Author's Note: My obsession with Once Upon a Time (specifically Rumplestiltskin and Belle) has been growing and prompted me to publish my first non-Harry Potter fic ever. I've seen very few that take place in Storybrooke before Emma arrives (and before Mr. Gold/Rumplestiltskin gets his memories back) so I ended up writing one of my own. It's slightly AU in that I changed around the timeline of things that took place in the Skin Deep episode. Mostly everything else will be canon-compliant. Please let me know what you think!

To Which Fate Binds: Chapter 1

The moment the phone rang, Belle knew that she would be receiving bad news. She rolled over in bed, reaching for her cell phone. The time read 11:27 pm. "Hello?" she said softly.

"Belle?" her father said. She breathed a sigh of relief at hearing his voice. Her dad was the person in town that she cared about the most; since he was speaking to her, he was at least safe, no matter what news he brought her.

"Dad? What's wrong?" She sat up, and braced herself.

"Belle, I'm in jail. The sheriff locked me up for stealing."

Belle gasped. "You're in jail? What happened?"

"I broke into Mr. Gold's store. And I destroyed a few things..." Her heartbeat quickened and she felt like she was going to be sick. Why, why, why?

"Dad, I'll be there in a few minutes."

Belle hung up, and took a few deep breaths. Then she threw on a pair of jeans, a sweater, and tennis shoes.

She rushed outside, and was quickly greeted by a chill in the air. Belle shivered but didn't want to waste time by going back for a coat.

In hindsight, Belle should probably not have been so surprised about her father's arrest. He had been upset when Mr. Gold had seized his truck a few days earlier and had been muttering about revenge and getting justice for the past few days. She had known her father was angry—could she have prevented his crime? It was hard not to feel guilty.

It took less than ten minutes for her to reach the police station. She walked in, completely out of breath. "Hi Graham," she said. She imagined that her acquaintanceship with the sheriff would now become extremely awkward due to him arresting her father. However, she was grateful that he was at least allowing her to see her dad—it was nearly midnight and she imagined that Graham would probably like to go home at some point.

"Belle." He nodded towards the cell behind him. Her eyes fell on her father, who sat on the bed, eyes downcast. "Dad…" She rushed over to the cell. "Dad, what happened?"

Moe French was silent for a moment. Then he turned his face towards her. His eyes had a wild look in them. "I was gonna pay the bastard back—I just needed one more day. It was Valentine's Day for goodness sake. Why couldn't he give me another day?"

"So you stole from him?" Belle tried to keep her voice low. Even though she was furious at her father for making such a poor decision; she knew from experience that her father responded very poorly to condemnation and raised voices. Still, she wanted to scream and yell, demanding to know what he had been thinking to do something so reckless.

"I didn't think I'd get caught—the mayor even said he would have no idea that it was me."

"Regina Mills suggested you steal from Mr. Gold?"

"Well, not in so many words, but she definitely insinuated it that he had it coming…"

"Why would she suggest such a thing?"

He didn't answer.

"Oh, Dad…" She sighed. "What are they planning to do with you?"

"The sheriff said that I could get five to ten years in prison."

Belle gasped. When she had gotten the call, she had realized that some jail time might be involved, but not that much! Tears were threatening to form in her eyes, but she refused to allow them to surface. Sitting in the police station crying certainly wouldn't help; she needed to be strong. She took a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions in check.

"How much damage did you do, Dad?"

"I broke two windows, a door, a glass cabinet, and some other objects in the store, which will probably be several thousand dollars in damage. And I stole more than fifteen thousand dollars' worth of items from him..."

Fifteen thousand dollars? How could he do such a thing?

"Belle, you have to find me a good lawyer. I can't go to prison. I don't think my heart can take it."

Belle sighed. Her father had been having health problems recently and a stint in jail would definitely make things worse.

