Unrequited
Rated: K+
Pairings: Gold/Belle
Disclaimer: It could not be less mine. Once Upon a Time belongs to Adam Horowitz and Eddy Kitsis, ABC and Disney. This disclaimer applies for the whole story.
Spoilers: As long as you've seen the first season and watch Disney on occasion, you're safe.
Summary: Three years ago Belle had fallen into his arms and he had fallen for her. But he buried his feelings deep inside his heart, determined not to slip up. Until Ruby asks a favor of him. AU/No curse.
Genre: Romance/Drama

Chapter 1: All Star/Halleluja

He re-arranged his body a fraction so he'd have a better view on the bar. Safely hidden from casual looks thrown his way by the large Wallstreet Journal he pretended to be reading - thanking his lucky stars that it had not yet switched to tabloid size - he sipped his strong double Espresso and peered cautiously around the edge of his paper.

She was seated on one of the stools at the bar, her red coat and brown leathered satchel bag carelessly tossed on the stool next to her.
From his vantage point he could observe her carefully.
'Staring, you old snake,' his ever present, ever accusing inner-voice admonished him. 'It's called staring… leering even if you want to pinpoint it exactly.'

And yet, he couldn't help himself. He allowed his eyes to travel from he elegant, sky-high, chocolate brown heels, across the shapely legs clad in brown stockings to the wool, caramel-colored dress she was wearing, the large belt around her waist accentuating all her beautiful curves. His gazed lingered at the curve of her neck, visible because she wore her chestnut curls up in a high bun today, only a few soft strands dancing around her ears, contrasting sharply with the brilliant white of her skin.

From this particular booth he could just make out her profile. The high forehead, her sparkling blue eyes with the impossible long eyelashes, her rosy cheeks and her smiling mouth. Those red, plump lips that seemed forever to be moving. Chatting, smiling, grinning… It struck him once again how he had never come across someone who was so lively, so vibrant.

She was leaning on the bar, eating her cereal, sipping her coffee and talking to Ruby, the rather fierce waitress of Granny's Diner who took full advantage of the momentarily lull during breakfast rush to talk to her friend.

Apparently Ruby had said something highly amusing, because her melodious laughter rang through the diner.

Realizing he was in a great danger of raising suspicion if he continued looking at her for much longer, he shifted his gaze back to the words on the page before him, enjoying the familiar tingling sensation the sound of her laughter always evoked within him.

It was all worth it. The relentless mockery inside his head. The burning shame he felt when he sat down to watch what wasn't his, what never would or could be his. The fear of getting caught out and having to endure her disgust, her anger or far worst than that, her pity.

It was all worth it, just to hear Belle French laugh.

It had all started out as one of his schemes. Years ago, as he had invested the very successful outcome of a business deal into various real estate in town, he had bought the old library building. The building and the library that had found its home there had been declining for many years by then and as a result the library was heavily neglected and at the time there hadn't been the need nor the resources to keep the facility open.

So instead, he had stored the valuable part of the library's collection of books away, spend some money on the external renovation of the building and rented it out to various business entrepreneurs who had exploited the building as a clothing boutique, a restaurant and for a very short time a candlemaker's store.

Then Mayor Mills had gotten the crazy idea into her head that Storybooke town should compete for the title of 'Fairest town of them all', a competition held every five years throughout Maine, determining which town could boast on being the best-kept, best facilitated, generally best town to live in of the state.

Having a library had been a major condition in being eligible to even enter the competition and he had fared well by the sudden demand, being able to supply both the building and the inventory for a library.
Technically, only the building and part of the collection belonged to him, in reality the entire library was his, since Mayor Mills had taken up a substantial loan to be able to finance the rest of realization of the library.

As primary investor and owner of the building he had a decisive say during board direction meetings and he had exercised that control fully when it had come to appointing a librarian.

He had already sat though four excruciating, mind-numbing job interviews - with the last candidate he had seriously wondered if she was able to read at all - when the fifth and final candidate had walked in.

