In Storybrooke, Mr. Gold strives to be the man Bae used to love--until Belle is kidnapped to Neverland. If he resumes his Dark One powers to save her, can he control them? In the Enchanted Forest, Emma battles ogres, zombies and her ex to get back h...
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Sheriff Graham (The Huntsman):Look, can we please talk about this? I need you to understand. (The Heart is a Lonely Hunter)
Mr. Gold took a sip of Darjeeling and eased his bad leg up onto the floral-print hassock Belle had set in front of her plush easy chair. She smiled at him. Instead of sitting down to drink her own tea, she padded in her blue-stocking feet across her wide loft apartment, chattering as she went.
He tried to keep pace with her. "This tea—I'd swear it came from Agrabah." "I see you're still faithfully conserving electricity. You've won me over to the practice." "You were right about the fair. I survived." "My raincoat? Ruined when the car bumped me." "Yeah, I should have worn it anyway. My vanity got me soaked." All the while he gazed at her, filled with disbelieving wonder. She hadn't given up on him—not tonight, anyway.
On the far side, Belle stepped from shadows back into lamplight. Seeing her tumbled hair turn from mahogany to copper, her last question fled Mr. Gold's mind, and his answer came out as a long sigh.
Belle threw him a curious glance then crouched to open a cedar chest at the foot of her bed.
His cheeks warming, Mr. Gold looked away to survey the spacious room. "Independence suits you. You've made a comfortable home. And you've furnished it with some quality pieces. That barrel-back cupboard—eighteenth century Shaker, if I'm not mistaken."
"I defer to Mr. Gold, Pawn Broker and Antiquities Dealer."
The grin in Belle's voice drew his gaze back to her. Watching her striding purposefully towards him, he set his teacup on the side table and reached out for the fluffy white towel tucked in her arms. She raised an eyebrow but continued walking until she was standing behind him.
When the towel came down over his head, Mr. Gold closed his eyes. Starting at his temples and working her way back, Belle briskly dried his hair. In three hundred years, he'd never felt this cherished. He wracked his brain for small talk. He couldn't think of a single thing.
"Rumple, I wish I could wipe away what Cora said to you. That you and I could be so close this evening, only to have your thoughts go there—it makes my heart ache."
"Oh, Belle..." His mouth moved slightly before he could continue. "It was that look on your face when Regina said what she said. I thought..."
"Hmm." She shimmied the towel across the nape of his neck. "How do you expect me to look when I hear some dark secret from your past, something you regret? Pleased?"
"Ach, no." That would be like Cora—the darker, the better. Reaching back, Mr. Gold found Belle's fingers. "Dismay, disapproval, expectation of something better—that's what I need to see from you."
Belle tousled his hair. "And love?"
Mr. Gold's throat tightened. Belle's words echoed Cora's—the brief moment she'd toyed with opening her heart to him... just before she'd ripped it out.
