New York City felt too crowded for him. Though he'd spent his childhood in Glasgow and his early adulthood in London before coming to the States he'd grown unused to big cities after so many years in quaint little Storybrooke. He'd moved there for Bae, ironically, to give him a quiet, healthy upbringing in a place with a low crime rate, lots of green spaces and fresh air. It had driven Millie mad to the point of divorcing him and sailing into the sunset with some merchant marine with a winning smile and a rather flighty nature, as she came to realize later.

In the end, Storybrooke had been too small for Bae, especially with him in it.

He tried not to think too much about the past as he stepped out of the cab in front of what seemed to be the building where his grandson lived. The neighbourhood looked safe, at first glance, and the building itself nice and clean, the sort of dwelling that in New York must cost a pretty penny. It put him at ease, a little, to know his grandson had been well-provided for. Though the elevator was a bit out of date it was blissfully functional, and so when he rang Emma Swan's bell he only had his own nerves to battle with. He had talked to Miss Swan a total amount of two times, the first to introduce himself and awkwardly explain how he had just found out he was a grandfather and wanted her to consider letting him meet little Henry and the second time- her call, not his- to set up a meeting at a time where Henry was at school. Miss Swan, naturally, needed to meet him in person and have a talk before anything else could happen.

When she answered the door she was well-dressed in a black skirt, black stockings and a checkered shirt. Functional but stylish, fitting what little he knew of her. He could tell she was trying to affect a politely cool demeanour but it was clear at first glance that she didn't much care for him. He couldn't fault her for that, not really, so instead he pretended not to notice her underlying anger and distrust.

They proceeded to have what could only be described as the most awkward cup of coffee in the history of mankind while making inane, forced small-talk about the weather and how the cold had arrived early that year. It was comforting, at least, to realize Miss Swan was as much a social butterfly as he was.

Finally one of them, he couldn't remember which, managed to turn the conversation away from the possibility that it'd rain on Tuesday and onto more personal stuff. Miss Swan was very forthcoming about what Bae- Neal, as she kept reminding him- had told her about him and, as he suspected, it wasn't good. Frankly, he was surprised she'd agreed to meet with him at all and he told her so.

"Neal also said that, despite everything, you were a great dad to him growing up. He never doubted you loved him. It wasn't about that at all."

The words couldn't bring Bae back, couldn't retroactively erase the distance and hurt that had been present between them when he'd died, but it helped. The ever-present knot in his stomach unfurled a little and it became a bit easier to breathe.

"Look, you and I are never gonna be pals. It's just a fact of life." The blonde shrugged, like it wasn't a big matter, and he couldn't quite disagree with her. They were both stubborn and prickly and though they could on some level understand each other they'd never be more than barely amicable with each other.

"But what's important here is that I think you genuinely want to be a part of Henry's life and that you'll be nice to him and care about him. I think you already do, actually, cause I cannot think of a more disagreeable scenario for you than coming here all contrite and humble and playing nice in front of a stranger for a chance to even get a glimpse of your grandson. And Henry..." Here Emma choked up a bit, almost unnoticeable. "Henry needs more people in his life. I don't have parents or siblings so it's been just me and him for a long time. And though that's good, that's enough, it's not great. It'd be nice for him to have someone else in his life. More family."

Images of his childhood flitted through his mind. Dead mother, deadbeat father, no siblings... Two wonderful aunts who took him in and raised him the best they could. Certainly family was important for a child, to help them feel safe and supported.

"I'm very glad we seem to see eye to eye on this, Miss Swan. I can promise you that my interest in Henry is not fleeting or circumstantial. I aim to be a part of his life for as long as he'll have me. For me family is forever. Even when..."

He couldn't quite finish, couldn't put into words the way he'd become estranged from Bae. In retrospective he wished he'd done a thousand things different. He'd been too proud to reach out, thinking that if Bae didn't call or come see him it was because he didn't want anything to do with him and he should respect his wishes but he'd have fought more, swallowed his pride and tried to make it clear to Bae that he wanted to reconnect.

But even then, if Bae had but called he'd have gladly gone to him, no matter what.

"I believe you. Neal..." The name seemed to pain her still, and though Royce didn't enjoy her pain it did warm him to know she'd truly loved her son. That she did so still. "Neal was gonna call you, you know? A few days before it happened he mentioned he was gonna call you for your birthday, see if maybe you'd want to go out for coffee or something."

When he next drew breath he had to contain a shuddery sob. He wasn't a sentimental man by nature and he found himself even less comfortable with the idea of a perfect stranger seeing him cry. Miss Swan, apparently terrified at the prospect of dealing with a weepy father-in-law, busied herself with making them coffee, pretending she couldn't see him discreetly dab his eyes with his pocket handkerchief.

