Hello and welcome to my first foray into fan fiction. This is based on the Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan film Sleepless in Seattle, with Rumple and Belle replacing Sam and Annie/Hanks and Ryan. This is a modern-day setting with no magic and no curse, so that obviously makes it AU. I've used elements of the film and Once and tried to make it all fit with Rumple and Belle's characters.

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time: it belongs to Adam Horowitz and Eddy Kitsis, and ABC and Disney; nor do I own Sleepless in Seattle, which is the property of Columbia TriStar. No money is being made from this story: it is purely for fun.

And onto the story - hope you enjoy :)

Sleepless in Storybrooke

Chapter one

'Have a good holiday, Ruby: I'll see you on the twenty-seventh.' Belle hugged her friend just before she set off for her father's for Christmas.

'Merry Christmas, sweetie,' Ruby murmured, hugging her tight.

'Merry Christmas,' Belle returned, smiling brightly as they separated.

'I hope your dad doesn't mention Greg this time.'

Belle's smile faltered. 'Me too.'

Ruby grinned. 'Just tell him you met some big shot doctor or lawyer or something: that'll make him happy.'

Belle laughed. 'I love you, Ruby.'

'Love you too, Belle: drive safe.'

The friends parted and Belle began the four-hour drive to New York.

As she settled into the drive, she thought again about what her friend had said. Greg Gaston had been her boyfriend for less than a year. She'd broken up with him because although he'd seemed sweet at first, she soon found out that he was insensitive, an idiot, boring, and full of himself. She also wasn't at all attracted to him, though he was handsome in the conventional sense: tall, chiselled features, and broad-shouldered. He was many women's ideal man, but not hers. She couldn't talk to him about anything she was interested in, and that was a complete deal breaker for her.

Her dad had liked him: probably because Greg was always on his best behaviour around him, and he thought Belle should try again with Greg. She knew he just wanted to be sure she was taken care of: he was old fashioned like that, and she would like to be with someone for herself too, but not Greg. She hoped the subject wouldn't cause tension between them on this visit: it had happened before.

She turned on the radio to distract her and instead of the cheery Christmas music she expected, she heard a boy's voice.

'Bailey, but you can call me Bae.'

'Bae: alright. You sound a little younger than our usual callers, Bae: mind if I ask how old you are?'

'I'm thirteen.'

'Ok, so what's your wish this Christmas Eve, Bae?'

Belle recognised the man's voice: it belonged to a psychologist and radio host, Dr Archie Hopper. She'd obviously tuned in to his weekly show Conscience Call, where he tried to help people with their problems. She didn't listen to him often herself, but Ruby liked the show and Belle had found that he was a good listener and gave good, practical advice. Obviously, this being Christmas Eve, he'd shifted focus a bit to wishes instead of problems and she wondered what this boy, Bae, would wish for.

'It's not for me, really,' the boy said: 'it's for my father. I wish he could find someone to make him happy.'

'Aw,' Belle said aloud.

'He doesn't have anyone in his life now?' Hopper asked.

'No, he just works and takes care of me.'

'May I ask about your mother, Bae?'

'She left us,' the boy said, and, from his tone, it was easy to tell it was a sore subject. 'I was six,' he added: 'we haven't seen her since.'

'I see,' Hopper replied, his voice soothing. 'You must love your father very much.'

'Yeah,' Bae replied, shyly, but with a conviction that made Belle smile. 'I just want him to find someone to make him happy, so that he doesn't have to be lonely, and…'

'And?' Hopper prompted.

'And…maybe…so he wouldn't work so much.'

'I see.'

'I know he does it for me, but I kinda think he also does it not to feel so lonely.'

'You know, Bae, I think you're a very smart young man. Have you said any of this to your father?'

'No.'

'Ok, so where is your dad now? Is he there?'

'Yeah, he's working.'

Belle shook her head sadly. Working on Christmas Eve: poor kid: poor man.

'Alright, well, why don't you let me talk to him?' Hopper suggested.

'I'm not sure he'd like that,' Belle said, knowing she wouldn't take kindly to being thrust into a live broadcast, especially to talk about such a personal subject.

'No way: he'll kill me!' Bae protested.

'Bae, I think it would be good for you both,' Hopper said. 'Once he knows how you feel, he'll understand.'

