Bookish ask #7- Have you ever despised something you have read? (for me, it was "Great Expectations")
Oh, my word, is there ever! I mean, Great Expectations is up there for me too, (a lot of Dickens actually), but I think the one that sticks out the most for my is Time’s Arrow by Martin Amis. I had to read this as part of my Language Arts major for my teaching degree. The chronology of the book is told BACKWARDS, including reverse dialogue, reverse narrative, and reverse explanation. and as if that weren’t bad enough, the main character of the story is a Holocaust doctor from Auschwitz. A really disturbing and uncomfortable book to read - which I get was the point of writing it that way but... urgh!
So @xiolaperry wrote a fic called The Piano in which Gaston is a very bad man. She subsequently set out the call for prompts of how Gaston could die, which she has assembled into a fic called Four Ways Gaston Could Have Died (And One Way He Actually Did). One of those prompts, from @roxymorondraws was that he come upon my Spider-Rumple from Nephila. Xiolaperry asked me if I wanted to write that chapter and I thought it would be fun. So I’m being a bit of a “guest author” on her fic. Enjoy!
Read on AO3
The jungle is different from the cave. It is wet and warm. Still dark, under the trees. He builds his webs in shafts of light. Prey comes out of the darkness. Prey does not see gold threads in gold sunlight.
He eats well in the jungle.
****
He had to leave the cave. It was too large, too empty. It was too quiet, without the sound of his young scurrying around.
He let his young go. When the strong winds came. When his young wanted to see what was outside the cave. When he was too afraid to go with him. His young went outside to build a web. But then the winds came.
And he was in the air.
And he was in the sky.
The small web billowed out around him.
And he was gone.
He let his young go. His young, who was so small and weak, who was so smart and brave. He could not kill his prey with a bite, but he could set traps and keep prey alive so it would stay fresh. He talked easily, like his mother.
He called him Papa.
When his young was gone, nothing was the same. Prey didn’t taste good anymore. There was no joy in spinning webs. The cave--his cave--was strange and bad. It was too empty. Too full of memories.
So he left.
He did on purpose what his young had done by accident. On a windy day, he went outside of the cave. He made a web, but didn’t attach it to anything. The woven gold hung loose in his arms.
Then he tossed the web up. And the wind caught it. And he was in the air. And he was in the sky.
He didn’t know where he would go. It didn’t matter. Perhaps he would find his young. Perhaps he would float in the air forever. Perhaps he would fall into the dark water below him and be eaten by something even bigger and more fearsome than himself.
By the time he started falling, there was green land in the midst of the dark water. Mountains and jungles and human towns. He landed on top of the trees. Quickly, he scuttled down into the darkness.
The darkness was familiar. The shadows, the hiding places. There was much to eat here. Birds in the air, birds that walked on the ground. Lizards and bats and large insects. He ate, and he lived, and he made a new home.
****
He wakes to the sound of stomping boots.
Two types of humans come through the jungle--quiet humans, and loud humans. The quiet humans are dark and careful. They blend in with the jungle as much as he does. They step softly and do not disturb the prey. He lets them pass.
But the loud humans are a nuisance. They are white as grubs and cover their bodies with bright false skin. They come through in noisy boxes pulled by large animals. Or they march through his jungle like it is theirs. They hack and slash at the plants with long metal arms. They cut down everything in their way. They talk the same language as his young, as his mother. But they are all so loud! They scatter the prey and they annoy him.
This human is the most disruptive of the loud humans. He has come through before. A big hulking male. He shouts instead of talks. He barks like a dog and brays like a donkey.
He pushes his way through the jungle. He acts like it is the jungles’ fault that he has to walk through it. The humans have made a road around the jungle, but this brute is avoiding the main way. None of the other humans want to talk to him.
None of the other humans will miss him when he’s gone.
The webs are built. The traps are set. He waits, hidden in the treetops. There’s nothing to force this human into the path that will end in his death. Nothing but his own stupidity and pride.
If he took the road. If he looked at where he was going. If he wasn’t such a noisy fool who thought he knew everything. Then this human would walk out of the jungle unharmed.
Instead, he plows through the undergrowth. He rushes from the darkness to the light and he does not see the golden web.
It tangles in his face and he wipes it away, stumbling blindly into another web, another shaft of light.