From then on things went much smoother. The heavy talk was over, and Miss Swan had apparently decided he was worth introducing to her son. And she was, thankfully, not too proud to resent or reject his tactful offer of financial help for little Henry in the form of a college fund. She was smart enough to put her son's future ahead of her pride and it made him respect her all the more.

They talked about each other then, seeking to become less like strangers by the time Henry was introduced to him. Emma Swan's life sounded about what he'd thought: tough childhood, few attachments, a lot of emotional barriers, a close-knit circle of friends, a rather high-risk job, and a genuinely love for both her son and her deceased husband. It left Royce with little doubt that Bae had been happy in his last years, and it was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

When she asked him about his own life and the special people that might be in it he felt the need to tell her about Belle. It was still new and precious, this more intimate understanding they had, but he was hoping it would turn into a more permanent thing. If so Belle would be a part of Henry's life too, in a way, and the fact that she was a vampire might not sit well with his daughter-in-law.

He told her, in a succinct, non-committal way, that he was seeing someone and she was several decades his senior in spite of not looking a day over twenty-five. To her credit Emma seemed to catch on pretty quickly and assured him it wasn't a problem.

"I've got several vampire friends and Henry has met them. He thinks vampires are the coolest thing ever so I'm sure she'll make you way cooler in his eyes."

After that first meeting he waited nearly a week before Miss Swan called him and told him she'd spoken to Henry about the situation and he was dying to meet him. They arranged for him to come to tea and on the day he thought about cancelling a hundred times, thought about calling with some fake emergency that would necessitate him going back to Storybrooke. Instead he called Belle, and talked to her about how the library was doing and what movie they might watch when he returned and all sorts of nonsensical stuff. It was enough to hear her voice, and feel her close by if only for a moment.

In an effort to cut a less imposing figure in front of his grandson, who surely equated suits with only the stuffiest of adults, he put on dark jeans- which were brand new, a purchase made with this specific task in mind- a plain white t-shirt and his old sheepskin leather bomber jacket. Bae had always loved that jacket, and he'd used it often on camping trips and the like. It felt, a bit, like being cloaked in his happy memories of his boy.

He'd seen pictures of Henry but meeting him in person made him realized just how small the child was. He shouldn't have been surprised, considering the genes he'd passed to the boy, but still it was the first thing he noticed, followed by the fact that Henry, much like a young Bae, was full of energy. He thought the boy would asked reserved around him, thought his mother would have to ease him into things but the moment he stepped into the apartment Henry treated him like he'd always known he had a grandpa- "Can I call you grandpa? I've always wanted to have someone to call that! All my friends do!" He was avidly curious about him, and desirous to introduce him to every toy he owned and every TV show he was watching. Miss Swan didn't appear fazed at all by the child's instant acceptance of a new person into his life and family.

He was also full of questions about him, about his strange accent and his cane and what he did for a living. When he told him about his antiques the boy, bless him, became convinced he was like Indiana Jones only with a cane instead of a whip. Such instant acceptance, that immediate affection, was almost foreign to Royce. He'd only known it once before, when Bae had been placed in his arms and he'd first stared into his son's eyes and he'd stared back.

He extended his visit, but the days flew by and soon financial matters required his presence in Storybrooke. In his last visit Henry was quick to hug him and demand that he promise to come back soon, something he readily agreed to, and reluctantly he made his way back to his Cadillac, packed and parked right outside, and to Storybrooke.

He hadn't felt so alive in years, his mind buzzing with plans. A house in New York City seemed a must, really, with a room designed for Henry alone and another one for Miss Swan in case she felt the need to stay the night with Henry. As a parent he could understand the reluctance to allow one's child to sleep over at someone else's house and he still had a long way to go till she trusted him enough to feel at ease leaving Henry under his care.

Inviting both of them to Storybrooke seemed a good way to go about it. His house had enough spare rooms to accommodate them. Bae's old room could be fixed up and reconditioned for Henry, perhaps with an enchanted forest theme, or something to do with superheroes. There were many festivals that could appeal to a kid like Henry and he bet that, much like Bae had as a child, Henry would love to go trick-or-treating around town.

He felt like he might explode if he didn't talk to Belle about all of it, eager to talk about his plans out loud, make them tangible and real. Belle, he knew, wouldn't mock him for it, wouldn't use it as a tool against him. She'd make his joy her own, would encourage him and discreetly soothe his fears, muffling the little voice in his head that told him that, just like Bae had drifted away, distanced himself from him, so would Henry one day.

