#ficlets: candy striper verse

[emospritelet]

KoL! Prompt --- Gold starts to feel better but the storm rages on, leaving them some time alone to, erm, bond.

Last time, Belle had returned to Gold’s house to check up on him, the power went out, and she injured herself.  Gold decided they needed to light a fire to keep warm.

Kiss of Life verse

Belle watched him go, and pushed to her feet, unconsciously rubbing her bandaged wrist.  The candlelight was enough to see by, and so she searched for a dustpan under the sink and swept up the broken china.  The tea had brewed, so she got out fresh cups and saucers and set them on the tray with the teapot and milk jug.  She carried it through to the lounge, setting it on the coffee table.  Gold had lit more candles, dotted on the fireplace and mantelpiece, the room bathed in a warm glow.  He was lighting kindling in the hearth, and she left him to it, going upstairs to fetch blankets.  She brought his cane too, tucked under one arm, the blankets piled on top, still warm from the heat of his body.

When she returned to the lounge, the fire was just starting to crackle to life, and Gold was sitting on the couch, head lolling back against the cushions. She felt a stab of sympathy for him; he had left his warm bed to come and find her and patch her up, and he must be feeling terrible.  He glanced up as she entered, and she shook her head.

“Stay there,” she said firmly, and draped the blankets over him, covering the couch.  He tugged them around himself,shifting position a little.

She poured them each a cup of tea, adding milk and setting the cups on the little table to his side of the couch before lifting one edge of the blankets and getting underneath, wriggling into the seat next to him and pulling the covers up to her chin as she shivered.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.  “Not sure what I could make that doesn’t need heating.  There might be some bread and cheese.”

“There’s cheese,” he said.  “I think there’s fruit.  Some cookies in the cupboard.  Just help yourself to whatever you want.”

“I’ll go now before the house gets too cold,” she said, and slipped out of the covers, trotting to the kitchen.

Searching the fridge yielded three kinds of cheese, some grapes and apples, and some sliced ham.  She sliced the cheese and apples, and laid out the food on a wooden chopping board.  There were the rolls she had bought, too, so she sliced two of those and stacked them on the side.  Tucking a box of choc chip cookies under her arm, she carried the tray through to the lounge. The fire was starting to build, warmth flowing out from it, and she pulled the coffee table closer to the couch and set down the tray and the box of cookies. Gold had picked up his tea, and was watching her, cup in hand.

“At least we won’t starve,” he said.  “We may die of boredom, though.  I don’t think there’s enough light to read by.”

Belle chewed her lip, glancing around.

“Do you have any cards?”

An hour later Belle was warm and snug, seated at one end of the couch with her back against the arm, her knees bent and her feet up on the cushions.  Gold was at the other end, in a similar pose, cushions propping him up.  He had generously offered her a pair of his pyjamas, and she was enjoying the feel of dark blue silk against her skin, the blankets tucked around her waist as the room was heated by the warmth of the fire.  After snacking on the bread and cheese (Gold ate little, but drank three cups of tea), they had decided to play gin rummy.

Wind howled outside, a fresh blast of snowflakes hitting the window, and Gold raised his head from the cards in his hand, frowning.

“It sounds as though it’s getting worse,” he observed.  “I doubt they’ll be able to fix the power before morning at this rate.  Probably some trees down.”

“You don’t mind me staying, do you?” Belle asked a little anxiously, and he shook his head.

“Who would remind me to drink fluids and rest up if you weren’t here?” he said dryly, and she grinned.

“Don’t you have family?” she asked.

He took another card, sliding it in between two others and tapping it down with a fingertip.  His face was expressionless, but she had grown used to that over the course of several games.  The guy would have made an excellent poker player.  Unfortunately she didn’t know how to play, and was too tired to learn that evening.  Besides, she liked winning.

“Both my parents are dead,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be.”

There was silence for a moment, but for the snap and crackle of the fire.  Belle ran her eyes over her cards, and glanced up at him.

“Siblings?” she asked, and he gave her a twisted smile.