The human stops altogether, disgusted by the silk that now covers him back and front. He heaves his metal stick into the trunk of a tree and tries to clean himself up.
That is the last mistake he ever makes.
Faster than the human can comprehend, he casts down another web from the treetops. It falls like a net over the human. Stunned, the human raises his hands. But he cannot escape.
“What the hell?” he shouts.
The human flails his meaty arms and that is when the attack comes.
He drops down from the treetops. He spins his thread around one of the human’s arms. The human reaches with his other arm, reaches for the metal stick that can cut through the trees and brush. The stick could cut through the web. It could even cut through his legs and into his shell. That stick could be the death of him.
But the human can’t reach it.
He tries to pull away from the web. He tries to walk, but his legs are bound. Silly human even tries to hop but he falls to the ground. He can’t get up. He’ll never get up again.
The human fights and struggles against the web. He makes useless noises. He grunts and screams in the way of every creature that knows death is coming for them.
The human wriggles in the dirt like a worm.
His front legs lift him up, bring him close.
The human’s mouth is silent. Too afraid to scream anymore. His pale eyes are wide with terror. The eyes reflect what the human sees: A monster, dark and terrible. Two eyes meet eight and the human lets out a whimper. Now his eyes reflect the mouth.
The smile.
The fangs.
He bites the human in the neck. He gulps the first rush of blood as it gushes down his throat. The human roars with the pain and he feels the vibrations as he drinks.
Once the blood has ebbed, he lets loose his venom into the human’s body. It works slowly. The human keeps trying to fight. But the cocoon is wrapped tight around him. He cannot move. Soon, he cannot even keep his two eyes open.
He spins the human into a neat, golden pouch and takes him back up to his web. The venom will keep working its way through the human’s blood. It will turn all his flesh and organs into liquid. He can drink it slowly over many days. Savor it. How long will the human stay alive in his cocoon? Will he know that he is being devoured, drop by drop? Can he even imagine what kind of creature will suck the very marrow from his bones?
Two days had passed since Belle’s discovery, via Dopey the kino, of Rush’s feelings for her, and she still didn’t know what she ought to do with the information.
Logic was telling her that she ought to do nothing. After all, the moment she had witnessed had been an extremely private one, and if circumstances hadn’t conspired and if she hadn’t been such a damn voyeur, she would never have found out in the first place. Rush had no idea that she knew, and since his manner to her had not changed at all, it was likely that he had no intention of telling her any time soon.
All the same, the slightly less logical part of her brain was telling her that she ought to act on this information. Rush obviously liked her, or at least found her attractive, enough to think about her whilst masturbating. And as for Belle herself, well, she’d be lying if she said she’d never thought about him in the dead of night with her hands busy between her legs.
She’d always tried to push those thoughts back, knowing that he’d lost his wife only a couple of years ago. Now, though, she had been emboldened. Perhaps it was time to start acting on those feelings.
They continued to work together through their insomnia, coding for hours at a time in companionable silence, occasionally bringing each other rations or hiding a smile when the other one yawned. Belle just wondered when the right time to make her move might be, and how she should approach it: by the way, I think you’re hot, I’m horny on main because I left my vibrator on Icarus, and I know you think about me when you wank – wanna have sex?
She was lying in her bed in her quarters, staring up at the ceiling and occasionally checking the ventilation shaft for tell-tale signs of lost kinos, but so far she was alone. Sleep was about as forthcoming as it had ever been since they had first arrived on Destiny, and she was feeling a mounting frustration between her thighs. She was sure that Rush had caused it, and he could be the one to bring her some much-needed relief.
Galvanised into action, although still no closer to actually having a plan, Belle leapt out of bed and pulled her jeans on, making the executive decision to remain braless under her camisole. She was going to find Rush. Whatever came of that meeting, well, they would work that out later, but right now she knew that he was even less likely to be asleep than she was.
She searched for him in all his usual haunts, but the man was nowhere to be found. He must be in his quarters, and Belle faltered for a moment. Maybe he really was asleep, and if so, she couldn’t disturb him, not when he needed rest so badly.
Still, the last time he’d been in his quarters whilst Belle had been wandering Destiny’s corridors, he had definitely not been asleep. She decided to take her chances, and she tapped lightly on his door. If he was asleep, he likely wouldn’t hear it and wouldn’t respond, and then she could slink back to her own quarters and find release on her own fingers.