It was a strange notion, having both something to be excited about and someone to share it with and so though he'd promised Belle to stop for the night instead of driving on the night was clear- the clouds from an earlier shower having dissipated- and he was in a hurry to go home. The roads where deserted and the full moonlight provided more than a bit of light, prompting him to speed up the Caddy a bit, something he didn't get to do in Storybrooke. With luck he'd make it around one o'clock, in time to catch Belle sipping her daily cup of blood, curled up on her living room couch. He imagined she'd readily welcome him into her house, wanting to know everything about his visit. He'd sit down next to her and talk about Henry and how similar and different to Bae he is, how he felt the child seemed eager to have a relationship with him. He imagined himself curling up next to Belle, with her hands softly petting his hair as he told her of his future plans, maybe bring up the idea of Henry meeting her-

The deer came out of nowhere. It dashed onto the road blindly, clearly spooked by some predator or strange noise. He turned the steering wheel sharply, managing to dodge the animal at the last second but lose control of the car as the wheels slipped on the wet pavement. The Cadillac veered off the road, directly crashing against a nearby tree. Royce barely felt the impact, as it happened very quickly, and after the initial shock there was an odd calm, a persistent ringing in his ears and a wet sensation around his chest as his undershirt became stained with blood, warm and copper-smelling. His arms felt too heavy to move, even as he tried desperately to do so, to reach into the right pocked of his jacket for his cell-phone.

He'd spent years waiting for death, too cowardly to actually kill himself, too weak to find a way to get through his grief and find the way to move on, and when that had changed, when he'd stopped waiting for the end to come and now he surprised himself by clinging to life with all his remaining energy.

His relief at feeling his fingers close around the cool surface of his cell phone vanished as he lost his grip on the device. He thought of his son, his Bae, and wondered if he had died on impact or if he'd languished alone in the wreckage of his car like he was, contemplating all the missed opportunities and the wasted time. Maybe he'd spared a thought for Royce's birthday and that phone call he'd planned to make. It didn't escape his notice, even as the blood loss made it increasingly difficult to focus his mind, what irony it was that, just as Neal had died after resolving to mend the rift, he'd die after realizing he'd a second chance at a family. A part of him wanted to tell him it might all be for the better, to die and be reunited with Neal like he'd wanted for years. But the rest of him rejected the idea almost violently, remembering Henry's ear-to-ear grin every time he called him "grandpa" and Belle's cool skin pressing against his as they cuddled together to watch a movie.

As darkness crept at the edges of his vision he thought he heard the faint sound of sirens in the distance and couldn't help the small, insidious surge of hope that overcame him and though he had learned long ago to stamp it out for fear it'd fill him up only to turn to laden disappointment later on. He concentrated on breathing, in and out, through the painful wet feeling that flooded his lungs and the incessant pain located somewhere on his lower left torso.

He'd fought for everything in his life. He'd fight to stay alive too.

Though Belle had known that settle in sleepy Storybrooke wasn't going to be easy the changing of people's attitudes towards her after they'd found out about her condition had still hurt. Though she never wavered in her determination to make a life for herself in the town after the first few months she began to worry. Fear still was thick in the air, the smell of it seeming to follow her around town like a cloud. Royce had been a welcome, invaluable ally, even if he thought he did more harm than good by being around her. He didn't seem to think it a big deal that he wasn't repulsed or frightened by her condition. Nor had he felt the need to ignore it completely, pretend she was just some normal woman he was courting.

Courting... It still gave her a strange mixture of giddiness and dread to think about it. She had lived a mostly lonely life out of necessity. She'd seen her turning as an opportunity to see the world as she'd always wanted. Though travelling was difficult it wasn't impossible and for many years she'd done just that. As the rules of decorum began to relax she allowed herself fleeting relationships with humans, a group of friends for a summer, a dalliance when the mood struck her, but nothing anywhere near lasting. Long acquaintances had been a big no back in the days before the revelation, an impossibility for someone who didn't age or sicken or die.

Even after the revelation she hadn't expected... well, anything. Though she was an optimist by nature and had hoped to at least settle down somewhere small and quiet and attain some form of normalcy, she'd ruled out the idea of getting any close and personal relationships at least for the first few decades after the revelation. Younger generations would be born unburdened with the stigma that current people would hold against her kind. She just had to be patient.

In the end it hadn't quite worked out like that. Small-town small-mindedness proved tougher than she imagined and though she thought she had aimed low, for tolerance if not respect and affection, she hadn't even gotten that much. Most of the town regarded her with a mixture of fear and disgust, making it openly clear that, hadn't it been for the legislation protecting her kind, she would have been ran out of town months ago, if some misguided should wouldn't have tried their hand at staking before that.

She had taken precautions, obviously. She might be rash and a bit too trusting but time had curved her impulsive nature somewhat and had taught her a thing or two about reading people. She'd made sure to read up on the legislation put in place to protect those like her and had made sure to make her living space as secure as possible, both against light during the day and against the possibility of intruders that might wish to do her harm.