Despite his reputation, he hadn't been too old, or too solitary to notice that she was attractive. When she had introduced herself as 'Belle French' he'd thought the name suited her well. But it had particularly been her clear, crystal blue eyes and the way she had looked him straight in the eye for the entire duration of their encounter that had sparked his interest.

He had grilled her mercilessly during the interview, her witty rebuttals to his sharp, critical questions only edging him on further. She had stood her ground firmly, but from the red spots appearing in her neck he could tell he was definitely getting under her skin and he had enjoyed himself immensely.
At the end of the day, she'd been offered the position of librarian - being miles ahead of every other candidate, although he never bothered to tell her that - and he had looked forward to their collaboration.

She amused him. He wanted to draw her out and see how far he could push her before he gained the upper hand in their verbal sparring. She was smart, she had every promise of becoming an excellent librarian and she wasn't bad to look at.

He had definitely struck worst types of deals in his life.

Then, about a week before the library was about to be re-opened, he'd stopped by the place to check on the progress of the furnishing. He'd used his master key to enter the building and walked into the deserted main area, rather impressed to see that the ceiling-high bookcases were already filled with books and neatly categorized. His new librarian had certainly been busy. Carefully putting his cane down - an aid he used since the horrible events that had transpired eighteen years ago - so to not make any noise, he followed the sound of her humming, quietly as a mouse making his way through the maze of bookcases. When he finally spotted her, he stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening at the sight in front of him.
Only a few feet away, standing on her tiptoes on the world's most unstable stepladder stood Belle French, pulling furiously at the black adhesive plastic covering the windows. He couldn't hold back a grin as she cursed softly under her breath and muttered: "Did they bloody hot glued this on?" before giving another massive tug.

Then several things happened at once. A large piece of the plastic came undone, causing Belle to stagger backwards and the stepladder to wobble dangerously. She flapped her arms to try and steady herself but then one of her stiletto heels slipped off the ladder and she started to tumble backwards.

Purely on instinct, he rushed forward, his cane dropping to the floor as he reached out and caught her just before she hit the ground.
She didn't cry out until then, her arm automatically going around his neck, her head landing on his shoulder with a soft thud.

He stumbled on the spot, his ankle protesting sharply agains the sudden movement and he gripped her tighter to hold on.

After finally regaining his balance, he stared into her eyes, overwhelmed by a rush of sensations caused by how her eyes seemed so much bluer and brighter up close, especially surrounded by the dark eyelashes. How her hair smelled of something flowery… How warm and soft her body felt in his arms. How he was actually holding a woman in his arms, one that wasn't scrambling to get away from him or looked at him in disgust.

He continued to stare into her eyes for what felt like a lifetime, captivated by the look of wonder in them, until she made a soft noise and the spell broke.

Shaking his head slightly he suddenly became aware that he was still cradling her close and he put her down awkwardly, stepping away the second he was certain she was standing on her own two feet.

"M-Mr. Gold!" she said breathlessly, bringing up a shaking hand to wipe a strand of hair out of her face. Then she looked up at him, a smile starting at the corners of her mouth and soon filling her entire face. "Thank you… you've saved my neck just there."

He made an unarticulated sound, words not forming in his still dazed mind. To buy himself some time he turned around to pick up his cane. By the time he'd risen up, he had managed to find a semblance of control again and when she asked him - still with that dazzling smile on her face - "Why did you stop by anyway?" he was able to reply, albeit his words came out a lot harsher than he intended them to be.

"I was merely checking on my investment, Miss French. I didn't anticipate to encounter a librarian with a death wish. Or with a desire to end my life." He eyed her heels with a malicious frown.

To his utter surprise, she merely laughed at his words, a bubbly giggle that caused his heart an unexpected flutter.

"I assure you I have neither," she reassured him. "I was just trying to get that hideous plastic off and let some sunlight in."

He was taken aback by her easy friendliness. Usually people couldn't get away from him fast enough, she however was gathering the pieces of plastic she had managed to get off and continued to chatter as she made her way towards the circulation desk. "The place is coming together nicely," she informed him. "I'm almost done categorizing and shelving the books. And for the official opening next week, Mrs Jones has agreed to cater."