“Who is it?” The answer was almost immediate, and he did not sound at all sleepy.
“Belle. I… I couldn’t sleep, and I know that you can’t often sleep, and I wondered if we could not-sleep together.” She cringed at her word choice.
Rush’s door opened, and for a long time, Belle could only stand and stare at him. Tousled and dishevelled from tossing and turning, the sheet wrapped around his waist… She took him in from head to toe and back again, and she realised that there was nothing she wanted more than to throw him bodily back onto his bed, rip that sheet off his skinny hips and ride him till her brain melted.
It took a moment to realise that Rush was looking at her in the same way. The cool air in Destiny’s corridors had stirred her nipples into hard points, and now they were showing proudly through her camisole, almost begging to be touched.
Finally, silent appraisal of each other’s bodies complete, their eyes met, and Rush took a step back to allow her inside, closing the door behind her.
She wasn’t quite sure who initiated the kiss. She thought that, in the end, it was probably mutual. Neither of them were great with words, so they just went for it with actions instead, diving in and hoping for the best. Rush’s hands came up to tangle in her hair, and Belle slipped her arms around his back, pulling him in closer. She could feel him beginning to twitch against her hip beneath the sheet, and as they finally pulled away, his eyes were dark with lust.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
Belle nodded firmly. “This is about the only thing I’ve been sure of for a long time. What about you?”
“Oh Belle, I’ve wanted this since Icarus.”
“Really?” Why hadn’t he said anything? Actually, he was Rush, that explained everything. He nodded, then kissed her again to pre-empt further questions. They made it over to the bed in a frenzy of kisses and touches, and Belle pushed Rush back onto it before yanking off her boots and following him down. He acquiesced to her readily as she untucked the sheet and spread it back over the bed, exposing him fully. His cock lay flush against his belly, and Belle ran her fingertip up his hot, rigid length.
“Belle!” he gasped out, catching her hand and pulling her down so that he could kiss her again, yanking the camisole up to free her breasts and rubbing her nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure straight down to her core. She bucked her hips up against his, making him groan.
“I want you,” Belle growled, sitting back on her heels and pulling her camisole off, her jeans and panties soon joining the pile of clothing on the floor. She dived back in for another kiss, pinning Rush’s wrists above his head. For his part, he seemed quite happy to let her take the lead like this, and Belle had to wonder at the contrast between his confident and self-assured manner out on the ship, sniping at anyone else when they dared to encroach on his domain, and his willing and eager submission to her here in the bedroom.
Eventually she let his wrists up, sitting back and bringing his hands back to her breasts. Rush ventured lower, running his hands down her sides and around over her hips to comb his fingers through her fluffy curls and find her cleft, dipping into her entrance and spreading her warm juices along her folds.
Belle was impatient and eager, desperate for the release now that she was here in the same room as him and in a position to claim it. She grabbed Rush’s cock and stroked him up and down a couple of times, causing his own fingers to falter and then move to dig into her hips.
“Oh Belle,” he groaned. “Please don’t tease.”
As much as she enjoyed having him at her mercy like this, Belle had to agree with him. Right now, they both just needed to come, as hard and as fast as possible. There would be time for teasing later. Belle was very much looking forward to seeing what tricks Rush had up his sleeve, and perhaps teaching him some if he didn’t have any.
She rubbed the tip of his cock between her folds, up and down, brushing the head against her clit and moaning with every touch, before she finally sank down onto him, his hips keening up to meet her and sheathing himself in her to the hilt. Belle welcomed him readily, her inner walls pulling him in and fluttering around him. She rocked her hips and Rush’s fingertip found her clit, rubbing rough circles just above where they joined.
There was nothing particularly sensuous in their union; just a frantic race to get them both there, but once they’d both found that wonderful peak and Belle flopped down against Rush’s chest, he held her close, burying his face in her hair and not letting go.
She laughed softly. “Never had you down as the cuddling type, Rush.”
“You’re the only person on this ship I’m even remotely inclined to cuddle.”
Belle smiled before finally tearing herself away from his embrace. He looked somewhat bereft without her, and she hastened to assure him that she’d be back as soon as she’d been to the bathroom.
