainly had a point.
“I’m sure that we can make it right. You may not realise it yet, but your knowledge of magic is second to none.”
“I don’t know the first thing about magic.” He paused. “Well, that’s not strictly true. I know that it tends to end in disaster.”
Belle thought about the limited experiences of magic that this Rumpel had, just his traumatic trips through portals to and from Neverland courtesy of his father, and the seer’s prophecy that would cause him so much pain. There really was no wonder that he was so pessimistic about their chances.
“It will come with time. You’ll see.”
Maybe he did see. Belle’s blood ran cold. If he was seeing memories from his future, then who knew what he might be seeing. Becoming the Dark One, being separated from Bae, reuniting with him only to lose him again and again.
“Rumpel… Are you seeing anything else in these visions of the future that you’re having?” she asked quickly.
“For the most part it’s just you,” Rumpel admitted. His face had gone very red, and Belle thought it incredibly charming. “I think you ground me. Thank you.”
Belle smiled. “You’re very welcome.” She took both his hands in hers where they were sitting limply on the table. “I will ground you for as long as you need me to. But try not to think about the visions too much. I don’t think that there’s anything to be concerned about.”
She would never forgive herself if he saw something that he didn’t want to happen and set about changing the course of history in order to prevent it. Even keeping him focussed on her was not the best idea, considering the number of times that she and Rumpel had been separated over the course of their too-short time together. At least he knew that whatever might have happened in the past between them, they were on course for a happy ending now, which was sadly more than could be said for his relationship with Neal, cruelly cut short before amends could be made.
“Maybe you’ll feel better if you rest,” she said. “It’s been a very long day for all of us, and I’m sure that you could use a bed as much as I could.”
Rumpel nodded. “Yes, you’re right.” He rose from the table, and Belle stood with him, holding out his stick. “Thank you for everything that you’ve done.”
There was still wonder in his voice, as if despite her words he still could not believe that she would do so much for him and Bae, and it made Belle’s heart melt.
She leaned in close, putting her hands gently on his shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, which flamed even redder than before in response.
“You are worth it, Rumpel,” she said. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Rendered speechless by this tenderness, Rumpel nodded and left the room as fast as his leg could take him. Belle wondered if she had been too presumptuous, but she felt for this Rumpel in the same way she felt for the man she had known all this time. Despite their differences, they were the same person, and she was finding the lines in her mind between them beginning to blur a little.
Belle sighed. That was a complication that this whole temporal mess could certainly do without.
A @rumbellechristmasinjuly gift for @prissyhalliwell. Enjoy!
Summary: Storybrooke library is hosting a summer theatre camp. Librarian and camp co-ordinator Belle French and parent-of-a-camper Cameron Gold use it to try and get to grips with their burgeoning feelings for one another.
Rated: T
Prompt: “That’s not my son.”
=====
On with the Show
DRAMA SUMMER CAMP AT STORYBROOKE LIBRARY - SIGN UP TODAY!
The brightly coloured poster had been up in the window of the library for the past six weeks and today, being the first day of the school summer vacation, was the last chance to sign up before it began on Monday. Gold looked from the poster down towards his son, who was staring intently at the sign and looking for all the world like the decision about whether or not to go was one of life or death.
To be fair, for Bae, it probably felt that serious. Gold was well aware of the fact that his son was painfully shy, and his previous experiences at summer camps had led to him tearfully declaring that he was never going to leave home ever again. Signing up to something like this was a huge undertaking.
Still, this time there were some mitigating factors. For a start, the library was only across the road from the pawn shop and only ten minutes' walk from the Golds' house, so Bae could always just run away to safety if the worst came to the worst. He would be sleeping in his own bed at night and coming home to his dad's cooking more often than not (Miss French had promised a barbecue in the library garden one evening).
Another incentive was Emma Nolan, who had eagerly signed up on the first day that the poster had appeared and had talked of practically nothing else throughout the intervening month and a half. Bae and Emma were practically joined at the hip and it was the first time in a long time that Emma was in town for the entirety of the summer break, her mother being about to bring a baby brother into the world at any moment. Naturally, Bae wanted to spend as much time as possible with his best friend before school started again.
The final point firmly in the camp's favour, and in Gold's eyes the most important point was Miss French herself, the librarian who had personally organised the camp out of her own pocket and was justly proud of all the work that had gone into it and just as eager as Emma to get started. Belle French was universally adored by all of the children who frequented the library, and by their parents. One parent in particular.
Gold peered past the bright poster into the library proper, squinting against his own reflection in the window. Belle was sitting at the issue desk absorbed in a book, which Gold had come to learn was her usual aspect. He'd wondered more than once if she had read the entire library. There was a secretive little smile on her face, as if she'd just got to a particularly juicy part in her story, and Gold looked away sharply, trying to distract himself both from that specific train of thought and from the delightful curve of Miss French's full lips. Thankfully, Bae spoke at that point and he was able to come back to the real world after his flights of fancy involving the librarian. Really, he was too old to be thinking of such things.
"What do you think I should do, Papa?"
Gold sighed, wishing he knew how best to counsel his son. He wasn't exactly the most sociable of people himself, and he was glad that summer camps had never featured in his own childhood. He would never force Bae to do anything he wasn't entirely comfortable with, unlike Milah who'd told him to man up and shipped him away from home at the earliest opportunity. On the other hand, he didn't want Bae to miss out on what promised to be a week of fun with his friends. The aim of the camp was to get the children interested in plays and drama, with them rehearsing their own play, making props and costumes, and performing to the parents on the last afternoon in the library garden.
"Well," Gold began, trying to reach a compromise. "If you decide not to go, and if Emma starts telling you about it, will you be jealous that you're not having a great time here with her?"
Bae looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded. "I guess so."
"Why don't you go along and see what it's like, and you can always stop if you don't enjoy it." He paused, before adding what he hoped was a stroke of genius. "I'm sure you don't need to act in the play if you don't want to. There are lots of things to do in theatres that don't happen on the stage. You could pull the curtain." It belatedly occurred to him that if they were performing outside, then there probably wouldn't be a curtain, but hopefully the message would still ring true in intent if not in actuality.
At this reassurance, Bae gave a more decided nod.
"All right. Let's do it."
They entered the library and Gold was very glad of Bae's presence. Every other time he went in on his own and had to talk to Belle, all words went entirely out of his head and the usual confident demeanour with which he conducted business vanished. Perhaps that was why Belle was one of the few people in town who didn't treat him with something akin to fear: because he could only act like a complete idiot around her. Jefferson, someone else who was not scared of him because it was not in that man's nature to fear anything, remarked that it was the most obvious case of twitterpation that he had ever seen, which didn't help matters.