She thought back to her time in the psychiatric ward of Storybrooke Hospital—to the seemingly endless years of closed doors and little sunlight. She had constantly felt like she was suffocating. She never knew the day, time, or when her next meal would come, or if she would ever leave. She had lived in fear and uncertainty until the day her father had signed her release papers. He told her that she had been there for four years, and that it had taken that long for her to be cured of her hallucinations and delusions. Visions and dreams of living in a dark castle with a man whose face she could never see had constantly haunted her.

She hadn't had a vision in many years.

Her father had been the one to release her, to let her out of darkness. Now she would do the same for him.

However, many questions ran through her mind. Where would she get the money for a lawyer? Who could she even get to be willing to go up against Mr. Gold? So many people in town were frightened of Mr. Gold and she didn't want her lawyer to be one of the many people in town afraid of incurring his wrath. There were so few who weren't scared of him. The mayor, Regina Mills, and her close knit band of advisers weren't. Belle herself had never found him particularly scary, but then again, she had never had a run-in with him. Sure, the apartment she shared with Mary Margaret Blanchard was owned by him, but neither she nor Mary Margaret had ever had any problem getting him their rent and had therefore stayed under his radar.

"I'll figure something out, Dad. Try to get some sleep."

"I love you, Belle," he said, tears beginning to form in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He looked truly pitiful and her heart nearly broke for him.

"I love you too, Dad. I'll do what I can to get you out of here."

She spent a few minutes talking to Graham about bail, trials, and other things she needed to know, then thanked him and left.

"Belle, what's wrong? Why are you back so late?" a yawning Mary Margaret asked from the doorway of her bedroom as Belle walked into their apartment.

In her job as the Storybrooke Elementary School librarian, Belle had met and been befriended by Mary Margaret, who had offered her the spare room in her apartment. At the time, Belle had been relieved to put distance between her father and herself. Now she wondered if she could have prevented her father from trying to take revenge had she stayed at his house.

"Dad's in jail. He stole from Mr. Gold and vandalized his shop. Do you know of any good lawyers?"

"Belle, I'm so sorry!" Mary Margaret rushed over gave Belle a hug. "No, I don't know of any lawyers, but is there anything else I can do?"

"May I borrow your laptop? I want to see if I can find someone."

"Sure," Mary Margaret said. "Can you think of anything else I can do to help?"

"No, but thanks for asking," Belle told her. "Go back to bed."

Mary Margaret gave her another hug. "I wish I could do more to help. Wake me if you need anything." She left the room.

Belle's online search found a total of three lawyers in Storybrooke: District Attorney Spencer (who was definitely out), Mrs. Jane Anderson, and Mr. Adrian Gold. The fact that Mr. Gold was an attorney didn't surprise Belle at all; the man seemed to have his hand in everything. Belle wrote down the phone number for Jane Anderson's office, planning to call in the morning. She closed the laptop and went back to bed where she spent most of the night tossing and turning, trying to figure out what to do. There was no easy solution.

Belle had never used a personal or sick day at her job, so the school was fine with letting her take the morning off. She called Jane Anderson's secretary, and got an appointment almost immediately, and was (thankfully) told that her initial consultation was free.

The lawyer's office was in a colonial style building on the main road, only a few blocks from her apartment. The secretary showed her into a room with a massive desk and chair that was occupied by a severely dressed woman in her fifties. "Mrs. Anderson? I'm Belle French."

"Miss French, how nice to meet you. Please sit down. What can I help you with today?"

"I'm looking for legal representation for my father. He's in jail for theft."

Mrs. Anderson raised her eyebrows. "Before you say anything more, Miss French, I need to ask you an important question: is your father the man who stole from Mr. Gold?"

"Yes, he is. How did you know about that?" Belle asked worriedly.

"Mr. Gold is one of my clients. He contacted me last night about a burglary in his store." A lump formed in Belle's throat. There was no way that this woman could represent them. In fact, she would probably report back to Gold about Belle showing up here. Belle was grateful that Mrs. Anderson had stopped her before she said too much.