When she returned, he was fast asleep, dead to the world, but he pressed in close against her as she got back into bed, taking him in her arms.
Within minutes she had surrendered to the same blissful, dreamless oblivion, the best sleep she’d had since coming to Destiny.
Warm Bodies Prompt: After being turned away by Mother Superior & he's bitten, Mr. Gold thinks on his regrets.
He’d managed to get away, but it no longer mattered. He could feel the burn of the bite on his arm, slowly spreading. He wagered that if her rolled up his sleeve he’d be able to see the poison, or whatever it was, spread across his veins. He had a few minutes, which he thought it was a relief. Didn’t want it to drag on and on, didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts too much.
He concentrated on his hatred for Mother Superior for a while, because it was easy and it distracted him. Sanctimonious, two-faced bitch. He might not be a good person, but at least he was honest. He did not pretend to be anything other than a shark, and people dealt with his at their own risk. But Mother Superior hid behind a facade of humility and goodness, and claimed the moral high ground while letting the town rot from the safety of the convent. Whenever one of her little lambs ventured out for food the townspeople fell over themselves to provide it, never thinking for a moment that the good nuns had not opened up their convent, the most fortified placed around, to the orphaned children, or to people too sick to be able to run if the creatures managed to get into town.
They weren’t likely to change his mind after the raid. Not for him, of course, but neither for Gus and Jim, who had been with him. Both had been overrun and sliced opened. Their bodies would likely be too destroyed to turn. He, on the other hand, could already feel his muscles seizing up, limbs twitching slightly. Soon he’d lose control of them completely.
He sat down with his back against a tree trunk and let himself think about anything and everything, trying to recall everything that had brought him joy in his life. Small things, usually, like a good glass of Scotch, or a well-brewed cup of tea, the scent of paint thinner and wood polish he associated with restoring furniture, the feel of a heavy book in his hand that he had yet to read...
Belle French, and her smile. Her enthusiasm every time he asked for a reading recommendation. Her affectionate nature and bold touches. Her dark humour, such a match for his own. He wished he knew she was safe. He wished he knew she was alright. She had to be. The world ought to feel different without her in it, somehow.
He imagined her coming back, imagined the world slowly returning to what it used to be and Belle returning. Imagined her visiting his grave, if there was one, or his shop. She’d mourn him, he knew. And though it shouldn’t, it made him happy. It made him-
His body convulsed, once, twice. And then it all went dark.
When she had found out that she was pregnant, Belle had gone through a range of emotions. The first was panic, closely followed by denial, then by bitter anguish. She had spent much of the day of the test results crying in the university restrooms and lamenting the day she had ever decided to go to bed with Alexander Gold. For a brief moment, she had been tempted to call him to give him the news, just so he could share in some of her misery, but the thought of his cold disdain was too much to face, especially after her father had practically disowned her.
She had made up her mind almost immediately that she would keep the baby, which was one less decision to fret over, but that meant that a number of other choices had to be made, and made quickly. She had the test result confirmed, was given an approximate due date, and had talked to the university about deferring completion of her studies once the baby arrived. She had sought advice from Emma about what to expect throughout pregnancy, had read every book on the subject that she could find, and had tried to ensure that she ate a balanced diet. When she could keep her food down. Overall, she felt that she was about as well-prepared for motherhood as a single woman in her early twenties making minimum wage and with no family to support her could be. Which was not very prepared at all.
Belle had assumed that having Gold tell her categorically that he intended to help out both financially and physically with the baby would make her relax, but in reality it only caused her more anxiety, and she was unsure why that was. Certainly having the apartment had given her some security, and waking up in its large and comfortable bed every morning was like letting out a deep, calming breath. She was free of the constant worry over money and making ends meet, of the landlord knocking at the door to demand rent that she didn’t have. And yet, she still felt an ongoing, exhausting sense of stress, an acidic ball of iron that had settled in her belly and refused to leave.
He was true to his word, picking her up from outside the university in his Cadillac and driving her to the new clinic for her check-up. Belle sat in silence, hands folded in her lap as they went, and once they had parked up Gold offered her his arm. Taking it felt strange, but she tried to put it from her mind, focusing on the doors of the clinic, and beyond them the gleaming waiting area with its plush leather seats and fresh coffee.