Belle looked up as they approached the desk, putting down her book and giving them a brilliant smile.
"Mr Gold, Bae. It's lovely to see you. What can I do for you today?"
Bae opened his mouth to state their purpose, but his nerves failed him at the last minute and he looked to his father for assistance.
"We'd like to sign up for the drama camp, please."
"Of course! The more the merrier. You're just in time." She rooted under the desk and came up triumphant with a clipboard, which she passed to Gold to fill in Bae's details on the sign-up sheet. There were quite a few names there already, Emma's at the top of the list, but the nature of the event meant that they were all local children whom Bae would know from school. As Gold wrote, Bae looked up at Belle.
"Will I have to act?" he asked.
"Not if you don't want to. We'll need people to move the scenery and pull the curtain." So, there was going to be a curtain after all. "And of course, we'll need a prompter to whisper to the actors if they forget their lines. I'm sure that you could do that, you're always so quiet."
Bae certainly perked up at the idea of being a prompter, and he brightened even more when Belle leaned over the desk and whispered: "Between you and me, we could do with some more people like you who don't mind not being on the stage. I'm not sure I've got enough parts for everyone." At this, Bae giggled, and Gold knew that the deal was sealed. Hopefully, Bae would last the week out and might make some more friends into the bargain. Not that there was anything wrong with only having a few close friends; Gold himself was a case in point, but after so many years of thinking that it was better to be feared than loved, he had learned his lesson hard and late, and he was determined not to instil the same sense in Bae.
He handed the clipboard back to Belle who stowed it back under the desk, and he distracted himself from the brush of her soft fingers against his hand by wondering aloud if she'd have any more last-minute sign-ups.
"I'm not sure. A lot of people have the tendency to change their mind at the last minute."
Gold wondered if it was an allusion to himself. Very often he had found himself going up to the counter with a pile of books to check out, only to go away and pick different ones because he was scared of what she might think of his choices. That was how come he'd ended up checking out Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare when he already owned a well-thumbed and much-loved copy at home.
For a long time, he and Belle just looked at each other, as if each of them was expecting the other to say something. Unfortunately, under Belle's beautiful blue gaze, everything remotely intelligent flew clean away from him and the only word that Gold would be able to articulate in that moment would have been something along the lines of 'mwawp'. He looked away before he could drown in her eyes any further, giving an awkward cough.
"We, erm, we'd best be off then. We'll see you tomorrow, Miss French."
"Bye, Miss French."
He turned and left the library, Bae still beside him completely unaware of the mental chaos that his father was going through, and Gold spent the entire journey home mentally kicking himself for the inanity of the conversation. Or the non-conversation, they hadn't really got started and Belle had spent most of the time talking to Bae.
Still, he'd be seeing her every day throughout the coming week. Maybe some kind of opportunity would present itself. As long as his tongue didn't desert him again, of course.
X
After watching father and son leave the library together, Belle slumped in her chair, resting her forehead against the desk with a groan. Yet another wasted opportunity. He had been right there, damn it, and she had once again failed to engage him in conversation. She tried to console herself with the thought that she couldn't exactly ask him out on a date whilst Bae was with him, but that didn't mean she couldn't talk to the man. She could have asked him how he was getting on with Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare, which he had checked out last week. Or if he was having any luck tracing the origins of the vintage typewriter that he'd received into the antique shop a month ago; he'd spent countless hours in the reference section searching for clues to no avail.
"Are you all right?" Marian had come out of the back office where she'd been making a pot of tea and she sounded rather alarmed at finding Belle in her melodramatic position. Belle just grunted her thanks for the tea and reached out for her cup without moving her head.
"You can't drink it like that, you know."
Grudgingly, Belle looked up and she followed Marian's sight line through the doors and up the road towards the vanishing figures of Cameron and Bae Gold. Marian turned to her, trying very hard not to smile.
"Oh, Belle, you've got it bad."
"I know," Belle muttered. "Believe me, I'm the last person that you need to tell."
"Hey, I'm not knocking it. If it's any consolation, I'm pretty sure he feels the same way."
Belle snorted. "Yeah, right. He's a suave businessman with impeccable taste in suits and I'm, well, me."
It was Marian's turn to snort. "Maybe you haven't seen it yourself because you're too busy being ridiculously infatuated with him to notice, but that man is absolutely not suave when you're involved. 'Schoolboy with a hopeless crush' is more like it. Can't disagree with you about the suits though."
"You don't even like him,"
"Well, he drives a hard bargain and Robin nearly came to blows with him once, but no one could deny that he's a good father, and he's definitely gooey about you. Besides, he's Jefferson's best friend and Jefferson's one of my friends, so he can't be all bad." Marian sat down beside her, looking far too cheerful about the entire situation. "Look on the bright side though - you'll be seeing a lot of him next week with Bae coming to camp, so there'll be plenty of opportunities for sneaking a quick snog in the geography section."
"Marian!"
"Or take him down the erotica aisle and see what happens."
"Marian!"
Marian just winked and took a sip of her tea, looking as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. Belle groaned, but since some more patrons were coming in, she refrained from returning her head to the desk. Marian did have a point, as loathe as she was to admit it. Whilst she was running the camp, there would be plenty of chances to speak to Gold. And perhaps speak to Bae about his father. No, that would be awful. She could hardly ask a ten-year-old to act as matchmaker for her. Marian, on the other hand... She'd already proved herself very observant (although the truth of her matter of fact statement regarding Gold's attraction to her remained to be seen), and as she was taking over the full-time operation of the library during camp week, she would be well-place to note Gold's movements. Good grief, now it was sounding like a major espionage operation. No, best to just put it all out of her mind. If she got the chance to speak to Gold, then so much the better, but she wasn't going to drag his son into her world of ill-fated romance.
"Buck up." Marian nudged Belle with her elbow. "There's no need to look like a wet weekend. I'm sure that something will come of all this."
Knowing that she wasn't going to be able to get away from the subject, Belle decided that doing the re-shelving would be an excellent way of spending her time, and if she happened to start daydreaming about the possibilities that dragging Mr Gold into the erotica aisle might have to offer, then it was no one's business but her own.