'Well…alright, but if he yells at me, it's your fault.'

Hopper laughed softly. 'I understand.'

There was silence for a moment and then Bae spoke again. 'Papa, there's a phone call for you.'

They all waited and then it became apparent that Bae's father had picked up. A deep Scottish brogue called an uncertain hello.

'His name's Tristan,' Bae supplied.

'Tristan?'

'Yes?' the Scot returned.

'My name is Dr Archie Hopper. I'm the host of Conscience Call on Radio FTL in Boston. Your son Bailey called my show: he's very concerned that you're unhappy.'

'I'm sorry, what is this?' Tristan asked, confused. A radio station?

'I understand that this must be a little overwhelming for you, Tristan, but your son called my show because he's concerned about you. We both just want to help.'

'You called a radio station?' Belle guessed this was addressed to Bae.

'Please, Papa, just talk to him: he's a doctor.'

Tristan looked at his son, who was still standing in the doorway clutching the phone from the hall. No matter the circumstances, he just couldn't be angry with his boy.

'You couldn't have talked to me without all this, I suppose?'

'I'm sorry, Papa.'

'I suspect that Bae didn't know how to talk to you about his concerns,' Hopper interjected: 'why don't the three of us try to work it out together?'

Tristan looked at his son, who looked nervous about being scolded and his heart softened further. He didn't answer for a long moment, though, and Hopper prompted him again.

'Tristan, it's his Christmas wish,' he said quietly.

Tristan sighed. 'Come in here, Bae, I'm not going through this alone.'

'Thank you, Tristan,' Hopper said. 'Now, Bae, why don't you try to tell your father about your wish?'

'My wish is for you to meet someone, so you can be happy,' Bae said, 'and so you won't be lonely any more, and so maybe you won't work so much.'

There was a long silence and Belle held her breath, trying to imagine how the man must be feeling hearing that coming from his son. It was so clear to her from those words how much that boy loved his father. He was doing a wonderful job of raising him alone from what she'd heard so far.

'Ah, Bae,' Tristan said, voice wavering: 'you know I work to provide for you.'

'I have everything that I could ever need right now,' Bae returned, 'except that I don't have you around as much as I'd like and except that I know you're lonely.'

'Bae, I…' But Tristan didn't know how to finish that sentence.

'Tristan, may I ask you, have you been in a relationship since your marriage ended?'

Tristan sighed and Belle thought she understood the feeling. 'There was a brief…relationship about six months afterwards,' he said, not really sure that what he'd had with Cora really counted as a relationship. 'It didn't last long and there hasn't been anyone since.'

'And why do you think that is?' Hopper asked.

'It's easier not to get hurt if you don't put your heart out there.'

'You have a point,' Hopper conceded, 'but do you think perhaps that has other consequences?'

'Nothing I can't live with,' Tristan returned.

'Alright, well, answer me this, then: are you sleeping at night?'

'He hardly sleeps at all,' Bae supplied.

'How do you know that?' his father asked.

'I live here, Papa.'

Belle smiled at their interaction, but she was also sad for the man who was afraid to risk his heart but couldn't sleep at night for the loneliness: it was no way to live.

'Tell me, Tristan, do you think you might ever be open to taking a chance on love?'

'To tell you the truth, Dr Hopper, I'm not sure that's in my future.'

'Why do you say that?'

'I'm a difficult man to love.'

Belle gasped. The admission had come so easily, but why would anyone believe such a thing about himself?

'What makes you say that?' Hopper asked.

'Perhaps you should ask my ex-wife,' Tristan said drily.

'I'm asking you,' Hopper pressed: 'why do you think you're difficult to love?'

'I can be moody, sarcastic, pigheaded, I probably work more than would be healthy for a relationship to work. I…' but he paused, not wanting to mention his leg, and Hopper moved on, thankfully.

'You said you work to provide for your son, but is there another reason?'

'Perhaps it helps me forget,' Tristan said quietly.

Belle felt tears trickling down her cheeks at the sadness in his voice.

'Your wife leaving must have hurt you very much,' Hopper said, sounding moved.

'Actually, it wasn't unexpected,' Tristan said, resigned: 'she wasn't happy and she found someone else. Like I said, I'm a difficult man to love: perhaps that also means it's difficult for me to love.'

