A/N Thanks for all the attention, guys. This puppy has had nearly 10,000 hits and my heart could literally burst with pride! This chapter signals a return to angst, I hope you like it. Hugs and love, ANG

"Has he sent you to collect the rent then?" Moe French asked as he opened the door. His face was shuttered and deliberately blank, his tone flat. It stung, but Belle smiled, pretending the joke wasn't half genuine.

"Hello to you too, Papa," she said, planting a kiss on his forehead. "Are you going to let me in?"

"Would it be too much to hope you were staying for good?" Moe's voice was wistful, but resigned.

"Only for tea, Papa, if you don't mind the company." Belle gestured to the shopping bag she was carrying. "I've brought you something special."

She swept past him as he was still staring at the shopping bag, his expression simply disgruntled. Moe turned with her and kept pace.

"I was getting ready to make myself a cuppa. I'm surprised you still remember my break schedule," he grumbled, following Belle to the kitchen.

"It's only been a week, Dad," Belle chided as she noted the state of the room. The dishes were clean and the bin wasn't overflowing with take-out containers. He was getting along better than she thought.

"It feels much longer, Petal." Moe was silent for a while, watching Belle switch on the electric kettle and assemble the tea things. When he spoke again, his voice was far too even to be natural; he was trying to control his tone. "How is he, Belle? Honestly. He's treating you well?"

Belle's smile was real, but a little cloudy. "We take care of each other, he makes me happy."

"Something's wrong," Moe guessed. "Come on girl, you might as well tell me. It's written all over your face."

"Don't be silly, Papa," Belle replied, pulling a Tupperware container from the shopping bag. She handed it to Moe. "I made these for you."

"Lamingtons!" he exclaimed, prying the lid open. "But my birthday's not until next week."

"About that -" Belle began stirring three teaspoons of sugar into her father's cup. "I thought we could celebrate early this year. I... I brought your present."

"What's going on Belle? We always spend our birthdays together." Moe pushed the chocolate cakes away. "This is him isn't it? The bastard is trying to isolate you."

"That's not true. He needs to go to Boston next week and I need to go with him." Belle weighed and measured her words carefully, not wanting to give anything away. "Believe me, Dad, I wouldn't go if it wasn't important."

"I don't understand, Belle. I don't understand a bit. What hold does he have on you?"

"We've had this conversation before. I love him and I'm going to stay with him, be with him. And he loves me too."

Moe carried on as if she hadn't spoke, "Is he paying you? Blackmailing you? Just a week ago you were working for him, then he fired you, and now you're living together? I need you to explain all this to me, Petal, because none of it makes sense."

"It isn't bribery or blackmail! How could you think that?" Belle tried not to take Moe's words to heart. "That day last week... He was trying to protect me, I think. He thought I would be happier with someone else..."

"He's not a good man, Belle. You should have stayed away."

"No, Dad. I love him and he needs me."

"Gold doesn't need anyone or anything. He's using you! Gods, girl, you're supposed to be smarter than this."

"Papa, he's not a monster. He's just been on his own for too long. He lo-"

Moe cut her off, "That man is the reason you had to leave school. He's done everything in his power to ruin us. He raised our rent three times, he repossessed our van. On Valentine's Day! We lost all that stock. If you hadn't taken out extra school loans and come home we would have lost everything."

"It's in the past, Dad. We always found a way. Besides, he reduced the rent well below the original agreement when I went to work at his shop."

"He knew what he was doing, Belle. He wanted you and he found a way to steal you. Can't you see it?"

"Being with him is my choice. You can't decide who I fall in love with."

"I hate that man. I wish he would just die and leave us in peace!" Moe shouted banging his fist on the kitchen table.

There was utter silence.

"You can't mean that," Belle whispered, stunned.

"I do," Moe continued. "He's a beast. And the world would be a better place if he would drop dead."

Belle had no intention of crying or burdening her father with any painful truths; intent, however, is often meaningless.

0

Anthony hated dusting, but the spinning wheel required special attention. Using a frugal dollop of beeswax and turpentine, he set to work on the wheel and tried to let its creaking spins replace the rampant turning of his thoughts. Belle had been withdrawn since her visit with Moe; she refused to speak of it. Although she really didn't have to, he could almost feel the sting of the estrangement. Anthony Gold hadn't stepped foot in a church in twenty years, yet he found himself praying that his relationship with Belle wouldn't do permanent damage where Moe was concerned. Belle needed Moe in her life, and would need him even more down the road.