X
The first morning of the drama camp dawned bright and sunny, and Bae seemed to be his usual happy self as they ate breakfast and waited for Emma. Mr and Mrs Nolan had an appointment at the antenatal clinic, and they had asked Gold and Bae to see Emma safely to camp. Emma was practically bouncing as she got out of her parents’ car and only just managed to remember to say goodbye to them. Any last-minute nerves that Bae may have had were swept away as Emma chattered on excitedly and, when it was time to leave for the library, pulled him along down the road. They had not reached the library itself when the two children stopped, looking over the fence around the garden in awe at the makeshift stage that had been set up. When they could finally be moved on and arrived in the library garden proper, Gold could see the work that had gone into the temporary structure, a raised platform with a proscenium arch made of cardboard and a working curtain. Leroy and Marco were putting the final touches on, checking the screws and staples to make sure that the structure wouldn’t collapse on any unsuspecting campers.
“Hello Bae, Emma!”
Belle came out of the library with a large jug of squash and a plate of snacks, which she set down on one of the rickety trestle tables.
“Help yourselves. You’re the first to arrive.”
Bae made a beeline towards the cookies, ignoring Gold’s protests that he’d just had breakfast, and Belle came over to Gold. She stood beside him for a while, gazing in proud satisfaction at the stage. This was the perfect excuse to talk to her. It was just the two of them, indeed, there was really no one else that they could talk to, with Leroy and Marco otherwise occupied and Bae and Emma chatting among themselves with great excitement. Bae was showing no signs of trepidation; Emma’s enthusiasm was infectious.
Gold took a deep breath. It was now or never. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. There would be plenty more opportunities to speak to Belle throughout the rest of the week and beyond, but if he kept putting it off then he would never do it. Besides, he knew that he couldn’t guarantee such an excellent chance to segue naturally into conversation.
“It’s very impressive,” he said, nodding towards the stage. “You should be very proud of your achievement.”
“Oh, Marco and Leroy did most of the heavy lifting and building.” Belle flushed. “I just told them how I wanted it to look. They’ve worked wonders with it.”
“Still, I think that this whole venture is an achievement. It’s great that Storybrooke has a local summer camp for the kids this year. Normally they have to go out of town.”
“I just thought that it would be something nice to do to give back to the town.”
“But you’ve already given so much.” Book club meetings, after-school groups, reading to the elderly; it wouldn’t be too much of an exaggeration to say that Storybrooke library was at the heart of the community. Since Belle had opened it up and then taken Marian on as an assistant, the building had truly blossomed into life.
“I’m glad you think so.” Belle gave a little sigh, and Gold noted the pensive expression on her face, wondering what could have caused her such consternation.
“Miss French? Is everything all right?”
Belle nodded. “Yes, yes. I’m fine. I just… I always feel like I ought to be doing more.”
“Sorry?”
“The library cost so much to reopen and restock,” Belle continued. “Everything I do, I do to try and show that the library was a worthwhile investment, and no matter how much I do, I can’t help thinking that it’s never enough, that one day the council will decide that it isn’t worth the expense to keep us open like they’d obviously done before I arrived.”
“I’m sure they won’t do that.” Gold was alarmed at the thought, and at the related thought of Belle leaving town as a result. “Has the mayor said anything along those lines to you?”
“No, the mayor’s always been behind the project, but the mayor isn’t the whole town council. There’s still a lot of old men I need to convince, and they’re not the sort to be swayed by community outreach programmes. The money we receive in late fees isn’t exactly going to line their pockets.”
It saddened Gold to see Belle so pessimistic about the library’s future, especially when she was the heart and soul of it; he had never seen her so upset or melancholy before.
“You know, I know most of the council members,” he said. “I’ve been in Storybrooke long enough to be acquainted with most of the old families who run it behind the scenes.” With the amount of properties that he had accumulated here and there, he was fast becoming one of them. “I could always put in a good word should you ever want me to.”
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“It would be my pleasure, honestly.”
Belle tailed off her protests and looked up at Gold’s face. He hoped that his expression was earnest, for that was certainly how he felt.
“Would you really do that for me?”
“Of course.” He’d do anything for her, but he managed to stop those words before they came out of his mouth.
“Thank you, that would be wonderful.” Gold gave a small squeak of surprise as Belle threw her arms around him in gratitude. When she let go of him, there was a furious blush spreading over her sheepish face, and Gold knew that he was looking exactly the same.
“Sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” Belle mumbled.
“No, no, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Gold didn’t want to let on just how much he had enjoyed Belle hugging him. Thankfully more parents and children were arriving by that point, with Jefferson and Grace being among them. As Belle hastened to welcome the newcomers, Gold said his goodbyes to Bae and Emma and quickly left the garden before anything else happened. Luck was not in his side, however, as Jefferson caught up with him before he could cross the road to the pawn shop.
“I am on the verge of locking you two in a cupboard together to get you to admit your feelings for each other.”
“Hello to you too, Jefferson.”
“Hello. You’ve both got it so bd that you’re practically making heart eyes at each other.”
“I was not…” Gold stopped in his tracks. “Wait. Heart eyes at each other? Do you… Do you think she feels the same way?”
“No. I don’t think it. There’s no need for any thinking at all because at this point it’s blindingly obvious to everyone except you.”
Gold took a while to digest this information, staring across the road towards the front door of the pawn shop without looking at it at all. He thought of the pink tinge rising in Belle’s cheeks as she had let go after hugging him on impulse, and the brightness in her eyes.
Perhaps Jefferson had a point after all.
X
The first day had gone rather well, even if Belle did say so herself. The plays had been read and discussed, and the kids had decided (as Belle had suspected they would) that they wanted to perform the one about knights and dragons. Parts had been cast, with Lily Mallory becoming the dragon and Emma Nolan the leader of the knights. They’d just had time to start building a dragon costume out of cardboard boxes before the parents started turning up to take their children home.
Bae Gold had been designated chief curtain puller and was helping to design the dragon costume. Now that almost everyone else had gone home, Emma had managed to persuade him up onto the stage with her and Lily and a three-way cardboard sword fight was going on, all of them happily oblivious to their parents standing at the other end of the garden watching their shenanigans.
Belle was loath to interrupt their game, but the library had to close up.