There was paperwork to fill out, and tests to be run, but it was nothing she hadn’t been through before. Gold seemed anxious as the doctor held the consultation with her, but Belle was unfazed by the questions asked and the measurements taken. She had expected this first visit to take a little longer, given that she was a new patient. Dr Jekyll was a nervous-looking man who blinked a lot, but he seemed to know what he was talking about.
“Well, the baby seems to be developing as expected,” he said at last. “You’re a little underweight, though. You could do with eating a little more, if you can manage it.”
“I’ve been trying to tell her that,” put in Gold, and Belle glared at him.
“Yeah, well, there’s only so many hours in the day,” she muttered. “I have work and study to take care of, alongside everything else.”
“Then try to make sure you get as much nutrient-dense food as possible,” said Dr Jekyll kindly. “Carry snacks with you as you go about, and make sure you don’t go too long between meals. Building a baby is hard work, you need to make sure your body has the fuel it needs.”
“I’ll try to feed her up,” said Gold.
“Good, good,” said Jekyll vaguely, looking at his notes. “I don’t expect there to be much change between now and next week, but try to make sure she eats a range of quality foods, not just sugar.”
Belle bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from snapping at both of them.
“Well, the good news is there’s not long to go now,” said Jekyll, peering at his computer screen. “You’re due on May fifth, correct?”
“Yeah.”
“A spring baby,” he said, glancing at her over the top of his glasses. “This cold weather will have cleared up by then. A little sunshine to welcome the new light in your life.”
He smiled at her, and Belle couldn’t help smiling back. Yes. She was looking forward to the baby being born. Quite how it would change her relationship with its father was still to be seen.
x
After the doctor’s appointment, they went to buy paint. Belle had chosen the colours she wanted: lilac and pale blue for the nursery and terracotta for the kitchen. She hadn’t made a decision on the lounge and bedrooms yet, and Gold said it could wait until she was sure. He bought paint trays, rollers and brushes, along with a set of painting overalls for her to wear and several large sheets to spread over the floors and furniture.
“Thanks,” she said, as they packed everything into the trunk of the car. “You know how clumsy I am. I’ll probably track paint all over the apartment without these.”
“I could still get professionals in to paint the walls,” he said.
“Thanks, but I’d like to do it myself,” she said. “It - it would help to make the place feel more like mine, you know?”
“I understand.”
Gold closed the trunk, taking a step back.
“I can always help you out, if you like,” he ventured, but she shook her head.
“Emma and Neal have already said they’ll help,” she said. “We’re gonna have kind of a paint-the-apartment party this weekend.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “Well, if there’s anything else you need, just let me know.”
He flashed her a brief smile, the light catching in his eyes. He looked very handsome with his short hair, and she looked away, pain making her mouth twist. She hadn’t been lying when she told him she couldn’t move past him. How long would it take for her to fall out of love with him? Forever, she imagined, if he continued to act like a decent human being. Damn him.
x
As the afternoon wore on, he continued to treat her with a gentle solicitude, insisting on taking her for tea at a nearby deli and watching as she ate a piece of pumpkin pie with cream that had been laced with cinnamon and whipped to soft peaks. Pumpkin pie probably wasn’t what Dr Jekyll had had in mind when he told her to eat more, but it was so delicious she didn’t really care. Gold waved away her offer to share, merely drinking a black coffee, and she wondered if he had appointed himself her nutritionist. Chief engineer of the baby-making machine. The thought made her frown to herself, but it didn’t stop her from eating the pie.
After the deli, Gold took her to a large department store that she had never before set foot in due to the prices. Inside was a beautiful glittering paradise of sleek synthetic marble and polished wood, filled with the scents of hundreds of perfumes and toiletries. The baby section was large, a sea of pink and blue and white, and she felt out of place in her scuffed boots and five-year-old coat, although she tried not to let it bother her.
Gold seemed almost animated by the shopping trip, having lengthy discussions with the sales staff about items to purchase and displaying a surprising amount of knowledge about what babies needed. Belle largely left him to it, wandering along behind him with the little shopping cart and only giving input when he asked. They agreed on a set of furniture in pale grey and white, a chest of drawers and dresser with a large, well-cushioned chair in which she could sit and feed the baby. It was a strange thing to think of, that the child inside her would very soon be on the outside, in her arms and looking for her to feed it and keep it safe. It was overwhelming if she thought about it too much, so she tried to put it from her mind. Low-level terror over being responsible for a tiny human would have to wait.