“It seems I was more than enough for them to cope with,” he said.  “You?”

Belle shook her head.

“Just me,” she said.  “Mum died when I was ten.”

“And your father never remarried?”

“Never even dated,” she said sadly.  “He loved her very much.  Don’t think he’s been happy since.”

“That must be difficult,” he said quietly, and she shrugged.

“Kinda used to it by now,” she said.  “Maybe - maybe he’ll be different if I have my own family.  Grandchildren, you know?”

“Maybe,” he agreed, and looked at her over the top of his cards.  “Have you any designs on that front?”

Belle giggled, pleased that the dim light would hide her blush.

“Not right now, but you know what I mean,” she said, and put her head to the side.  “What about you?  You want kids?”

He was silent for a moment, running a finger over the edges of the cards to even them up.

“I’m - very fond of children,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, so I noticed,” she said.  “You want to have any?”

“It’s not something I’m giving any thought to at the moment,” he said, his voice a little stiff.  “I’m busy enough as it is.”

He seemed uncomfortable, and she supposed it was a very personal question to have asked.  It made her feel awkward, and she tugged at her lip with her teeth as she tried to think of something to say to change the subject.

“Is Dorothy gay?” she asked suddenly.  Why, brain?  Why was that the only thing you could think of?

“I - yes, I believe she is,” he said, looking bemused at the change of topic.  “She’s single, as well.”

“Oh, good!” she said, and he eyed her.

“She drinks in the Rabbit Hole most Fridays, if she’s not on shift,” he said carefully.  “If you like, I could maybe ask for a change of the rota so you two could - get a drink, or something.”

Belle’s brow crinkled, and her eyes widened as she understood his meaning.

“Oh, I wasn’t asking for me,” she said hastily.  “It’s - it’s my friend Ruby.  She kind of has a crush.”

“Miss Lucas from the diner?”  Gold looked amused.  “Well, she should trust her instincts and ask out the lovely Nurse Gale.  I’m ninety-nine percent certain she’ll get the answer she wants.”

He grinned at her, eyes glinting in the candlelight, and glanced down at the cards in his hand.  She let her eyes run over him, soft hair falling around his face, his skin warm and his long fingers plucking out cards to rearrange them. His lips looked very soft, and she wondered how it would feel to kiss him, if she were to sit forward and press her mouth to his.  If it would be soft and gentle, or hard and passionate.

“It’s your turn,” he said, making her start.

She quickly glanced at her hand before reaching for another card, unable to hide her smile of triumph as she pulled the King of Diamonds.

“Gin,” she said happily, laying out her hand, and Gold groaned.

“How are you doing that?” he demanded.  “That’s five games to one!”

“Guess it’s my lucky night,” she said, winking at him.

“Blizzards and power outages notwithstanding.”

“Admit it, you’re having fun.”

“Fine, I admit it,” he grumbled.  “Would you like a glass of wine, since we can’t make tea?”

“Are you sure that’s the best thing for you to be having when you’re trying to shake a flu virus?”

“Who’s the doctor?” he asked, looking amused.  “Let me make my own bad decisions.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I’ll get it,” she said.  “It’s your deal.”

She threw back the covers, taking the tea things through to the kitchen.  The dim light outside showed that the snow was still falling rapidly, and she sighed. No chance of making it home, and it was looking less likely that she’d be able to get to work in the morning.  She pulled a bottle of red wine from the rack, rummaging in the drawers for a corkscrew.  It seemed strange to be going through his cupboards as though she lived there, but he didn’t seem to mind. She found two glasses and opened up the wine, carrying the drinks through to the lounge.  Gold had dealt the cards, and she shot him a suspicious look.

“You better hadn’t have peeked,” she said accusingly, and he pressed a hand to his heart.

“I’m a gentleman, Miss French.”

“Hmm.”  She set down the wine, getting back beneath the covers and drawing up her feet.  “We’ll see about that.”