“Bae, Emma, Lily,” she called, pointing to their parents once she had their attention. Immediately the spell was broken, with Bae jumping down off the stage as soon as he saw that he had an audience. Belle wondered if this might be another chance to speak to Mr Gold. She had rather embarrassed herself this morning, hugging him out of the blue, but she didn’t think that the gesture had been wholly unappreciated at the time. Maybe there was some truth in Marian’s words. The only trouble she had now was how to broach the topic in polite conversation. If it turned out that everyone had the wrong end of the stick, then it would be even more embarrassing than hugging him. Mr Gold had never been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, reticent more often than not, and she wondered if the same trait had passed down to Bae, manifesting itself in his shyness. Or perhaps the other way around was true, that what people took for standoffish superiority on Gold’s part was in fact just shyness. She didn’t want to push him out of his comfort zone if that was the case, but God, she was desperate to know how he felt.
She realised too late that she was still staring at him as he waved his goodbyes and left the garden with Bae. Belle waved back, and then heard childish giggles behind her. Emma and Lily were whispering together, and Belle realised she’d been caught out yet again. Honestly, if the ten-year-olds could see her attraction then Gold must have been able to see it. Maybe he was just too polite to act on it.
Still, there were another five days of the camp to go, and many months after that. There was plenty of time. And at least the camp was keeping her so busy that she didn’t have time to think about him during the day.
That was the plan, at least.
X
The sun was shining brightly in the sky and there was a cool breeze; they could not have asked for a more perfect Saturday afternoon on which to perform their play. There was a distinct spring in Gold’s step as he locked up the shop and made his way across the road to the library. A few parents were already there, milling about, and he slipped into a seat next to Mary Margaret Nolan, who was now two days overdue and glaring at her belly. Behind the closed curtains up on the stage, Gold could hear the giggles and whispers of the children getting ready. Every so often, a face would appear around the red fabric and peer across the garden, then a hand would wave enthusiastically when they caught sight of friends and family, then another hand would pull them back to the sound of further giggles. Gold wondered if he would see Bae. Emma had already popped out twice.
Whilst waiting for Bae to appear, or not to appear, Gold fell to thinking about the conversations that he’d had with Belle throughout the week. There had been times when he had been collecting Bae when he got the distinct impression that she had been avoiding him, although he hoped he’d made it clear that she was completely forgiven for the hugging incident on Monday. Maybe he had been too forward and scared her off. That would never do. Maybe Jefferson had it wrong and there was no underlying attraction on Belle’s part, and her avoiding him was the best way of letting him down gently – especially if, as Jefferson had said, his own feelings were so painfully obvious to the outside observer.
Whatever was happening, he hoped that he would get the chance to speak to her tonight after the performance. She could not be pinned down at the moment, rushing here and there and everywhere, in and out from behind the temporary stage and up and down the steps into the library. Marian had closed up and come out to help shepherd parents into their seats, and she was watching the proceedings with an air of calm amusement, occasionally grabbing Belle in the midst of her dashing about and reminding her to breathe and drink water.
Gold pulled his thoughts back to the camp as he thought he caught a glimpse of Bae crossing the stage in the gap where the curtains did not quite meet as a result of so many people peering between them to wave at their parents. He had been surprised at how much Bae had enjoyed himself, coming home every night with tales of all the things that had happened and all of the things that he had been involved in making. He’d come out of his shell so much and Gold was so happy for him. The last thing that he wanted was to Bae to have regretted his decision, especially when Gold had been the one to encourage him to take a step outside of his comfort zone.
The last couple of nights, Bae had not been quite so chatty, although Gold could tell that it was not out of any sadness or awkwardness, but out of the desire to keep a secret. Bae had been wearing a mischievous little smile for the entire time, and Gold wondered what kind of surprises would be in store.
At length, the hubbub of noise behind the curtain quietened down, and Belle stepped out onto the stage to get the audience’s attention and introduce the players. She looked a true vision of summer beauty in a bright yellow sundress, and Gold’s heart momentarily leapt to his mouth. No, his feelings for her could not be denied at all.
“Good afternoon everyone and thank you so much for the brilliant turnout. Still, you didn’t come here to see me, so without further ado, I present Storybrooke Library Summer Camp’s production of The Grumpy Dragon!”
Belle jumped lightly off the stage as the curtains were pulled with great flourish, and Gold applauded heartily at what he knew was Bae’s part in the play.
Although, thanks to Bae and Emma’s constant talking about it, he now knew the plot of the play by heart and could probably recite most of the characters’ lines into the bargain, it was still a roaring success in all senses of the words.
Everyone gasped and laughed in all the right places, and if there were any fluffed lines or other mishaps on the stage, then Gold didn't notice them. Even though he never saw Bae for the length of the production, he knew that his son was there in the background, and once the final bows had been taken, he was applauding so hard his hands would likely never be the same again.
The curtains swished open a final time and Belle stood up from her place in the front row, encouraging all the children who had not had starring roles to come out and take a bow as well. Bae was there among them, grinning like the Cheshire Cat and showing no signs of unease at being centre stage. They received their applause in their turn, and then Bae rushed off the stage again. Gold couldn't say he blamed him.
His eyes almost popped out of his head when he returned with a large bouquet of flowers that Gold had noticed Marian taking care of to one side of the stage, and the vociferous clapping and cheering died down as it became clear that Bae had something to say.
It took him a little while to start his speech, but once he had found his father in the audience and locked eyes with him, Gold gave an encouraging nod. Bae took a deep breath.
"We just want to say a big thank you to Miss French for making it all possible. These are for you." He reached down off the stage and handed the flowers to Belle, who had gone very pink.
"Thank you, Bae. Thank you everyone. This week's been a joy. I really don't think that there's anything else to say except to enjoy the party!"
The children took a final bow, and then went to find their parents. In Bae's case, he would be finding a very stunned parent indeed.
X
Belle felt like she was walking on air as she helped Bae off the stage and the two of them made their way over to Mr Gold. The production had been a huge success. She’d had no doubts that it would be, and when the audience was made up of loving parents all seeing their children as the star of the show, no matter how big or small their part, then huge applause was guaranteed. No, this was even better than expected. Truly nothing had gone wrong that could have marred the day or ended the week’s camp activities on a sour note.
True, she had been avoiding Gold a little during the last few days, still somewhat mortified about her forwardness in hugging him, but mostly because she always ended up becoming so tongue-tied and distracted around him that it was affecting her concentration, and she really hadn’t wanted a repeat of Monday evening when Lily and Emma had sussed her out.
Now though, it was the end of the week, and the children were all far too busy with their friends and parents celebrating their success and tucking into the barbecue that Leroy and Marco had been preparing throughout the performance. Now it was time to make a move.
Gold was beaming with pride from ear to ear as they approached him, and Belle didn’t think that she had ever seen so much happiness on his face before. She had exchanged the odd little shy smile with him in the past, and he always smiled more readily when Bae was around, but this was something entirely different.
