Prologue

"Busy night tonight. We'll have to send someone down."

"Gracious me, what a difficult case…the measures must be extreme for Mr. Gold, I think."

"Yes, it's his crucial night, but let's not forget Belle Bailey."

"Is she sick?"

"Worse, she's discouraged. At exactly 10:45 PM tonight, earth time, that girl will be thinking seriously of throwing away God's greatest gift. I believe it's Nova's turn."

"Nova? She hasn't got her wings yet!"

"No, but she has the faith of a child and even more enthusiasm. I think Nova could help her far better than any of us."

"Very well…but what shall we do with Mr. Gold?"

"Don't you worry about him, I've something special planned in mind. In fact, if Nova does a good job, we might be certain of a joint happy ending for Mr. Gold and Belle."

"You can't mean—"

"Never mind that, we've work to do. Go and fetch Nova. It's time to begin."

XXXX

There were three things Rutherford Gold hated absolutely—Regina Mills, the Bailey Building and Loan, and Christmas.

It was obvious why he hated Regina Mills. She had been a constant source of opposition since he came to Storybrooke. She was the mayor, as well as the head of most of the boards in the community, and she ruled the little town like a queen. She didn't like that the properties and capital were something outside her realm—they were Gold's. They never actively fought, but a cold war remained between the two nonetheless. The various sections of town either belonged to Regina or to him, there was no midway.

Well, aside from the Bailey Building and Loan.

The Bailey Building and Loan, founded by Moe and Clara Bailey, was an irritating place. The little upstart company helped residents of Storybrooke buy their own houses—out of Gold's control and out of Regina's jurisdiction. For years, Regina had tried to find legal loopholes to ban the building and Gold had tried his hardest to bankrupt it. Nevertheless, it remained.

He came close. Once. When Clara Bailey died several years ago, it seemed that Moe Bailey lost all common sense and heart for the place. It nearly went under, until Belle took over.

Gold had not counted on Belle Bailey. The bright, charming daughter of Moe and Clara had more talent and cleverness than most of Storybrooke combined. She had been destined for greatness, offered a full ride at Stanford University, and there was no doubt that she would make her mark on the world.

But she didn't. She turned down the scholarship and chose to take over the Building and Loan.

Gold had not expected a nineteen-year-old girl to manage such a responsibility, but she did, and did it finer than her father or her mother before her. She seemed to have a knack for catching on to whatever scheme he had up his sleeve and countering it with equal savvy. Although he hated the Building and Loan with a fiery passion, he had a good deal of respect for Belle Bailey. He almost wished she worked for him.

But he could handle Regina, and while the Building and Loan was irritating, he respected Belle—there was no getting around Christmas.

It never changed. The lights would go up, the trees would be sold, carols would be sung, and Granny's diner would offer their special Christmas menu. The elementary school would host their pageant, Mary Margaret would try and convince Leroy to dress up as Santa Claus, and cheer and hope would fill the town of Storybrooke.

Gold hated it.

On Christmas Eve, he stormed through the town, spreading as much tension and gloom as he could. He refused to close on Christmas Eve, although Storybrooke pitied the careless shopper who thought they could buy some last minute Christmas gifts at his pawnshop. He scowled and glared at any passerby, suitably frightening Mary Margaret out of her wits. He threatened to evict several nuns that dared to carol on his corner of the street and as they scurried off, he was almost feeling a little better.

Almost.

It was a bitterly cold day, the sky a dirty gray that threatened snow. Gold had just made it to his pawnshop, where he planned on retreating until the snow let up, when his cane slipped on a patch of ice and he lost his balance.

He landed badly. He scraped his hands on the rough pavement and his bad leg felt like it was on fire. He swore fluidly, trying to stand, but slipped again. On his third try, he felt an arm hoist him up. He turned to find himself facing Belle Bailey.

She'd always been a pretty little thing, with chestnut curls and wide blue eyes. She was shorter than him and her voice had a pleasant lilt to it, low and melodic. She looked quite pretty in her teal winter coat and white gloves, bundled up in a camel-colored scarf.

"Are you all right?" Belle asked. "I saw you trip. The ice is really nasty today."

Gold's mouth went a little dry at her concern and he wasn't entirely sure why. "I'm fine," He grumbled. "Someone needs to salt these bloody sidewalks."

"I think Leroy's doing it, he ought to be down here in a little bit," Belle replied. She smiled at him pleasantly.

There was a pause between them as Gold tried to think of something to say. Fear and disgust were easy emotions to deal with in other people, but the problem was, Belle was the only person in Storybrooke who did not feel that way towards him.

Come to think of it, Belle Bailey was the only person that went out of her way to smile at him on the streets. She was never afraid to enter his shop and although her finely sharpened business sense kept her from entering any deals with him, it didn't stop her from buying things at the pawnshop. Gold didn't like to admit it, but although their collective interactions were brief, he remembered each one in detail.

"Well," Belle shuffled her feet a little. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Gold. I hope you have a nice one."

Gold snorted. "Merry Christmas, hm. And what's so merry about it?"