[emospritelet]

KOL prompt-Zelena shows up next morning...Belle answers door in Gold’s shirt

Wow, you guys really want Zelena to know about this…

Kiss of Life verse

The snow had drifted in the night, and lay heavy on the ground in blankets of white, glittering in the first orange rays of the winter dawn.  Belle chewed her lip as she gazed out of the kitchen window, wondering if she would be able to make it to the hospital.  She supposed it might be easier walking than driving, so at least she had the advantage of her own two legs.  She poured hot water into the teapot, glancing up at the ceiling as her mind turned to Dr Gold. Stirling.  He gave me his name.  A nice name, if - unusual.  Like him.  He’s nice, in a - different sort of way.  And lonely, I think, even if he won’t admit it.

She busied herself looking for something to make for breakfast.  He was running low on eggs, milk and bread, and she resolved to get some while she was out.  If the store had any left, of course; she knew how people liked to bulk-buy the basics when storms blew in.  Perhaps they were used to fierce winters in this Maine town, and took the heavy snows in their stride.

There were only two eggs left, and about half a loaf of good bread, but a quick search of his cupboards turned up spices, and she took out cinnamon and nutmeg and started to prepare French toast.  By the time it was cooked, the tea was ready, and so she poured him a cup and set it on the tray.  The toast was golden-brown, sweet with the scent of sugar and spices, and she poured maple syrup over it in rivulets of deep amber.  The smell made her mouth water.

Gold was lying back with the damp cloth over his eyes when she entered his bedroom, but he had pushed the blankets down to his waist.  His chest was thin and wiry, his nipples taut and a light sheen of perspiration covering him.

“Oh good, your fever broke!” she said, making him start.

He pulled the cloth from his face, blinking at her, and clutched at the blankets, tugging them higher.  The light gleamed on his stubble, glinting gold and silver.  A muscle twitched in his cheek, and he seemed to look everywhere and nowhere, all at once, before dropping his eyes to focus on his fingers, twisting in the sheets.

“Miss French,” he said softly.  “Belle, I—”

“I made you breakfast,” she said cheerfully, walking forward to set the tray on the nightstand.  “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he admitted.  “But possibly a little better than I did yesterday.”

She laid a hand across his forehead, nodding.

“Yeah, you’re still too hot,” she said.  “You’re sweating though, so that’s a good sign.  I’ll get you some more water.”

She turned away, and felt his hand go around her wrist, holding her there.  Belle glanced around at him, her heart thudding a little.  He was gazing at her with an almost pleading look in his eyes.

“Leave it for a moment,” he said, and hesitated.  “Last night.  Did I - I think I was dreaming.  Did I - were you in here?”

“Oh.”  The warmth of his touch was making it hard to gather her thoughts. “Yeah - you were having a nightmare, that’s all.  Go yourself tangled in the sheets, so I had to get you out.”

“Ah.”  He nodded.  “Sorry if I woke you.”

“It’s okay.”

She decided not to tell him about the bone-crushing hug, the repeated apologies or the fact that he had almost been crying.  Whatever the nightmare had been about, she doubted he wanted to relive it.

“I slept well, other than that,” she added, and he nodded, looking relieved.

“Did you say something about breakfast?”

“I made you French toast,” she said.  “I hope you like it.  There were only two eggs left, and not much milk, so it was the only thing I could think of.”

“French toast?”  He gave her a tiny, lopsided grin which was far too adorable to be legal, in her opinion.  “I’m sure it’s delicious.”

“Well, eat up,” she said.  “There’s tea there, as well.”

“What about you?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“Mine’s downstairs.”

“Well, go and get it,” he said.  “Allow me to have a little conversation before you leave me in my sickbed.”

He was smiling at her, and she had the feeling she was grinning like a loon in response.  She was suddenly very aware that she was wearing nothing but his silk shirt, and a blush rose in her cheeks as she wondered how it would be if she had spent the night in his bed rather than the spare room.  If she was there not because he was sick, but because they had spent all night wrapped in each other’s arms.  He reached for his plate of toast, and she watched the light play on his skin, the light sheen on his chest and the lines of shadow picking out his ribs and the thin ropes of muscle in his arms.  She licked her lips.