“That’s not my son,” he said, grinning down at Bae. “My son would never have gone up on stage and made a speech like that.”
Bae’s grin could have matched Gold’s for luminosity.
“No, it’s really me.” He threw his arms around his father and Gold picked him up, before putting him down again quickly with a strained huff.
“You’re getting far too heavy for that.” He was still smiling though. “Oh Bae, I’m so proud of you.”
Belle just watched father and son from the side lines for a while, not for the world wanting to interrupt their triumphant moment. She had been as surprised as Gold had been when Bae had made his little speech, but she’d always known that he had it in him – just as Gold did, probably. Over the last six days Bae’s confidence had come on in leaps and bounds, and she was so proud to have been able to help this blossoming come about.
At length, Bae broke away from Gold, running off to go and find his friends and continuing playing in the garden, and Gold looked over at Belle.
“Thank you so much,” he said. “I really don’t know… I’m astonished. I’ve been trying to bring Bae out of his shell for years, but I just never knew how to go about it without discomfiting him.”
There was so much emotion in his words, and Belle couldn’t think why so many people saw him as a beast. If they could hear him in this moment, his voice low and almost cracking with overwhelming pride, they would certainly have a different opinion. Gold felt just as deeply as the rest of them, but his feelings were concentrated towards Bae.
And perhaps, just perhaps, towards herself.
“It’s been my pleasure,” Belle said. “Honestly. Bae’s a wonderful kid. And you know,” she added, bolstering her courage and working on the principle that she was only going to live once and might as well make the most of it, “his father’s not bad either.”
Gold blinked in surprise, staring at her, but there was something more than just shock registering in his face. There was also something very akin to hope.
“I… I’m flattered that you think so, Miss French.”
“Please, call me Belle. And I do think so. In fact, I’d very much like to get to know him better.”
“Who, Bae?” Belle recognised the attempt at diversionary humour for what it was, and she shook her head.
“No, Mr Gold. You.” She paused, letting the information properly sink in. If there had been doubts in her mind as to whether her interest was returned before, then they were well and truly squashed now. She held out a hand, an invitation or a peace offering or whatever he wanted to make of it, and after almost a full minute of looking at her fingers as if they were a poisonous snake, he took her hand and squeezed.
“If we’re on first name terms, then you can call me Cameron.”
“Very well, Cameron. Would you like to join me for lunch tomorrow so that I can get to know you better?”
He nodded eagerly. “I’d like that very much, Miss Fr-Belle.”
Their hands were still linked, and Belle looked up at the fronds of honeysuckle drooping softly from the tree above them. A random thought caught her, and she giggled.
“What?” Cameron asked.
“Nothing. I was just wondering what would happen if it was Christmastime rather than summer and if all this honeysuckle was mistletoe.”
“Ah.” Cameron had gone rather red in the face at the thought. Belle just laughed again, knowing that when the winter did come, there would be plenty of mistletoe to catch him under if this was going to be the reaction. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his flushed cheek, lingering for longer than was perhaps strictly appropriate. As she broke away, she caught sight of Emma and Lily watching them with eyes agog. The news of her and Cameron’s fledgling relationship would be all over the town before breakfast now, but Belle found that she really didn’t mind.
The look of wonder on his face was completely worth it, and Belle knew that she was wearing a similar expression herself.
All in all, this had been an extremely successful summer camp.
X
(As things turned out, though, they were not the most eventful thing to occur on the final day of the camp, as three minutes later Mary Margaret Nolan’s water broke.
Although naturally sorry for her ordeal, Gold and Belle couldn’t help but be grateful for her impeccable timing.)
Summary: Belle is the one to be sucked into Zelena’s time portal with Emma, and they find themselves in a very different time to the one they had anticipated, arriving to see the confrontation between Hook and a pre-Dark One Rumpelstiltskin. They manage to return to the future, but with some unintentional stowaways. With Rumpelstiltskin removed from his own timeline, the universe throws a fit, and it’s a race against time to set things straight.
Rated: T for now, but it will go up in later chapters.
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[One] [Two] [AO3]
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Out of Time
Three
Although it was horrible to watch the scene playing out on the Jolly Roger’s deck, Belle couldn’t help but notice Emma’s reaction to the whole thing, and although she knew her attention ought to have been focussed on Rumpel and his plight, she couldn’t help feeling somewhat vindicated in her opinion of Hook now that Emma was really witnessing his actions first hand.
Belle had never thought that Emma had taken her objections to the man seriously; for all that she may have forgiven and forgotten his misdeeds towards her, she had seemed very keen for everyone else to do the same. Now she was receiving an active reminder of his villainy, and she was quietly seething with fury. Eventually she stopped chuntering under her breath and sighed.
“I should have known better than to take him at face value when he always claimed to be the better man in this centuries-old feud,” she grumbled.
“Well, Rumpel’s not entirely blameless himself, but his antagonism comes a few more years down the line,” Belle said. “I think that this is where it all began.”
“Yeah. Why do we have to watch this? Is this the universe trying to tell us something?”
“I have no idea.” Belle’s hands flew to her mouth as Rumpel was knocked to the ground, and Emma had to grab the back of her cloak to prevent her from darting out from their hiding place and going straight to his side.
“We’re trying not to change anything, remember? I know it’s hard to watch, but we can’t intervene.”
Belle sagged back down against Emma with a sigh. “I wish that we could. Couldn’t we just make sure that he’s ok?”
“Belle, he can’t meet you now. He won’t meet you for another three centuries.”
“He won’t know it’s me. Not if I don’t tell him my name. If he recognises me in the future, then he’ll just put it down to me being a distant relative. He’s hardly going to think I’m the same person.”
She didn’t know why she was so desperate to go and speak to him. She knew more than anyone the consequences of meddling with magic beyond her understanding; Rumpel had warned her about it enough during her time in the Dark Castle. All the same, she couldn’t help but think that perhaps they had ended up in this time frame for a reason, and that Rumpel would be the key to getting them back home, even if he was not the Dark One at this point in time.
“We’re supposed to be finding a magician to get them to help us back to the future,” Emma said, but even as she spoke, Belle could see her resolve wavering, human nature winning out. “Earlier you said that you thought you had a theory for how we could get home. How badly do we need someone with magic for that?”
Belle shook her head. “Not very badly. It was only to confirm if my reasoning was correct.”
“What’s the reasoning?”