She grinned. "Somehow, it doesn't surprise me that you wouldn't like Christmas, Mr. Gold. That's a shame. I think a good snowball fight would knock the stick out of your ass in no time."

He blinked at her and had no idea how to respond to this, earning a delighted giggle from Belle.

"What do you have to be so merry about?" Gold asked finally, recovering his wits. "You're poor enough."

"What reason do you have to be crabby?" Belle shot back. "You're rich enough."

Touche. "I hate this time of year," Gold heard himself confess. "Dreadful weather, full of ridiculous sentimentality."

Belle laughed, a lovely musical sound. "I love the snow, but I hate driving in it. But come on, Mr. Gold. Surely you can admit there's something nice about spending Christmas with your loved ones."

Gold was about to retort it wasn't so nice when you had no one loved ones, but decided against it, not wanting her to think he was fishing for pity. He grunted instead.

"I think there's even something romantic about it," Belle remarked. "I'd love to curl up by a fireside and watch ridiculously sentimental Christmas specials with someone." She gave him another bright smile, rendering Gold incapable of speech for a minute. Her little proclamation had the undertones of flirtation, but Gold quickly convinced himself he was imagining things.

"Belle!" Moe Bailey popped out of the library, arms full of books. "What—what's wrong?" His eyes darted towards Gold nervously.

"Nothing," She replied smiling at her father. "Just wishing Mr. Gold a merry Christmas."

"Hmph," Moe grunted, casting another nervous and peevish look at Gold. "I'm sure it'll be merry enough."

Gold felt a stab of annoyance. "I'm sure," He retorted. "I'm sure yours will be very merry as well, assuming you pay me the rent you owe. And I hear you have company—didn't Mayor Mills send over the bank examiner?"

"How do you know that?" Moe demanded. "You sneaking, warped, frustrated old—"

"That's enough," Belle said firmly. "C'mon, dad. We've a lot to do today and we don't want to dawdle. Merry Christmas, Mr. Gold." She gave him another smile before ushering her father down the street. Gold watched until her little form disappeared.

Humbug.

XXXX

"Dad, it's Christmas," Belle scolded. "Couldn't you offer Mr. Gold a little Christian charity?"

"Ha!" Moe snorted violently, shaking the snow from his boots as they entered the Building and Loan. "I'd give him far more than he'd give us. I don't want you talking to him, Belle. He's a greedy old miser and would like nothing more for this Building and Loan to go under."

"Maybe so," Belle allowed, turning the electric kettle on. "But I think he's lonely. I think it's a pity for anyone to be alone on Christmas."

"You're too kind, Belle," Moe grumbled. "Gold is nothing short of a monster and a plague on Storybrooke. Thinks his money gives him power. Thinks he's better than everyone." He slammed the books on one of the tables, scattering pens everywhere.

Belle patiently gathered up the pens. "Maybe so, but that doesn't stop a person from getting lonely."

"Well, who could even stand to be with him?" Moe wanted to know.

Belle sighed in resignation, deciding to drop the subject. "Have you gotten the books ready, Dad? The bank examiner should be here in a little while."

"Yes, yes, yes," Moe said distractedly. "I'm not a child, Belle, I've run this business far longer than you."

With Mom's help, Belle thought silently. "All right then, looks like everything's in order," She said promptly. "Water should boil in a few minutes for your tea. I'm going out to meet Ruby now, we're exchanging Christmas gifts. I'll be back in a few hours or so."

"All right then," Moe waved her off, heading into his office.

Belle sighed with relief, stepping out into the cold day. Another Christmas in Storybrooke, like all the others she'd experienced in the twenty-seven years of her life. It only took Belle a few minutes to get to Granny's and to her delight, it began to snow even harder. Her heart felt a little lighter. She took a seat by the window and Ruby joined her.

"Everything okay?" Ruby asked with a smile, setting down two mugs of hot chocolate.

"Sure is," Belle said, attempting cheer. "I think it's going to be a great Christmas. Tell Granny I think her decorations are beautiful."

"I will," Ruby replied cautiously. "You sure you're all right? You seem a little down."

"Oh, it's a little of everything, I suppose," Belle sighed, taking a sip. "I always miss my mother this time of year. She made Christmas so special. And when I think of her, I can't help but wonder if she'd be disappointed in how my life turned out."

Ruby snorted. "I find that very hard to believe. Besides, you didn't go to Stanford to help your dad. Surely she'd be pleased about that."

"Maybe," Belle acknowledged, ripping a napkin into little pieces. It was a habit of hers when she was thinking or nervous. "But she was always so excited for me to take on the world, you know? She knew how much I wanted to go to college—I mean, maybe she was even living through me a little bit, since she didn't get to go. I just can't help but feel like I'm wasting my life."

"Just because your life isn't what you planned, doesn't mean it's a waste," Ruby said firmly. "I don't think you know how much good you've done, Belle."

"I suppose so," Belle sighed again, finishing her hot chocolate. "I'm sorry I can't stay for very long, I need to get back to the Building and Loan. The bank examiner's coming, and I want to make sure everything's in order."

"All right then," Ruby smiled as Belle handed her a gift with teacup wrapping paper. "Let me guess—a book?"