Though the people of Storybrooke had done little to make her feel unsafe, they had done as much to feel her welcome. She held hope that some people, like the Lucases or the polite young psychologist, Dr Hopper, might over time overcome their wariness of her. Sheriff Graham, thankfully, was more polite than most and seemed to genuinely hold no fear of her. The same was the case of many of the children who either thought she was "cool" or simply didn't think she was anything to worry about. Many of the parents forbade their kids to even glance her way, but others cautiously allowed them inside the library, especially after a few weeks had passed from the discovery of her undead status and no one had turned up dead.

The Tillman siblings, in particular, where frequent visitors. Their father worked long hours as a mechanic and so wasn't around to help the children with their homework much. Belle was only too glad to have Ava and Nicholas over. Their curiosity was without malice and they were both well-mannered and polite about it. Ava took it one step further and actively researched vampires for a biology project, much to the displeasure of her teacher. Taking into account the amount of work the young girl had put into her presentation about the biological differences between vampires and humans Belle found the C- she got an insult.

Funnily enough though Ava and Nicholas weren't afraid of her they were of Royce. The whole town seemed to be the slightest bit more scared of him than they ever where of her. For her it was impossible to understand. Royce was a vulnerable, lonely man who wrapped himself in a flimsy cover of anger and nastiness. The first thing she'd noticed about him was how tired he looked, almost defeated. Over the years she'd seen a similar look in a handful of people, usually vampires like her, only older. She'd figured out what it meant, that sort of emptiness, that air of someone who is exhausted yet cannot go to sleep. Amongst her kind it was thought of like a sickness, some primal threat no one really spoke about.

Humans called it depression. There were other words for it, more generic and more specific, fancier and simpler. Ennui, melancholy, woe, desesperanza, they were all terribly pretty to be used to refer to something so ugly. People who had it simply seemed to... disconnect. With themselves, with others, with their entire surroundings. They were quietly going through the motions, putting one foot in front of the other but not really registering anything around them. Nothing held their attention, nothing sparked even the barest trace of interest.

Belle had seen old vampires be consumed by it before. It was almost inevitable, once the sickness gripped them, though it had been hard for her to come to terms with it. But when she'd spotted the human male in such a trance she'd rebelled against the idea of doing nothing. Though not young in the eyes of others he was so in hers, still full of possibilities, of chances. Interesting too, once she'd managed to talk to him. Lonely mostly, eager for something to get him out of the hole he was in.

After she'd been outed a vampire she thought he'd slip through her fingers, retreat back where he'd crawled out of out of fear or disgust. In the end he'd surprised her, showing more courage she had expected. She'd known that reaching out to her, tentatively coming into contact with the world again, had required a lot of effort and bravery and so she'd assumed he'd gladly slink back into the safety of his former state when the opportunity to do so presented itself. He hadn't, choosing instead to very publicly make it clear where he stood with her and it was at that precise moment that Belle fell in love with him.

She hadn't expected her feelings to be reciprocated, truly. Though Belle had had some liaisons over the years they had all been brief, fickle things, encounters to satisfy her physical need for contact more than her emotional need for affection. But her very nature had made the notion of falling in love almost an impossibility. She'd wondered how it would be like, how it would manifest itself. She'd thought that, perhaps, falling in love was getting to know a person intimately, inside out, as completely as one knew oneself. But it wasn't like that at all. The more she'd gotten to know Royce the more she realized there were entire aspects of him that were a complete mystery to her. There were entire layers she could only get a glimpse of, when he lowered his guard and allowed her a peek.

He was full of contradictions too. His sharp, prickly exterior was what everyone knew of him, and though that borderline misanthropy wasn't exactly an act, nor was his cruelty, it was also a poor reflection of the whole of him. Beneath the suit and the prickly exterior there was a soft, vulnerable side, a blanket of insecurities and uncertainties and a desperate need for companionship. There were other things too, Belle knew. Family issues he didn't talk about, self-loathing related to his ankle injury, a fear of abandonment and of unworthiness that ran deep but whose origin she wasn't aware of.

Love, she had discovered, was wanting to peel off the layers, one by one, only to find new ones. It was insatiable curiosity, the thrill of a mystery never fully uncovered. It was... frustrating, but not in an unpleasant way. Belle thought she could rather get used to it. But she hadn't really expected her affection to be reciprocated. Her very nature, she imagined, worked against her, though he seemed to be genuinely interested in it and didn't shy away from what made her different from him. After a while she'd begun to tentatively hope, to let herself read between the lines of his awkward, tentative gestures.