"Do you know of any other attorneys in Storybrooke?"

"Miss French, you will most likely have to find someone from out of town. Unfortunately, lawyers in bigger cities tend to charge more money. For a case like yours, you'll need to make sure you can afford to pay several thousand dollars."

Belle nodded, trying to keep her face neutral. She certainly didn't have thousands of dollars lying around. She could barely afford to make ends meet as it was.

"Your other option, Miss French, is to try to talk to Mr. Gold himself. He's a fairly reasonable man despite the rumors that suggest otherwise."

"Do you think he would dismiss the charges?" Belle asked hopefully.

Anderson laughed, likely thinking Belle was the most naïve woman in town. "Not without getting something in return. He very much likes making deals. Might I suggest that you think of what you might be able to offer him?"Belle nodded, the wheels spinning in her head. Making a deal with Mr. Gold had been what had gotten her father involved with him in the first place and forced her into this mess. Was there no other way?

"Good luck, dear," Anderson said, obviously a dismissal.

"Thanks," Belle said softly.

She left and began walking. She and her father had very little—the only thing they really had to offer was the shop… It would be a huge sacrifice, but transferring ownership from her father to Mr. Gold was probably the only way.

When she arrived outside the door, she stopped, trying to plan what she would say to him. Belle couldn't remember ever interacting with him, other than to pass him the rent check. And even that she did rarely. More often than not, he came by when she was out and got the check from Mary Margaret. Belle really only knew about him based on hearsay (mostly from her father). Certainly he couldn't be as bad as people made him out to be.

She took a deep breath and walked into the shop. Mr. Gold, who was dressed impeccably in a suit, stood behind the counter writing something. "We're closed," he said without looking up.

"Mr. Gold?"

He looked up, his eyes slowly meeting hers.

"Mr. Gold, I'm Belle French. I'd like to speak with you about my father."

Gold looked down at the contract he was working on, which now had a large mark of ink in the middle of it—the moment his gaze had fallen on Miss Belle French, the pen had slipped and ruined the page. Thankfully he had always been fairly good at hiding emotion, so she had not noticed how her presence had rattled him.

He was not sure why the sight of Miss French caused him to get flustered. He was not the type to easily fall for a pretty face, no matter how intelligent or well-read she was. But something about this woman always made his heart beat faster every time she was near. He couldn't think of a single other person who had ever had that effect on him.

And she was far out of his league—beautiful, intelligent, and nearly twenty years his junior. His infatuation with her was completely ridiculous. So, he did the same thing that any prudent man in his situation would do.

He avoided her.

Gold had observed and found out Belle French's schedule. He knew that she worked in the library at Storybrooke Elementary School every weekday until noon. Several days a week, she would go to Granny's Diner for lunch, then spend a few hours working at Game of Thorns. On Thursdays, she ate dinner at her father's house after working at Game of Thorns. Gold made a point of avoiding Granny's between twelve and one everyday, and of collecting the rent check from her roommate only on Thursday evenings. He had managed to work around her schedule so that he wouldn't run into her.

Unfortunately, after the arrest of her father, it was inevitable that he would be forced to have some contact with her. Gold ignored his feelings of unease. Although he had been caught off guard when she walked into the store, she was now on his territory and he was determined to be in control.

"Miss French, do come in. What do you have in mind?" he asked, gazing into her eyes and walking towards her in what he thought was a predatory manner. Perhaps if he gave her his meanest gaze, she would go away.

Her eyes stayed on his, her body unflinching.

She wasn't afraid of him. That was new—nearly the entire town feared him.

"I'll do whatever necessary if you don't press charges against my father. In exchange for his freedom, we are willing to turn our family shop over to you. I believe that will more than pay back all of his debts."

Gold thought about the flower shop. Truly this desperate woman probably considered giving up her father's business to be a huge sacrifice. "Interesting idea, Miss French. However, I'm not in the habit of opening my heart to save failing businesses."