"A really good book," Belle said weakly. Belle always gave books for Christmas, not because she wasn't considerate of others' wants, but simply because she thought they made the best presents.

Ruby's present was a lovely mug and a package of iced tea—Belle's favorite brand. The two girls hugged and Belle left the diner with a sigh.

XXXX

"You can't do this to us, Gold!"

Gold's upper lip curled. "Me? I'm doing nothing. The terms of the loan were very specific. I'm within my rights to evict." He stared at the young man coolly from across the counter.

"This isn't right!" Sean shouted, his fists tightening. "You can't just cast us out like that! It's Christmas Eve, you can't do this to us!"

"I don't care what day it is, and I certainly can and will," Gold replied smoothly. "I suggest you make some arrangements—"

"Ashley's pregnant!" Sean yelled. "She could have the baby any day now! My dad's kicked me out, her stepmother won't take us, we have no other arrangements! You have to give us an extension!"

"I don't grant extensions," Gold informed him. "As you well know. As for your fiancée, I express my sympathies, but when Miss Boyd decided against giving up the child for adoption, causing myself and others a major inconvenience, it was with the understanding that you would support and care for her. Your failure to do that is not my concern."

"You son of a bitch!" Sean exploded into an impressive display of profanity.

"Enough," Gold said slightly bored. "Please see yourself to the door, I'd hate to call Dove."

For a brief instant, it looked as though Sean would hit Gold, but instead he stormed outside, slamming the door behind him. Gold's bell clanged to the floor. Rolling his eyes, Gold limped over and retrieved it.

Another reason to find this holiday completely ridiculous. People would spend the rent and mortgage money on frivolities like presents and decorations and turkey dinners, and then blame him, for acting like a rational landlord.

"I do hope he hasn't broken my little bell," Gold said to himself mildly, inspecting it as it lay in the palm of his hand. As he spoke the words, his mind flashed on Belle Bailey's sad little smile. Despite her cheer, he sensed she'd been a little downcast and wondered why.

Not that it mattered. Belle Bailey's life was no concern of his. Taking a deep breath, he hung the bell up and retreated to his counter, where he prepared to lock up.

At that moment, he had the strangest feeling that he was being watched. His head jerked up and he quickly scanned the room and windows, but all was quiet. The people of Storybrooke had retreated indoors for their Christmas festivities; none were lurking outside or inside his shop. Still feeling uneasy, he put on his black coat and gloves and double-checked his alarm system.

All seemed well. Gold cleared his throat and grumbled something suspiciously like 'humbug' and exited the shop, walking down the snowy path towards his house. His mind was on nothing but dinner, yet he still couldn't escape the feeling of being watched, as if there were eyes in every hedge bush. It was disconcerting to say the least.

He went through his usual routine once at home, going over his accounts, taking a light dinner, and finishing the newspaper. After dinner, he was just making himself a cup of tea when an icy wind flew through the room.

"What—?" Gold snarled, limping about his living room to find the open window. But no windows were open.

He had just convinced himself that he was imagining things when a loud, terrible clanking broke the silence. It was almost as though someone were dragging chains all around him.

"Who's there?" Gold shouted. "Show yourself!"

Like a dying flame, the very air flickered, and a mass of shadows appeared mold together. The shadows gained definition and detail, and to Gold's shock, a familiar face greeted him. The spirit was also bedecked in a myriad of ghostly and transparent chains, enveloping its body, causing a dreadful racket. But Gold couldn't pay attention to these.

"Zoso," He sucked in his breath, clutching the handle of his cane.

It was from Jacob Zoso that Gold had received his riches. Everything Gold had—the power, mass ownership over most of Storybrooke's homes, even his pawnshop—had once belonged to Zoso. That was, until Gold had arrived and taken everything from him.

He'd died recently—Gold had seen the obituary a few days ago—but aside from that, the older man had barely crossed Gold's thoughts.

"You're not real," Gold informed him. "You're—this isn't real."

The phantom smiled, a grotesquely awful expression that made Gold shiver. "Why do you doubt your senses?"

"Because you're dead!" Gold shouted. "And there's no such thing as ghosts!"

Zoso cackled horribly, a wheezing, dreadful noise, clanging his chains in emphasis.

"All right," Gold snapped irritably. "You've made your point—although I'm still banking on you being a hallucination—what do you want? And why are you chained?"

"I wear the chain I forged in life," Zoso returned. "You wear such a chain yourself, Rutherford Gold. I have done many a terrible thing, but when you took my place in this town, your wicked heart consumed even more darkness."

"I did no more than you did!" Gold snarled.

Zoso ignored him. "You will be haunted by Three."

"Three ghosts?!" Gold demanded.

"I didn't say that," Zoso retorted. "But you will be haunted by Three. Expect the first when the bell tolls midnight!"

XXXX

When Belle returned to the Building and Loan, she was greeted with the sight of her father flinging papers everywhere and looking mad with panic.

She stared at him, slowly dropping her purse on a chair. "Dad," She said cautiously. "What—what's wrong with you?"

He turned to her, his face ashen and gray. "There's a deficit," He choked out. "We're missing $25,000."