“We’ll be taken back of our own accord soon enough. I think the portal will re-open. Meddling with time is such a hugely magically illegal thing that has very far-reaching consequences. Magic with this much power always has fail-safes built in. Even the Dark Curse that brought us all to Storybrooke in the first place had fail-safes. Rumpel built in security measures. Zelena might have been unhinged, but she knew what she was doing when it came to the handling of such powerful magic. She would want to make sure that whatever she did in the past didn’t send things too far the other way and make her worse off than before when she returned to the future. I think that maybe the portal has only a temporary displacement effect, taking you back in time for just long enough to alter what you need to and then return.”
Emma pondered Belle’s reasoning for a long time. “That implies that in order to get back, we’re going to have to change something.”
Belle hadn’t thought about it like that, but the more she ruminated, the more the logic seemed to make horrible sense.
“Yes. I think we are. Hopefully something small that won’t cause too much of a lasting impact.”
Two of Hook’s crew were ‘assisting’ Rumpel back down the gangplank onto the docks, and Belle and Emma looked over at him.
“Maybe talking to him isn’t such a bad idea after all.”
Rumpelstiltskin began to hobble away from the Jolly Roger, not looking back in their direction, but before Belle and Emma could plan any further, one of pirates came over and moved one of the crates that they were hiding behind. He raised an eyebrow, and Emma made the decision for them, giving a definitive ‘nope’ and grabbing Belle, legging it away from the crates and the docks and following in the direction that Rumpel had gone.
They began to trail after him at a safe distance, but given his pace in comparison to their own, they soon caught him up. Emma nudged Belle.
“Go on. Go and talk to him.”
“I’ve got no idea what to say.”
“Oh, come on, there must be something, you’re engaged to him!”
“Not him. This Rumpel I’ve never known.”
“Well, either way, you’re better at this than I am. You’re nice. You’re good with people. I’m just… me.”
Belle conceded that point; Emma was an effective sheriff and a good advocate whenever there was a battle to be fought, but tact and sympathy were definitely areas where Belle scored higher. She took a deep breath and quickened her step to bring her up alongside Rumpel, Emma still following along behind them by a couple of paces. She touched his arm lightly, making him startle and look around warily at her.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” It was the eyes that got her, looking into the same deep brown eyes that she had looked into so many times in Storybrooke but finding no hint of recognition there. Rumpel had known her even when she had not known herself, and now she was a stranger to him, just a spectre from his future. Her tongue was lost for a moment. Seeing him so nervous and worn down by life in general when she had only ever known him cool and confident – except around her, of course – wasn’t something that she could really have prepared herself for. It had been different when she had been watching from a distance. Now she was close up. Far too close for comfort.
“I just wanted to see if you were all right,” she finished lamely, despite knowing full well that he was very far from all right and that any halfway observant person would be able to see that.
“I’ll be fine, thank you.” There were tears in his eyes, but his voice was still guarded, and it broke Belle’s heart to know that he had been so alone in the world as to be wary of the kindness of strangers.
“I saw what happened on the ship,” she said. Rumpel turned his face away, embarrassed. “I think you were very brave.”
“Hardly. I failed to save my wife. I knew I never had a chance. What was I thinking?”
It was incredibly tempting to tell him that Milah was safe and well and had orchestrated this entire plot herself, but Belle knew that would be altering far too much and could have terrible consequences down the line.
“You did it anyway, though,” she said instead. “Even though the odds weren’t in your favour, you still went to try. I’d say that was incredibly courageous.”
He looked back at her, searching her face for mockery, and on finding none, he gave her the briefest of weak smiles.
“Please, just let me and my friend see you safely home. You took quite a fall there and I want to make sure that you’re all right.”
Rumpel didn’t say anything, but he did not protest as Belle continued to walk alongside him, and Emma came up to take the other flank. They must have looked an odd sight to the other locals, but Belle was past the point of caring. Her focus now was on Rumpel, and then on getting home. Hopefully this brief interaction would be enough to take them back to Storybrooke, and if she had succeeded in bringing some measure of comfort to Rumpel along the way, then even better.
There was no further conversation until they were out of the port town and heading back up towards the small villages that Belle and Emma had already passed through earlier in the day.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Rumpel said eventually as they neared the house with glaring gaps on the line where they had stolen the cloaks. For a terrible moment, Belle wondered if that was in fact Rumpel’s house, but they walked on past it. She and Emma looked at each other.
“No, we’re not,” Emma said quickly. “We’re from… somewhere very far away.”
“Very far away,” Belle agreed.
“Really? Your accent’s Marchlands.”
“How interesting.” Belle was floundering more with every word, and she decided that changing the subject was the best tactic. “Where do you live?”
Rumpel gestured towards a small house at the end of the lane. The sun was beginning to go down, and Belle could see a little face with tousled dark hair watching at the window. Her heart leapt to her mouth. This was Bae, just a few years old and with his whole life ahead of him. Unbidden, the tears came into her eyes, and she wiped them on the edge of her cloak. Rumpel looked over at her, concerned.
“Are you all right?” How he could be so kind and attentive considering everything that he had been through himself already that day, Belle didn’t know. She nodded quickly.
“I’ll be fine.” It was embarrassing how choked her voice was. She felt a hand come and rub her shoulder awkwardly and looked up to see Emma looking at her with a similarly tearful expression. They could hardly tell Rumpel the real reason for their emotional state, but seeing Bae had brought back so many memories, and knowing what would happen in his future and being unable to prevent it was heartbreaking in so many ways.
“Please, do come in.” Rumpel opened the door for them and stepped aside to let them enter.
“We wouldn’t want to impose,” Belle said. “I mean, this is obviously going to be a difficult time for you.”
“I’d like to repay your kindness, if I can,” Rumpel said. “For a man like me, friendly words are sometimes hard to come by. Maybe some tea before you go on your way again.”
“Tea would be nice.” Belle hoped that he couldn’t hear her stomach gurgling beneath the folds of her cloak. She had no idea how long it had been since she’d last eaten, but they’d definitely missed the potluck at Granny’s and now she was feeling it.
She and Emma stepped into the small cottage and looked over at Bae as he came to meet his father at the door.
“Papa?” he whispered, half-hiding behind the spinning wheel. “Who are they?”
“These ladies just wanted to make sure your papa got home safely,” Rumpel said, crouching down to Bae’s level to ruffle his hair. “And he did.”
Bae was still looking at them through frightened eyes. “Where’s Mama?”