Her face fell at his cutting remark, and he knew that his observation, however true, had stung. It was common knowledge in the town that Moe French's mismanagement of Game of Thorns had been running the shop into the ground. Gold knew firsthand how much debt Moe French was truly in over his shop, for he had lent him the money in the first place.

"I have another proposition for you, Miss French. You will work for me." He didn't realize that he had spoken until the words left his mouth. It was as though an outside force had taken control of his tongue and forced him to say something that would surely change his peaceful life completely.

So much for avoiding her. Unfortunately, he had already spoken and couldn't take back his words now. Hopefully she would refuse.

"I need both a housekeeper and additional help in the shop. I'm frequently out on business, so you can take care of customers during those times."He didn't add that he averaged fewer than ten paying customers a week; she would figure out soon enough how few people actually came in to shop.

Most people only came to the store because they wanted something from him.

"My father stole from you; how do you know I can be trusted not to do the same?"

He chuckled. He didn't actually know that, but for some reason he was certain that she wouldn't do anything wrong. Several years earlier, he had contracted a cleaning service for both his home and shop only to have the service shut down after several expensive items had gone missing (thankfully all had been recovered). Since then, he had been forced to do the work himself. He wasn't sure why he expected Belle French to be any different from the people who had stolen from him in the past, but something about her struck him as honest and pure. His instincts were almost never wrong about people.

"Call it intuition, my dear."

"I have another job, so I can't be here at all times."

"You finish at the school around noon each day, right?" She nodded, her eyes big, questioning. Wondering how he knew so much about her. "I make it my business to know as much as possible about everyone in town," he stated in response to her unspoken question. It was partially true, although he certainly knew more about her than he should.

"I'd like you to come here at twelve thirty every day during the week and work until eight in the evening. You'll clean both here and at my house, mind the shop, and cook dinner. On Saturdays, you will work starting at eight. You may have Sundays off."

She nodded. Was she actually amenable to the deal? He had tried many times to find help in the shop; all had failed. "And how long will I need to do this before my father's debts are paid off?"

"Two years."

She was quiet for a few moments. Probably realizing that she would have to waste two years of her life working for the town's biggest villain.

"So, if I work for you, you'll drop all charges and my father's debts to you will be paid off?"

"You have my word. Although don't expect me to lend him money anytime soon."

"Fine. It's a deal." She held out her hand.

Adrenaline rushed through him, as it always did when somebody agreed to a deal. If he ignored the nagging feeling that told him to stay away from her, he would be particularly thrilled. This one was definitely in his favor, and it was a testament to her desperation that she had agreed. He reached his hand towards hers then stopped short of touching her.

"Are you sure, my dear? Some people would say that making a deal with me is akin to making a deal with the Devil himself."

"I don't believe the ridiculous gossip of the people in this town."

He smiled. Of course she didn't. Then he took her hand in his in a handshake.

Heat began coursing through his body at her touch, a sudden wave of longing hitting him. He quickly pulled his hand away. He met her eyes, expecting to see disgust (an emotion people often felt around him) or dread. Her face was flushed. Had she felt something too? Gold quickly brushed it off. He was certainly imagining something that was not there.

"Thank you," she said, "for agreeing to this."

He was surprised at her gratitude—she was going to be doing menial labor for him, after all. He was clearly getting the better end of the deal.

Rarely did people come to him to ask for help for someone else. Few people in Storybrooke would be willing to give up two years of their life to help a loved one. She was probably the only one who would do so in service to the town's most disliked resident.

"I'll draw up paperwork for our deal tonight. Come here tomorrow to sign the contract as soon as you get off work. After you do so, I'll contact the DA to drop the charges against your father. You can start the next day."

Miss French nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow." She turned around and left the shop, the bell of the door jingling behind her. Five minutes after she left, Gold was still staring at the door.