The bite had sealed the deal, so to speak. She'd heard of how it could possibly be between people who shared deep feelings, but she hadn't allowed herself to hope that much, to wish for something that seemed so rare. Becoming a vampire had meant giving up touch. She was naturally colder than regular humans so she'd been taught how to avoid being touched without people noticing. And though it had ensured her safety and survival it had also deprived her of something that felt vital to her. But with her secret out she'd carefully sought out physical contact once more and Royce was more than happy to oblige her. Ecstatic, once he got past his shyness, as starved for it as she was, eager always for a brush of skin against skin, however awkward. Even so he had surprised her with his eagerness to offer his blood to her. He'd obviously done his homework and made sure there wasn't any risk to it. Vampires in fiction where often painted as more violent than the reality, unhinged by their thirst. Though it certainly wasn't pretty to starve she would've had to go hungry for longer than that to lose control and usually a vamp that reached that state was too weak to do any real damage.

It had been unexpected, however, to have the bite bring out so much. She'd heard it was rare, something that for most never actually happened, or it did on a much lower scale than what Belle had experienced. Above all what she remembered most was the closeness. She'd never been intimate with anyone, since it implied more than her hidden secret could permit her before the Revelation. Her encounters had always been impersonal, too brief to involve feelings or much emotional response at all. With Royce it was the complete opposite. Physically they hadn't done much- they hadn't even gotten to remove that many articles of clothing at all- but on another level she hadn't been that close to someone ever before. It was like she'd been touched more deeply, and she'd reached out and done the same to him in return.

The bite was what gave her to courage to be bolder, especially in the face of his shyness and apparent wish to almost deny what had happened. And he'd been brave in return, clearly fighting some deeply-ingrained instinct to shy away from her, to protect himself from any possible vulnerabilities. It was new and unsettling for them both and Belle was glad of it. She was also more than a bit proud of the steps Royce was taken to come out of his depression. Dr Hopper seemed to be helping, as was his re-awakened interest in antiques. He'd taken to his new niche market like a duck to water, fascinated by the idea of selling his restored masterpieces to people who had seen them in their original splendour.

But nothing had quite had the impact Henry had. The moment he'd found about his existence he'd seemed to shed years off his person, to become a new man. Suddenly the weight of his past mistakes with his son didn't seem to burden him as much. He was quick to gather information and establish contact with the boy's mother and despite his usual commanding attitude, the way he seemed to go after what he wanted with single-minded purpose, he was surprisingly respectful when he approached Emma Swan. He played by her rules and allowed her to set the pace of things, to be the one in charge. He did point out the positive aspects of him meeting Henry and being involved in his life but was considerate enough to offer financial help without asking for anything in return.

She was relieved when Emma finally conceded to let him meet his grandson. From what she'd learned of the woman she didn't seem the type to trust easy or to let other people in at all, so it was clear that the woman was making an effort in order to do what was best for her child. She had reluctantly parted from him with the hope that things would work out and all the phone calls she'd received from him seemed to indicate they had, or at least that things had evolved as well as could be expected.

She caught herself checking the time, gazing out the window more often than what was necessary, unable to sit still and the whole situation struck her as extraordinary. She was firmly settled down in a quaint little town, eagerly waiting for the return of her beloved- they hadn't spoken the words yet, but mostly because Royce needed time and she was patient. It was a life she thought she'd never have after she'd been bitten, an adventure in its own way.

When it was time to close she went through the motions without focusing very much in what she was doing. Enough time had passed since she'd come to Storybrooke for such daily tasks to require very little focus. She remembered doing the exact same thing three nights ago when Ava had come running towards hers, looking a bit frantic. It had taken her a few moments once she reached her to be able to get words out, something about her brother playing hide-and-seek with some children in the forest and one of them going missing. Daniel Mills, the adopted son of the mayor, was not allowed anywhere near the library so Belle had only caught glimpses of him from afar. It seemed he was also not allowed to play with the other kids in the forest and his mother had managed to, out sheer force of will and the unethical use of her position as mayor, to assemble some sort of search party.

But not before, apparently, threatening everyone remotely involved in the incident.

"She's gonna take it out on dad cause it was Nicholas who goaded Danny into playing in the first place. Please, Miss Belle, please, you gotta help us."

Ava had no patience for her younger brother but was, at the same time, fiercely protective of him. She considered it her duty to look after him and was wily enough to always manage it. So it hadn't surprised Belle at all that Ava had managed to nick Danny's scarf from his backpack, obviously remembering Belle's enhanced senses and counting on them being strong enough for the task.

It had taken a few tries, once Ava had managed to guide her to the spot Nicholas last remembered seeing Danny, but after a few failed attempts her instincts had taken over and easily picked up the scent amongst the many. They'd found the tiny child- Danny was small for his age- huddled beside a fallen trunk, one leg extended and obviously causing him pain. She'd picked him up gently, despite his clear fear of her person, and watched as Ava distracted him by making him talk, constantly asking questions and downplaying the severity of the incident, since the kid had seemed almost more terrified of the idea of facing his frantic mother than of the vampire carrying him.