“So, the furniture can be delivered on Wednesday afternoon,” he said, making her look up. “Is that alright?”
“Uh - can we make it Thursday?” she asked. “I have to work Wednesday.”
“Ah. Well, how about next week?” he asked. “You’ll have stopped working by then, right?”
“Right.”
“And I suppose it’ll be better, because the nursery will have been painted,” he added. “You can just take everything for the baby in there, rather than store it elsewhere in the apartment.”
“Right,” she repeated.
“I’ll tell them when it comes to paying for everything,” he said. “Let’s keep looking.”
He hurried off with what was almost a spring in his step, and she watched him go, a wave of sadness washing over her. She became more withdrawn as they made their way around the section, and responded with unenthusiastic murmurs to his suggestions. Gold eyed her with a slight frown on his face at first, which made her bristle, although she tried not to show it.
“I have a crib,” she told him, as he was looking over the third one that afternoon. “Emma was going to lend me Henry’s.”
“Our child doesn’t need hand-me-downs,” he said dismissively. “Besides, what if she chooses to have another baby? She’ll need it back.”
“I think that’s highly unlikely in the middle of her studies, don’t you?”
“I think babies come when they come,” he replied.
Belle sighed, and left him to it, merely nodding when he asked if she agreed with his choice. She could feel herself getting ever more anxious and resentful, and while she told herself that he was stepping up and supporting her as she had wanted, and that she was therefore being unreasonable, she couldn’t seem to shake her negativity. The reactions of the staff didn’t help.
“Are you and your husband finding everything okay?” chirped the third sales assistant in ten minutes, as Belle pawed listlessly through a rack of romper suits. Gold was some way ahead, his free arm filled with clothing in a myriad of colours.
“We’re not married,” she said coldly, and the sales assistant beamed.
“Oh, sorry! Still, plenty of time for that. I guess you’ve been concentrating on preparing for baby, right?”
“I’ve mostly been concentrating on not killing him,” said Belle flatly, and flourished one of the suits. “Do you have this in any other colours?”
“Uh - let me check out back.”
The sales assistant wandered off, and Belle heaved a sigh of relief.
“What about these?”
She looked around to see Gold holding up a pair of patterned booties with pom-poms hanging from strings. He shook them at her, a wide smile on his face as the pom-poms bounced.
“Adorable, hmm?” he said. “How could you resist them?”
“What are you doing?” she demanded, and he looked puzzled.
“Picking out baby things.”
“No,” she said. “No, I mean - I mean what are you doing?”
His confusion only seemed to increase.
“I don’t understand.”
“Forget it,” she sighed, snatching the booties off him and dropping them in the cart.
She could feel him staring after her as she walked off, but to give him his due he soon caught her up, dropping his choices into the cart and making quiet suggestions as to other things they might need. It felt as though he had picked up on her mood and was trying to placate her, which only made her more irritated, and then annoyed at herself for being irrational. It was a relief when he announced that they probably had enough to be going on with, and went to pay for everything. She was silent on the way back to the apartment, and the atmosphere between them was heavy and dark, making her feel awkward as she plucked at the skin on the back of her hand: a nervous, repetitive gesture.
Gold could sense that Belle was annoyed with him, although he wasn’t sure why that was, other than the massive fuck-up that had led to them being in this situation in the first place. She didn’t seem to want to talk about it, though, and he didn’t know what to say, so he endured the painful silence on the journey back to her apartment. He helped her carry up the tins of paint and the bags of brushes and rollers, and she thanked him quietly as he set them on the kitchen counter. She had stepped back, towards the window with its view over the park, and was looking out of it and chewing her lip.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” he asked, his voice seeming loud in the tense silence, and she shook her head. He heaved a sigh.
“Belle, you seem upset with me,” he said wearily. “I don’t know why, besides the obvious, so can you please tell me what I’ve done?”
“You haven’t done anything.”
It was said automatically, and in something of a monotone. He wasn’t sure she believed it any more than he.
“Please,” he said again. “I know this is a difficult time for you, and I know the baby’s arrival must be making you nervous, so if there’s anything I can do…”
He left it hanging, hoping she would help him out and tell him what she needed. Belle seemed to wriggle uncomfortably, sucking her teeth a little.