The bell on the front door jingled, announcing what was most likely Belle's return from Granny's. "I hope you remembered the extra pickles, sweetheart," he teased as he made his way to the showroom.

"So sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Gold," Regina Mills greeted crisply. "I take it Ms. French isn't in."

"No, she's at the diner," Gold replied. "Are you here for some civic duty Madame Mayor, or do you wish to make a purchase? Either way, it's nearly lunchtime and I find myself disinclined to make any deals at the moment."

"I had hoped to speak with your girl, but since she isn't here I might as well take this opportunity to offer you my deepest sympathy." Regina lowered her voice and leaned in towards Gold. "We've had our differences in the past, but I was truly distressed to hear your news."

"And what news would that be, dearie?" he asked through gritted teeth, wondering who turned his private affairs into gossip. If Regina knew, it was or would be the talk of the town.

Regina ignored him. "I understand that you're consulting some of the best doctors in Boston and I know you well enough to expect that you're putting your affairs in order. But I feel it is my duty to caution you about who you trust-" The door chimed again as Belle entered the shop empty handed and clearly in distress.

"Anthony?" she said. "We need to talk. Everyone..." Belle's voice trailed off when she noticed Regina's presence and the stony expression on Gold's face.

"Ms. French, you are just the person I came here to see," Regina said. "I had meant to have a word with you in private, but I really don't see the point in brushing things under the rug. Your father called me, he's very concerned for you. He thinks you're being taken advantage of." Every word from Regina's mouth dripped with equal amounts of poison and sincerity, the effect was nearly hypnotic.

"As one of Mr. Gold 's oldest acquaintances in Storybrooke, I'm inclined to disagree. I think it's pretty obvious that you're after his money. You might be telling yourself you are helping him, or knowing Gold, you might have a deal in place. Well dear, I think it's my duty to both of you to ask you to consider the ramifications of your actions."

Gold could feel his blood pressure rising with every word that left Regina's mouth. His outrage on his own behalf paled by Belle's reaction the mayor's accusations; her head was bowed and her body trembled. Keeping a deathly grip on his cane, he addressed Regina. "You evil soul. Get out of my shop. In the future I would advise you to stay away from Ms. French and myself. We are two consenting adults and what's between us is our business."

"You're offended," the mayor stated unnecessarily, her voice dripping with her sardonic intention, just subtle enough (if subtlety was in her repertoire) to avoid being called out. "I'm sorry you feel that way, but it is my responsibility-"

"Your only responsibility is to see yourself out," Gold snarled. "And if you darken my doorway again, I won't be responsible for what I might do. Is that clear, dearie?"

"Crystal," Regina replied. "But do think about what I said, Gold. I hate to think of you at the mercy of some scheming little digger, especially when you're at your weakest."

Silence prevailed when the clicking of Regina's stilettos ceased and the bell signaled her exit from the shop. The urge to break something was nearly impossible to resist, but Belle's presence staid Anthony's hand.

"I'm sorry, Anthony. The whole town knows and it's my fault. Please forgive me."

"You told your father about my lymphoma I take it?" Gold asked leading Belle into the back room.

"I- I did. He was saying such awful things and I thought I could make him understand. I didn't mean to betray your trust, I really didn't."

"I know, Belle. I know. Besides, they were bound to find out eventually. Please don't cry."

"Anthony, the things she said. You know I'm not... I would never. You believe me, don't you?"

"Of course I do, love. I trust you." Gold whispered pulling her tight. "I trust you more than anyone."

"Papa doesn't. He thought I was living with you for money. He said- he said he wished you would... And I had to tell him the truth, but when I did he started screaming and ranting. He told me I wasn't welcome in his house." Belle sobbed into his jacket. "I can't understand it. Why would he do that? And now he's told everyone."

Before Gold answer her properly the doorbell rang out again. "Belle, I want you to sit down, I'll take care of whoever it is. We'll talk later. It looks like Regina was only the first ant to the picnic."