She'd encountered Sheriff Graham just outside the woods, looking incredibly relieved once he saw them, and had left Daniel with him, thinking it best that she not cross paths with an overwrought Regina. And the next day, when she'd stopped by Granny's for a cup of tea and a bit of what passed for socialization for her- sitting alone while people stared at her warily- some people had actually made eye-contact with her. Leroy, a local handyman and seeming town crier, had even nodded at her and barked out "Hey, sister" as she passed him by. Granny, who'd never really treated her badly but hadn't warmed up to her either, had actually engaged in small talk with her.

Later that day the library had one of its busiest days. It was as if something had shattered and people no longer seemed to think it absolutely necessary to avoid her at all costs in order to survive. Ava had waltzed in smugly in the afternoon, telling her that Sheriff Graham had made sure to let everyone know that it had been Belle's extraordinary abilities that had allowed Daniel Mills to be located quickly and his injury taken care of without further complications.

"People figure you can't be much of a monster if you go around saving little kids."

Though she'd seemed to downplay it Belle had a suspicion that the girl herself had contributed to the way news seemed to have spread across town.

And later that day, as she'd been closing the library, the mayor herself had wondered in, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else. She'd awkwardly handed Belle what looked like some baked good and, in stilted tones, had thanked her for what she'd done for her son. The whole encounter had lasted little over ten minutes but Belle had known there and then it was a turning point of some sort. Though she didn't think herself completely assimilated into the town she began to have hope that it might actually happen.

She had held off on telling Royce both because she wanted to focus on his own news. Her own little adventure could wait to be told, though she suspected Royce would make a comment about regretting missing Mayor Mills and her apology apple turnover, which he would have enjoyed polishing off only to later comment off-handed to Regina that it had been "a bit dry, dearie".

She thought about buying a couple of slices of cake to have ready in case Gold would stop by her apartment instead of doing the sensible thing and going straight for his home. She rather hoped he would be eager to see her like she was to see him. When her cell phone rang around 3:30 AM she forced herself not to answer right away, to try and pretend for a second that she hadn't been holding said phone in her hands in case he thought to call.

But it wasn't Royce on the other end of the line, even though her screen had alerted the call came from his cell phone. The voice was male, but unfamiliar, and the lightest bit slurred. A Dr Whale, apparently, from Storybrooke General. It took Belle less than a second to make the connection, and the doctor was still prattling on the phone about how urgent it was that she come by when she arrived at the hospital, barely affected by the run. For once people's gut reaction to give her a wide berth worked in her favour. No one stopped her or even thought of questioning her when she walked right past the reception area, her nose familiar enough with the scent of Royce's blood to be able to pick up the scent from the stench of decay and whatever was used to try and drive it away.

Whale was younger than she had imagined, but he was easy enough to detect, given the slight slur to his voice that, up close and personal, Belle knew came from some flask he kept on his person. He recoiled when he saw her but seemed to recollect himself after a few seconds, allowing her to get closer without stepping back.

"Miss French, I'm glad you're here. There's been an accident."

Belle felt like the first seconds of the explanation took forever. Of course there had been an accident, of course it had involved Royce driving back to Storybrooke. She'd figured that out on the way there, why wouldn't Whale cut to the more important parts of the explanation? She forced her mind to focus, to listen carefully as the doctor told her about how Mr Gold had struck a tree, likely to avoid a deer or some other animal, about how the paramedics had found him with no pulse but later managed to resuscitate him on the way to the hospital.

"Though he has regained consciousness and is in no pain due to the morphine we're pumping into his system. But despite the fact that we've done all we could the damage is too great. He's bleeding internally and we cannot repair the damage. We've made him as comfortable as it is possible and when we asked him if he wished to have someone by his side he asked that we call you. He's refused sedation specifically because he wished to talk to you."

It seemed incongruent to live in a time where mass-produced artificial blood was a reality yet doctors in a fully-equipped hospital could only stand-by and watch someone bleed to death internally without the ability to do anything. When Whale led her to Royce's room she couldn't really see anything wrong with him. There were some scrapes, to be sure, and she could smell fresh blood from a bandaged wound on his chest, but other than that he looked almost normal, like he was simply tired instead of dying. He had his eyes closed when they came in, but when the doctor left them alone, closing the door behind him, he opened them.

"Sweetheart..."

He'd called her that a handful of times, usually when his guard was down and he wasn't over-analysing every little thing he said. It was a particular favourite of Belle's and made her feel a tug inside even as she took in the machines all around him and the weak sound of his voice. With strength she didn't really have she walked towards the chair someone had put next to Royce's bed and let herself fall on it. Steadying herself- she needed to be strong, needed to be brave- she took one of Royce's hands in both of hers, pressing softly, just enough for him to feel it, to be reassuring.