“It’s - it’s hard,” she said eventually.
“I know,” he said carefully. “That’s why I’m trying to make sure you have as little to worry about financially as I can, and why I wanted to get everything the baby might need.”
“No,” she said. “It’s hard - it’s hard having you around.”
She wasn’t really looking at him, her eyes darting furtively to him and then away, her shoulders hunched a little. It felt as though a heavy weight had lodged in his throat and was making its way slowly down towards his stomach.
“Oh,” he said, because he couldn’t think of anything else. You’re a fucking idiot. Of course it’s hard. Why would she want the person who broke her heart back in her life? Moron!
“It feels—” Belle screwed up her nose, glancing away. “It’s like when we’re out shopping together and people treat us like we’re a married couple or something, and it’s like a slap in the face every damn time.”
“Why do you care what people think?”
“That’s not the point…” She ran her hands over her face. “It’s not what they think, it’s - it’s what it is. Maybe I’m not explaining it all that well. I’m not sure I even know what I mean.”
“Okay,” he said, bewildered. “Well, in that case, why don’t you tell me what you need?”
“I need you to go,” she said decidedly, nodding.
The weight settled in his lower belly, spreading outwards and anchoring his feet to the floor.
“Right,” he said, his voice hollow. “Right. Then I’ll go.”
“Thank you.”
She was hugging herself now, arms folded protectively over the top of her swollen belly. He wanted to hug her himself, to take her in his arms and hold her close, to offer her comfort and reassurance. It hit him hard in the gut, a painful, breathtaking blow as he realised that he had never done so. Not once. He tried to think of a time when he had shown her some intimacy without them having sex, and couldn’t. God, no wonder she hated him! He swallowed hard, his mouth dry.
“Can I still take you to your next appointment?” he asked, his voice sounding eerily calm in his head, and she nodded.
“Of course.”
“There’s still the matter of seeing my lawyer,” he went on. “Perhaps we can schedule them both for the same day.”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
“Right,” he said, for what felt like the hundredth time. “Then I’ll see you next Monday.”
She nodded again, dark curls bouncing around her shoulders, still hunched against him, shutting him out.
“I’ll go back to Storybrooke,” he added, figuring it would do her good to know he wouldn’t be in the city. That he wouldn’t be haunting her, stalking her from the shadows as she tried to go on with her life.
“Thank you,” she said again, and hesitated. “Sorry.”
“No need to apologise,” he said, his tone wry. “It’s all my fault, after all.”
She hung her head a little, as though she agreed with him, but didn’t want to say it aloud. He could feel his hand beginning to ache from gripping the cane handle, and loosened his grip.
“Well,” he said. “I’ll see myself out.”
She nodded, giving him one final glance. Her blue eyes were filled with sadness, and guilt, and regret. He could feel his own emotions rising up inside him, wanting to burst out and drown him, and so he nodded stiffly and turned away, heading for the door with a slow and heavy tread. She needed space. He could give her that, at least.
Three things Thursday for Storybrooke's Best Kept Secret, about Mr. Gold. (yes, I asked for this story for tmi Tuesday, but what can I say, I'm interested!)
It is perfectly lovely that you’re interested in SBKS, and I’m happy to answer your questions
He is the same, if not more antagonistic to a certain person.
He has a relationship with someone we did not see happen on the show.
When he ‘awakens’ he is NOT going to be a happy bunny.
I am very interested in "Storybrooke's Best Kept Secret." Do you have an outline? Will this be a long multichapter story, or a shorter one?
I have a really loose outline for SBKS right now, but now I have time to work on expanding that to a more workable planning document. This is one that took me by surprise really. When it began its life, it was meant to be for the RCIJ prompt I received, but I quickly realized that it wasn’t going to work for that. I had a writing tutor one time who said that a writer should /never/ delete/throw away anything they’ve written. So I just saved it elsewhere, and let my mind wander over it to get to that loose plan.
As for what form it will take, I /think/ it will be multichapter somewhere in the mid range. By the nature of it, once word is out, it’s not the best kept secret any more... I think I’ll be aiming for something in the region of 10 chapters, but - well, you know how /that/ works out, right?