'Your honesty is very refreshing, Tristan,' Hopper said, 'and if you don't mind, I'd like to go into what you've said in a little more detail: would that be alright?'

'Aye, I suppose it can't hurt.'

'Good, well, folks, stay tuned for more after these messages.'

Belle took that opportunity to stop and grab a cup of tea and a snack for the road. When she turned the radio back on, Hopper was talking again.

'You said it's difficult for you to love, Tristan, but it's very clear to me that you love your son.'

'A parent's love for their child comes by nature, though, doesn't it?'

'Does it?' Hopper asked, clearly sceptical: so was Belle.

'No,' Bae said quietly.

'Why do you say that, Bae?' Hopper asked.

'My mother: if she really loved me, she wouldn't have left me, would she?'

'Ah, Bae, that was my fault, not yours,' Tristan said.

'Actually, I think it was hers,' Belle said, annoyed. 'What kind of parent leaves their child without a second thought? Leaving the marriage doesn't have to mean leaving your child!'

Hopper was talking again as Belle finished her rant.

'…love for your son proves you have a great capacity to love.'

'Well…'

'And it takes two to make a marriage fail. I don't like to use the words fault or blame, but let's say that you both wanted different things that you couldn't achieve together.'

Belle was nodding, but Tristan was silent, thinking.

'Tristan, are you still there?' Hopper asked quietly.

'Yeah, yeah, I'm here.'

'Can you tell me what you're thinking?'

'I'm thinking that the reason we grew apart was probably because we didn't really love each other to start with, not the way a couple in love really should.'

'And how's that?'

'I think it's probably different for everyone.'

'Well, how is it for you?'

Tristan sighed: how on earth did he end up baring his soul on live radio?

'I suppose love for me is knowing everything about each other, especially the bad things, and accepting it. It's seeing into someone's heart and soul, seeing past all the walls they put up to the real person underneath. Love is…'

'A mystery to be uncovered,' Belle whispered, and suddenly realised that Tristan had said exactly the same thing. She caught her breath in surprise: this stranger felt the same way about love as she did! How many times in life did that happen? She was willing to bet not many.

Love for her was just that: a mystery, a puzzle to solve, to get to the truth about someone. The real test of love was knowing everything and still loving: if you could do that, you were as close to true love as you were ever going to get.

'For someone who doesn't believe he can be loved, you speak very eloquently about the subject, if you don't mind me saying,' Hopper observed.

'Well, just because I've never experienced that kind of love myself doesn't mean I can't recognise it when I see it.' He knew well enough the kind of love David and Mary Margaret had: the once in a lifetime kind of love that not everyone was lucky enough to feel. Unfortunately for him, Tristan didn't think he would ever be one of the lucky ones.

'Tristan, can I give you some advice?' Dr Hopper asked.

'By all means, Dr Hopper.' It couldn't hurt, after all.

'Don't give up on the idea of finding a love like that. You're far more likely to find that special kind of love if you know it exists. Perhaps you just need to trust your heart.'

'I'll…keep that in mind: thank you. Merry Christmas, Dr Hopper.'

'And Merry Christmas to you, Sleepless in Storybrooke: I hope you'll call us again and let us know how you're doing.'

Feeling strangely more liberated, at peace, and lighter than he had in a long time – perhaps because he'd finally spoken the truth as it was for him – Tristan smiled. 'You can count on it,' he promised. Then the producer was thanking him and he had hung the phone up.

He sent Bae to bed before putting his work away and going off to bed to try to get some sleep himself. All the while, a young woman was driving to see her father for Christmas, wondering about the mysterious stranger who spoke so eloquently about love and sounded as though he knew her very soul.

To be continued

Well, there you have it: chapter one. I hope you enjoyed it.

Regarding Rumple/Gold's first name: Obviously the writers haven't given him a first name or haven't yet told us what it is, so we fan fiction writers have to make one up. I've read stories where Gold's first name is Nick, presumably after Robert's Stargate character, Robert/Bobby after the wonderful Mr Carlyle himself, or Rumford, as a variation on Rumplestiltskin, but I chose Tristan because I like the name, I think it suits the character, and because it sounds suitably Gallic.

Anyway, comments/observations are very welcome. Chapter two will be uploaded on Sunday.

Thanks for reading :)

Kate