"I'm here. I'm here, don't fret."

She stroked his hair, pretending she didn't feel the dried blood on it. He seemed to want to say something but had no idea what, his mouth opening and closing but no words coming out. He looked lost, vitally aware that he had precious little time left but no clue as to what to say.

"Tell me about Henry. I want to hear all."

She didn't, not really. She wanted to talk about them, wanted to see if it was possible to condense what they could have had for years in whatever minutes or hours she had left with him. Wanted to tell him about the hopes she'd begun to let grow about them, things that had felt too soon to share. But it would not give him peace, wouldn't make him happy.

Royce seemed glad to have a topic of conversation to fall on and he told her everything about Henry. Most of it she'd already heard over the phone but she pretended not to. To her it was almost unreal how much love a person could have for someone they'd just met but there was no doubt about Royce's feelings for his grandson. She tried not to hear the beeping of his heart monitor nearby, or smell the antiseptic all over him, making her nose twitch every now and then, too pungent for her enhanced senses.

She focused hard on what he was saying. In the way his eyes lit up when he mentioned Henry liked toy cars much like the ones he'd bought Bae as a child, or the way the wee lad had hugged him good bye when they'd parted ways, calling him grandpa and telling him he couldn't wait for him to come back. He was in the middle or telling her about how he'd promised to teach Henry chess when he suddenly paused, and started shaking. Blind, corrosive panic took over the happy glint in his eyes and his hand shot out, squeezing her arm with unusual force.

"I... I can't die. I have to teach Henry how to play chess. I promised..." Fear was stealing his breath away, making it hard to talk. "I can't break another promise, I can't, I..."

A revelation of sorts seemed to grip him for a moment. He moved his hand to cover his mouth, trying to contain a sob.

"I don't want to die."

He was crying by then, trying not to choke.

"It's not fair. I don't' want to die, I don't. I want to stay. I want to teach Henry how to play chess and be there for him the way Bae would've. I wanna be there to protect him, to see him grow old. I wanna stay. I wasted... so much time. In a pit, unable to get out. And now that I did I want to live."

He seemed to oscillate between anger, sheer stupefaction at the unfairness of it all and deep, heart-wrenching grief. And though Belle tried hard not to, thinking it would be forcing her own wishes into him, she found herself reminding him that he didn't have to stay dead.

"If you really want to stay forever, there's a way."

As gently as she could she guided his right hand towards her chest, pressing the palm against her cold skin, reminding him there was no heartbeat beneath.

"I've never thought I'd ever even contemplate turning someone, because if I ever did then I'd take it seriously. It would connect me with someone else forever, I'd feel tied to that person and there wasn't anyone that had ever made me want that. But I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about offering to turn you."

She couldn't quite meet his eyes, fearing there would be disgust and rejection in them.

"I was going to wait, of course. But it was something that I dared hope."

Since she still refused to take her eyes off their clasped hands he squeezed them to get her attention. Far from recoiling he was looking at her with something akin to awe. He was stripped of every shred of subterfuge, as bare as he'd ever been with anyone, but far from being afraid he felt... safe. He hadn't felt that way since he was a wee lad, cradled in the hands of his mother, of whom he remembered little now. He struggled to concentrate, now that there seemed to be a decision to make. Belle had given him power at his weakest moment and he needed his wits about to exercise it.

He thought about dying first. After all it was something he'd contemplated often enough in the past. He believed there was something that came after death, some place or state of being where he could be reunited with Bae, like he'd wanted for years. But as he'd realized hours before, trapped in his dilapidated car, begging to whoever would hear him to let him stay, things had changed. He thought about Belle's offer next. Immortality would've seemed like a curse months before, a never-ending series of drawn-out, lonely days. Days in which he went through the motions as if he was swimming in molasses and going to the shop or even eating breakfast required inordinate amounts of energy.

But now he could see another sort of forever. He'd live with Belle, learn from her how to adapt to his new body and its new needs. He had no doubt that she would be a diligent sire, nurturing and protective to give him everything her own second birth had lacked. Henry, surely, would think it amazingly cool to have a vampire grandfather and Miss Swan, he was sure, wouldn't shun him for it, genuinely as she had seem in her acceptance of the undead. He'd get to watch his grandson grow up, go to college and even start a family. And die while he lived on. But maybe, it there were sons or daughters, he could look after those, and later on after their own children. A family guardian of sorts, being there for Bae's descendants the way he hadn't been for Bae himself during the last years of his life. And Belle would be by his side, his own family. They would chase each other's loneliness away, because he knew Belle needed companionship as much as he did. He'd love her fiercely, though it would take every ounce of courage he had not to doubt she loved him in return. And over time he would become that man, the brave sort of man she deserved.

