Oxford, 2065

"Mr. Gold!" Belle French, Literature and History student, ran down the hall towards her adviser, "Wait!"

Belle had been at Oxford for four years and was preparing for her thesis on J.R.R. Tolkien, which involved field work. For the historians of Oxford, field work meant time travel. Rumfurde Gold was a seasoned historian, now teacher and adviser, one who had just returned from his sabbatical.

"Belle," he said flushing at the sight of her, then he corrected himself, "Miss French."

"You're back from you sabbatical early!" she said, "I'm glad, now I can say good bye before I leave on my drop!"

"With time travel, Miss French, you can be gone a month and yet only day,"

"Indeed," she smiled, "I can't wait to go, though."

"You'll enjoy yourself, but you can't stay forever," he said, giving her a rare smile, "and I will be waiting here when you return."

Belle was confused by his ambiguity, but took it in stride saying brightly, "And you'll be the first to hear of my research."

"When is your drop scheduled?" He asked.

"It's- oh! In a half hour!" she exclaimed, looking at her watch, "I better get to Wardrobe! Good bye Mr. Gold!"

"Good bye Miss French," he said as she disappeared down the hall.

A half hour later, dressed suitable for the late 1930s, Belle stood at in the lab. Technicians were readying the net, the device used for traveling across time, for her drop to Oxford the year The Hobbit was published.

"Ready Belle?" one of the techs asked.

Belle nodded, "Ready."

The net glowed as it was activated as Belle stepped into the great wide somewhere.

Oxford, 1937

Rumfurde Gold was thoroughly enjoying is sabbatical. It had rained earlier that day, leaving giant puddles in the street, and Gold leaned on his cane, moving out of the way as a automobile sped past, slashing through the previously mentioned puddles.

As he passed, a golden light bloomed in an alleyway and a woman stumbled out, crashing into Gold, she knocked him over.

"I'm so sorry mister!" the woman cried, with a oddly familiar accent.

"Miss French?" he demanded looking up, Belle had landed atop him, knocking the air from his lungs.

"Mr. Gold! What are you doing here?" she asked, helping him up and handing him his cane.

"What are you doing here? You still have research to do!" he snapped, straitening his now soaked jacket, "I am on my sabbatical."

"But you just got back!" Belle cried, "Or, have you still yet to go back to Oxford? Was that future you, Mr. Gold?"

"Keep your voice down," he said, taking her by the arm, "I'm renting a room across the street from The Eagle and Child, where I assume you will be visiting? Let's get dry and speak there."

The hurried up the lane and crossed the street to the inn where they changed into dry clothes.

"Are you sure this is all right, what with me being here?" Belle asked.

"Don't worry, we can make something up if anyone asks," he said waving a hand.

"We could tell them I'm your wife," she replied, "Unless you've already said you aren't married."

"I- we- Miss French! I-" Gold stuttered for a moment, "No, no I have not mentioned a wife at all."

"So I can stay?" Belle bounced in her chair, "I was worried about finding a place to stay, but this place is so close to the pub! There's plenty of room for both of us!"

Gold glanced at the single, twin sized bed on which he sat. Belle was his top student, but it was no secret that she was beautiful. He was fond of her, more than fond of her. He loved how she lit up learning new things, how she'd forget herself and grad his hands in excitement, how he'd find her asleep in the library.

She had to be to be time lagged, that was the only explanation for her want to pretend to be his wife. After a good night's sleep she'd come to her senses and get on with her assignment.

"You should get to bed," he said, "It's just time lag, you'll feel better in the morning."

"That's a good idea," Belle said, and sat down next to him, "Good night."

She got into bed but after laying still a moment glanced up, "Aren't you going to come to bed too?"

Would he regret getting into bed with his time lagged student? Likely. Was he going to pass up an opportunity to hold Belle all night? Of course not.

Belle slept for quite a long time. By the time she woke up, the sun was high in the sky. She snuggled closer to the warm being holding her and hid her face.

"Belle, it's time to wake up," Mr. Gold whispered, touching her hair, "Belle, Miss French?"

Belle jerked awake.

"Mr. Gold?" she pulled away, "oh my, I'm sorry! I was-"

"Time lagged, dearie," he replied, sitting up, "No need to apologize."

Unexpectedly, the door opened and a soft looking woman walked in, arms full of linens.

"Mr. Gold!" she was scandalized, "Women like her are not allowed!"

"Women like her? Like my wife?" Gold snapped, standing.

"Your- ? Oh my, my apologizes Mrs. Gold, Mr. Gold, I'll just-" she backed out quickly, shutting the door. Mr. Gold turned, a bit embarrassed, back to Belle.

"Well," she said, "I see we are going with that plan."

Earlier, Gold had met C.S. Lewis, who had invited him to join the Inklings that evening. Belle was ecstatic to sit in and although the Inklings had never had lady visitors to their club, they were delighted by her and allowed the couple to come.

But it was growing increasingly hard for both Gold and Belle to act the part of a couple in public, then keep their hands off of each other at the inn. Both were sure the other didn't feel the same.

It seemed to both that the bed they were sharing was growing smaller by the day and more often then not, they'd awaken tangled up in each other. It was wonderful and horrible all at once.

They had been attending the Inklings for three weeks when Belle couldn't stand it any more. She slid her foot from her shoe and touched the inside of Gold's leg.

She inched her foot higher, up his leg and back down again. Across the table, his eyes locked with hers.

"Mrs. Gold," he croaked, "May I speak to you privately for a moment."

"Of course Mr. Gold," she replied, dizzy at being caught.

In the pub's bathroom, Gold put a hand on either side of the sink.

"I-" Belle began, but Gold spun on her, pressing her to the wall, kissing her.

He pulled away and stumbled back, "I'm sorry, Belle, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she moved closer to him so they bodies were pressed together, his between her and the wall, "That's all I've ever wanted."

Their mouths met with fierce abandonment. He kissed the curve of her throat as Belle shivered, moaning. Hands, hips, and skin meeting skin. His hands slipped under she skirt as Belle arched against him. But just as she fumbled with his trousers the was a loud pounding on the door.

"I say!" Tolkien called from outside, "That is highly indecent! We can hear you out here!"

"Let them be!" C.S. Lewis said, "Young love at it's finest! If you two want some company-"

"Good heavens Jack!" Tolkien cried.

Belle glanced at the window and whispered, "I bet we could escape out the window."

"Ladies first," he grinned, and the two managed to flee their new-found friends, heading back to their room where they spent the rest of the day and night acquainting themselves with the others body.

It was in the moonlight that Belle broke the spell, "My rendezvous time is 8am tomorrow."

"I don't rendezvous for another month," he said softly, "can't you stay forever, my love?"

"Before I left I saw you, future you, and you told me that I couldn't stay forever, but you'd be waiting when I return."

He kissed her, "We cannot tamper with the future. I know future me is awaiting your return."

They spent the last few hours in each others arms, but morning came to soon, and from the window, Gold was left watching Belle crossed the street and entered disappear into the alley, back to the future and to him.

Oxford 2065

As the light of the net faded, the only person Belle could see was Rumfurde Gold, waiting for her.

"Mr. Gold!" she hugged him tightly.

"Hello, darling," he whispered, "welcome home."