It was too much, he decided. His head was swimming and he felt suffocated between the walls and the endless shelves of books. Needing to get away from her overwhelming presence and those vibrant eyes that bore holes in his skin, he cut her off mid-sentence.

"I must leave now. I trust you will handle all the preparations adequately."

He knew he had spoken harshly again and for the first time since he'd entered the library a look of uncertainty clouded her face.

He had already began to limp away when her voice stopped him.
"Mr Gold… wait…"

Against his own better judgement he paused and turned back again. She was looking at him far more abashed than she ever had before, her voice sounding quiet and subdued.
"I'm sorry about before… But I'm glad you were there… so thank you… again…"

"It's no matter…" He aimed to sound nonchalantly, but cringed inwardly at the hoarseness of his voice.
Then he did turn around and walked away. Faster than he should, considering his ankle was throbbing dully.

But not nearly as fast as the frantic beating of his heart.

Sleep never found him that night. He lay wide-awake, staring at the ceiling, reliving the encounter in the library again and again.
He could recall the feel of her and the smell of her scent so vividly as if his senses had burned them into his memory.

He had spend the last eighteen years alone, carefully constructing walls around himself. He knew he was feared in town, his reputation of ruthless businessman, lawyer and landlord was widespread. He was known for his shrewd deals, his scheming and his ability to present agreements that made everyone bend to his will.

'Every loan is going to cost you.' He must have spoken those words a hundred times in the past two decades.

Ever since he stopped caring. Ever since he had learned that all that mattered in life was that he never lost the upper hand.
He didn't give freely and he never received anything he hadn't earned. Either by manipulation or because he had paid the price.

Nothing ever happened to him before he had calculated the consequences first.

Until now.
He'd tried with all his might to reason this sudden rush of emotion away, for the first time welcoming the voice that mocked and ridiculed his feelings.
'You lecherous bastard… a pretty face and a warm body is all it takes, doesn't it? Not yet decrepit enough not to lust after that…'

It was just lust. Just a primal craving, he decided as the first daylight crept through his window. Nothing more.
And as he got dressed and went about his day, he forced himself not to remember her eyes or the feel of her arm around his neck or the soft lilt in her voice.

In the days that followed he began to feel like fate had it in for him, because she was everywhere he turned. She was at the news kiosk, leafing through a magazine just as he was buying his morning paper.
She was at Granny's diner as he went in for a coffee or a quick bite to eat.

She was crossing the street, just as he rounded the corner, her nose buried in a book.

She appeared in his dreams the moment he closed his eyes and drifted off.

And every time he saw her his heart clenched with longing.

Eventually he admitted defeat. He had fallen for her the moment she'd fallen into his arms. This realization gave him an odd sense of resignation. But acknowledging his feelings didn't mean he would give in to them. He buried his feelings deep inside this heart to be treasured and cherished there, but closed it off all the same.

He might held on to his love for her, but he would not, could not ever pursue her.

Instead he placed himself under a tight reign. He didn't visit the library more than once, occasionally two times a month. When he came by to collect rent he kept his calls as brief and businesslike as possible. He never looked at her for more than a second before adverting his eyes. He was careful never to mention her name or to talk about her. He wouldn't slip up. He wouldn't give himself away.

The only concession he allowed himself was his morning espresso at Granny's Diner. If anyone would have asked - though no one ever did- he would have claimed that Ruby's talents as a barista ensured he got a decent shot of caffeine every morning .

In reality he was there because she was there every morning. From behind his paper at his secluded booth he lived for these short daily moments where he could just watch her.

She slipped into her coat and swung her bag over her shoulder. He stared firmly at his paper as she passed his booth, her heels softly clicking on the tiles. He didn't release his breath until the little bell above the door chimed.

It had been three years now.

Author's note: I only recently started watching Once Upon A Time and I'm now caught up with the season 1 finale (And I've watched some Rumbelle bit's and pieces from season 2 and 3, but shhhh...) Beauty and the Beast has always been my favorite Disney Classic and I'm thrilled by the Rumple/Belle storyline. And pretty excited to be writing for a new ship. This is my first Rumbelle-inspired story and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it so far.