He wanted that. Desperately.

"I want that. I want..." Blood pooling in his lungs made it difficult to breathe in a second. The heart monitor's rhythm changed, and he knew it meant he was running out of time. "I want forever. With you. Please."

She nodded, stroking his hair again, smiling through her tears.

"Then you just have to let go. I know it's scary, but you have to. Let go, I promise everything will be fine."

He gripped her hand tighter at that, the mere idea of just letting go scaring him senseless. He hadn't imagined the process would require a leap of faith, those he was incredibly bad at, the ones that made him fall back while other people moved on with their lives. His gut reaction was to deny her, to cling to the last shred of his life even as it faded from his body. But it had been precisely that attitude that had cost him his son, and it was unfair to ask Belle to take a risk, to waste her one chance at turning someone in him, without risking something in return. And though it felt completely unnatural he willed his body to relax, to stop fighting for breath. Instead he focused on Belle's hand stroking his hair, and the heaviness of his limbs. He closed his eyes and let the fuzziness steal over his mind until he drifted off, unable to hear the heart monitor as it flat lined.

Belle was quick to unplug the machine, letting herself pause to stare at Royce's face only for a moment. It was free of worry lines, peaceful. She took a deep, unnecessary breath and tried to recall the turning process as it had been explained to her long ago. With less finesse that she usually displayed she let her fangs tear into her wrist, gently opening her sweetheart's lips so her thick, sluggish blood trickled into his mouth. She then tilted his head to the side, baring his neck. She could see faint, silvery scars where she'd dug her fangs before and on an impulse she bit on the exact same spot. His body was supposed to react, even dead, to both the presence of her blood in him and the pull of her fangs. She was supposed to guide him, to drink from him so he'd drink from her, almost by instinct alone.

Nothing happened at first, and her chest grew tight with panic. She'd never seen an actual turning, though Lady Amhurst had explained to her the process and she'd read extensively on it once she'd begun to contemplate the possibility of turning Royce. She hadn't thought it would be that soon, or under such dire circumstances, but she'd thought to prepare herself anyway.

After what seemed like hours but it was probably close to a minute or so she began to feel a pull on her wrist, and a moment later Royce's hands clamped vice-like on her arm, his mouth greedily latching onto her open wound. Relief flooded her system, almost making her pull back so she could see him drinking. It felt funny, in a good way, to feel her blood hit his system. Sensing his panic, the way he gulped down her blood in a hurry, she hummed low in her throat, the vibrations soothing. After a while he seemed to calm down falling into a rhythm, letting her take a pull of his blood before he did the same. It was, hands down, the most intimate moment in Belle's life and she wished she could stretch it out indefinitely. But after a while, when she felt like there was enough of his blood in him that she'd risk drawing it back out if she kept drinking, she pulled away, delicately licking the wound. When she turned around she watched him follow her example, thorough in the way he cleaned her skin, her own puncture marks easily healed. His eyes remained closed, his chest failing to rise and fall as she was used to and after a while his arms dropped to his sides and he appeared dead again. But her nose and her eyes told her different. There was a sheen to his skin beneath the pallor of death, and his body hummed with energy, in the early stages of the transformation.

She calmly took her cell phone and called Royce's all-around helper, Mr Dove, arranging to a car to pick them up. Whale didn't seem surprise when she told him of what she'd done, asking him to report it to the necessary authorities. There was little fuss made when she signed him out, the people at the hospital clearly eager to see them both off the premises. Royce didn't so much as steer during the brief car ride home, nor when Dove carried him upstairs to his room. He'd need a familiar setting when he woke up, and was relieved when her silent helper confided that Mr Gold had apparently had the house light-proofed, which didn't surprise her much.

By the time she'd finished making sure Royce was comfortably laid on his bed- she'd made sure to change his clothing, unwilling to let him wake up in the bloodied, half-cut suit he'd never quite gotten out of at the hospital-the sun was rising and she was more tired than she'd been in years. Blood loss had barely registered when she'd offered her wrist to her beloved, but now it pulled at her body, making her movements sluggish and uncoordinated. She let herself fall on an armchair near Royce's bed, and though she struggled to keep awake she failed, falling into a deep sleep sometime after ten.

Around eight hours later, while her body still struggled to recuperate, Royce Gold opened his eyes to a new world.

A/N: I always meant to end the fic here, though I realize there's a ton of potential in fics exploring Gold adapting to his new nature. I plan on doing with him the same I want to do with Imp!Belle from Forgotten Lore: explore them in TMI Tuesdays and promptathons in tumblr, possibly one to celebrate the 300 posting of The Thing, which is bound to happen soon. I promise this is not the end! Just make sure you save your questions for vamp!Gold for when the time comes.