Rumpel gave a shaky sigh, scrubbing his hands over his face, and he took Bae’s hand, leading him to the other end of the room and sitting him down in front of the fireplace. Belle and Emma gave them some space, but Belle could still make out the words ‘Mama’s not coming back’, and when she glanced over her shoulder, Bae was hugging his father tightly.
She had not anticipated just how harrowing this experience was going to be. It had been bad enough watching the confrontation happen in real time, but now she was viewing the fallout from it. Knowing what she did about what would happen years down the line, at the separation between father and son and all the animosity that would simmer for centuries, she felt slightly nauseous. Looking at Bae and Rumpel now, though, she could quite see why Rumpel would be prepared to tear a world apart to try and get back to him. Theirs was a tight, fierce, nigh-unbreakable bond.
After a while, Rumpel had got Bae into bed, and he came back over to Belle and Emma, setting about getting the kettle and the tea leaves. Belle placed her hands gently over his shaking ones.
“Please, let me,” she said. “After the day you’ve had, the least I can do is make some tea.” She smiled at the memory of her time in the Dark Castle, her first evening there when she had chipped her cup. It seemed that she and Rumpel were destined always to be meeting over tea. “I have a lot of experience in making tea.”
Emma raised an eyebrow but said nothing, and Rumpel just gave her a grateful smile.
Belle busied herself with the tea things, wishing that she knew what to say to make the situation better without irreparably changing the future.
Anonymous prompted: “Rumbelle Enchanted! Belle was set to marry Gaston, however as it would happen Belle is pushed down a portal, leading to the real world where she meets Mr Gold and Bae.”
=====
New, And A Bit Alarming
Belle looked out of the window of the large castle of which, come tomorrow, she would be lady and mistress, and sighed. It was not that she did not want to get married to Sir Gaston, after all, he was the most eligible bachelor in the entirety of the kingdom and his estate was the largest for miles around, but she couldn't help thinking that she was missing out on... something. She wasn't sure what. There must be something more out there, beyond the wild woods, and Belle had always longed to see it. After tomorrow, though, she would never have that chance again. She would no longer be free to come and go as she pleased; she would have duties to perform as the lady of the castle. Namely, ensuring that the servants were not pilfering the silverware and, more importantly (since the servants of the castle were well-treated and unlikely to pilfer the silverware), bearing several children to carry on Gaston's family line. Belle shuddered at the thought. She was not against children, but surely there was more to the life of a noblewoman than a constant cycle of pregnancy and childbirth. She thought of her own mother, who was not noble by any stretch of the imagination. She had been a fun-loving, courageous woman, and Belle's father had adored her sense of adventure, encouraging her every step of the way. Gaston, however... Well, Gaston had taken one look at her collection of books and promptly announced that they would have to stay at her father's house, there was no room for them in the castle and it wasn't right for women to start getting all kinds of ideas in their heads.
When Belle, who sometimes doubted whether Gaston had ever had an original thought in his lifetime, had politely enquired as to how she would be expected to spend her time if she did not have her books for entertainment, her fiancé had laughed and replied in complete sincerity "you won't need entertainment, my dearest, you'll have me".
Belle sighed again. Tonight was her final night of freedom and she wanted to do something wonderful to mark the occasion, something to celebrate the life that she had led so far before she had to leave it behind forever. She would take a ride, she decided, off beyond the wild woods, just so that she could tell her children that she had seen that world before she became their mother. She left the windowseat and crept through the castle to avoid Gaston. No doubt if he saw her then he would draw her into some lengthy discussion of either the wedding plans or the brace of pheasants that he had killed earlier in the day, and by the time she managed to get away then the already fading light would have gone for good and it would be too late.
Philippe was still standing in his usual place in the stable - Belle had put her foot down and insisted that her faithful steed remain with her despite Gaston's scoffing that the old carthorse was hardly the mount for a noblewoman and his remarks that he could be put to better use as wallpaper adhesive - and Belle clambered onto his back, not bothering with a saddle in her haste to get away and feel the wind in her hair. Philippe seemed to understand and set off in the direction of the wild woods. It was a glorious ride, and Belle closed her eyes to better appreciate the breeze on her face and the last of the evening sunlight warming her skin, and she felt Philippe slow to a walk. When she opened her eyes again, they had reached the edge of the wild woods, and the horse would go no further.
"All right, Philippe, we'll turn back in a moment," she said. "I just want to have a little closer look, to see what's so wild about these woods."
Philippe snorted and tried to pull away, but Belle just slipped off his back and patted his flank.
"It won't take a minute, I promise," she said.
She tied Philippe's reins to the nearest tree branch and tiptoed into the forest, peering around her to get her bearings. Although the golden sunset was still bright, within the woods under the thick tree canopy, the light was dim and murky; the place full of low-lying mist. Belle shivered, she could quite see why people avoided this place. Still, do the brave thing and bravery would follow, Belle reasoned, and she ventured a little further into the woods. She couldn’t hear anything, just her own footsteps, and she thought that perhaps the silence was more unnerving than any strange sounds coming from unseen assailants might be. For a moment, she figured that the tales of strange creatures in these woods were all a myth, and that the real fear came from the darkness and loneliness, with active imaginations filling in all the gaps with dangerous beasts, ghosts and ghouls. Behind her, she heard Philippe whinnying nervously, and she knew that it was time to turn back. As she did, however, something caught her eye; a faint glow could be seen through the trees at ground level, an eerie blue light that illuminated tendrils of mist. Intrigued, Belle stepped a little closer. Although the light was unnerving, it did not send the shame shiver of fear down her spine that the rest of the forest did. Indeed, it was almost like she was drawn to it.
Curiosity killed the cat, a snide voice that sounded like one of her father’s advisor’s hissed in her ear as she came closer and closer to the light.
“But satisfaction brought it back,” she murmured aloud in response, creeping ever closer to the light. It was coming from a swirling pool in a clearing in the trees, the water moving without any sign of a breeze, its soft glow casting strange shapes over the surrounding tree trunks. Belle had never seen anything like it before, and she looked down at the water’s surface, bending down and reaching out to touch it. Before she could make contact though, she heard a rustling in the trees, and she shot back to her feet, looking around for the source of the noise. It came again, and then, all of a sudden, she heard the frantic beating of hooves and Philippe’s distressed mewling. He had broken his reins free and was heading straight towards her, spooked by something in the woods.
“Philippe, it’s all right, boy, it’s all right!” Belle held up her hands as the horse careered towards her and he reared on facing his mistress, kicking out with his front legs in his wide-eyed fear of whatever was chasing him. Belle darted back to avoid his flailing hooves, and she suddenly felt nothing supporting her weight. She had tripped over the edge of the mysterious pool, and her wildly windmilling arms could not stop her from falling down into the water.
Except, Belle realised as she fell, there was no water. She did not feel the cold depths closing over her head and dragging her down, and as she kept falling, she realised that for all she was panicking, she could still breathe. She had fallen past the source of the light into complete darkness, tumbling head over heels into the gloom with no bearing on how far she had fallen or how close to the bottom she might be. The fact she had fallen into a pond that was really not a pond worried her less than the possible broken bones she might suffer when she finally reached whatever was at the bottom. If there even was a bottom. Might she just be falling forever? A small, cynical voice in the back of her mind thought that falling forever through magical blackness might just be better than being married to Gaston next day. She wondered how long she had been falling for, and whether a search party had been sent forth to find her yet. Right at this very moment, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be found. Rescued, yes, because this darkness was seemingly interminable and there was a lot more that she wanted to do with her life. But being found by Gaston would engender conversations about propriety and the diligent duties of a lady of the castle that would result in her ever-decreasing freedoms being curtailed even further.
Belle was so caught up in her own thoughts that the soft thud of her reaching the bottom of wherever it was caught her entirely by surprise, and she took a few moments to come back to herself. The floor was hard and cold, and under her hands it felt metallic. There were a few holes in the ground, just about the size of her fingers, but they were enough to let light through. Cautiously, Belle peered through one of the holes.
The world was upside down.
She jerked back with a start, then shook herself and looked again. Was it possible that she’d fallen all the way through the world and come out on the other side? She shrugged, it was one explanation for it. She wasn’t quite sure which country she’d ended up in, but hopefully they’d be able to help her out.
Carefully, Belle felt around the metal circle that she had landed on, and it moved an inch or so. She pushed it up and away, and tentatively poked her head through the hole.
Wherever she was, she was definitely not in the Marchlands any more. She was in a town with strange squat buildings and no castles in sight. Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing, considering Gaston.
She pulled herself up through the hole and looked around as she brushed herself off. It was a quiet place; there didn’t seem to be anyone about. It was dark, the same kind of twilight that she had left the Marchlands in, but here there were great lanterns on poles set into the street every few yards. Looking around, she saw that most of the buildings were in darkness apart from one at the end of the street, which was illuminated in red and green that read Granny’s Diner: Open.
Whilst Belle had no idea what a diner was, she knew that grandmothers were generally people who could be trusted, and so she decided to make her way towards the place. After a few steps she stopped. She’d always been told that a red lantern outside a place showed that it was a house of ill repute and to be avoided by all gentle-born ladies. No-one had ever mentioned green lanterns before.
“Are you a princess?”
Belle spun around to find a young boy looking up at her wide-eyed.
“I saw you come out of the ground,” he said, pointed eagerly over to the hole that she had come up through. “Are you a princess from Australia?”
“I, erm, I don’t know where that is,” Belle said. “I’m not a princess. I’m a Lady. Lady Belle of the Marchlands. Perhaps you know where that is?”
The little boy frowned, thinking hard for a while, then shook his head solemnly.
“Bae!”
The little boy looked sheepish on hearing the other voice. “Oops,” he mumbled.
“Bae, you can’t just run off like that, how many times have I told you? I do beg your pardon, madam, he’s just curious.”
The man who had come up to immediately gave Belle the impression of a knight who had been wounded in a great battle. There was something about his bearing and the set of his features that gave him a sense of nobility, and the limp and walking stick that he carried showed that he had endured some hardships. He grabbed his son’s hand and tried to steer him back down the street away from Belle.
“But Papa, she came out of the ground! I saw her! Look!” The boy pointed over to the hole again, and the knight looked up at Belle then back to Bae.
“Bae, the only people who come up out of drain covers are maintenance workers, and I really don’t think that this lady is one of those. Now come on, we have to go home now. It’s almost your bedtime.”
“But I saw her!” Bae protested.
“Bae…”
“I, erm, I did come out of the drain cover,” Belle interjected. She didn’t want the poor child to be thought mad for having seen something that apparently in this world couldn’t have been real. “Good Sir Knight, I fell into a pond in the Marchlands and I ended up below that drain cover.”
The man just blinked.
“Did you just call me a knight?” he asked.
“Erm, yes, you do look like one. It was intended as a compliment, the knights of the Marchlands are well revered for their chivalry and bravery. Unless of course, you’re a lord of this land, in which case I do apologise for the slight, your lordship.” She was babbling, but having found herself in a place where she had no idea what the social norms were, Belle thought that she could be allowed that.
The man snorted. “Well, I daresay that there are some in the town who would tell you I’m the lord of it, but they don’t mean that as a compliment. I’m just a man. Now, Bae, we have to get going. Madam, it was nice meeting you.”
“But Papa!” Bae said. “If she’s just come here from another land then she needs a place to stay!”
The man sighed, took a deep breath, and turned back towards Belle. “Madam, if you need a place to stay then the bed and breakfast is first on your left after the diner. I wish you a good night.”
“But Papa!” Bae protested again. “She won’t have any of our money! Can’t she come and stay with us?”
“Bae, we can’t just take in a… very confused young woman we’ve never met!”
“But we have met! We’re meeting right now!”
“I’m Lady Belle of the Marchlands,” Belle put in helpfully.
“I’m dreaming,” the man muttered.
“Please, Papa!”
“All right. Madam, if you’d care to accompany us, we’ll see what we can sort out.”
“Yes!” Bae jumped up and down excitedly. “We’ve got a princess coming to stay!”
“She’s not staying!” Bae’s father exclaimed, at the same time as Belle said “I’m not a princess.”
Bae looked from his father to Belle and gave a sage nod.
“You’ll stay,” he said wisely.
“Baden Gold, you won’t be getting any ice cream for a week if you keep this up.” He turned to Belle and, hooking his walking cane into the crook of his elbow, held out his hand. “Rum Gold. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Belle.”
“Likewise.”
“Come on, before it gets too late.” Gold readjusted his grip on his cane and strode off down the street, Bae chattering along happily beside him and Belle looking around her in wonder at the place she had found herself in.
“Excuse me, Mr Gold, may I ask what is the name of this land?”
Gold paused and Belle saw the first hint of a smile curl at the corner of his mouth.
“Welcome to Storybrooke, Lady Belle.”
Storybrooke. Belle gave a satisfied nod. Yes, she thought that she was going to like it here in Storybrooke.