“I’ll - I’ll just get my tea,” she ventured, and bolted from the room.

She padded downstairs in bare feet, shivering a little in the cool of the morning.  The house was heated, of course, but there was still a chill in the air, especially when stepping onto the tiled floor of the kitchen.  She poured herself a cup of tea, stirring in milk, and the sound of the doorbell made her start.  Brow crinkling, she wondered who on earth could be calling at seven-thirty in the morning after a heavy snowstorm.  She set down the milk, trotting to the hall and opening up the front door.

Zelena Mills’ expression changed from a wide, somewhat manic smile to a frown of confusion, and then a nostril-flaring glare of rage.

“Oh, Zelena,” said Belle brightly.  “What are you doing here?  Is there some sort of emergency at the hospital, or something?”

“What am I doing here?” snapped Zelena.  “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh, I stayed over,” said Belle.

“Half naked?” said Zelena, in a freezing voice, and Belle glanced down at herself.

Of course.  The shirt.

“Oh, that,” she said hastily.  “Well, I had nothing to wear to bed, you see, so—”

“Oh please, spare me the details!” said Zelena, in a withering tone.  “I’ve only trekked over here through driving snow to see how Dr Gold was doing and bring him some soup.  If I’d known you already had your claws in him I wouldn’t have bothered!”

“My - my claws?”  Belle shook her head.  “No no, it’s nothing like that.  You see, I had to take my clothes off because it was hot, and - and take a shower, so—”

“You must think I’m an idiot!” snapped Zelena.  “Well, flounce around half naked all you want!  I suppose we won’t expect you at work today.”

“No, I’ll be there,” Belle assured her.  “I won’t miss my shift, I promise.”  She gestured to the plastic tub in Zelena’s hands.  “What’s that?”

Zelena looked as though she had bitten something sour, her jaw working.

“It’s soup,” she said stiffly.  “I thought he might like it.”

“Oh, that’s kind of you,” said Belle.  “I’ll make sure he gets it.”

She reached for the tub, but Zelena clutched it tighter.

“How do I know you won’t try to pass it off as your own?” she sneered, and Belle rolled her eyes.

“Because I already made him some,” she said.  “I’m sure he’d like yours too.”

“Not if you do something to it before he gets to eat it.”

“Why would I do that?” snapped Belle, losing patience.  “Come on Zelena, are we seriously arguing about soup?  Just - just give it over.”

She tugged at the container, and Zelena snatched it back roughly, causing the lid to burst off and most of the soup to course down the front of her coat.  She let out a shriek that made Belle want to stick a finger in her ear, and danced back, losing her balance on the porch and falling backwards off the steps into the thick snow.  Belle closed her eyes at the soft thump as Zelena landed on her back, spilt soup leaving a trail of vegetables and lumps of chicken in her wake.

“Uh - are you okay?” asked Belle, and Zelena pushed up into a sitting position, her eyes flashing.

“If you say a word…” she said ominously, and Belle rolled her eyes.

“I’ll see you at work, then,” she said dryly, and shut the front door, shaking her head.

She went to the kitchen to retrieve her tea, and carried it upstairs, shivering a little from her exposure to the cold air.  Gold was eating his breakfast as she entered the bedroom, and popped a piece of French toast into his mouth, licking maple syrup from his fingers.

“What was all that about?” he asked, and Belle sighed.

“Zelena came to bring you soup and plump your pillows,” she said, and he shuddered.

“She’s not coming in, is she?” he asked warily, and Belle shook her head. Gold let out what sounded like a sigh of relief.

“Please pour the soup away,” he said.  “I wouldn’t trust anything that woman cooked.”

“Already done,” said Belle, and smirked to herself.

[emospritelet]

KOL!PROMPT --- Belle hurts herself in the kitchen. Thank God Dr. Gold is there to, erm, make her feel better...

Last time, the power went out, and there was a crash from the kitchen...

Kiss of Life verse

Gold swung his legs over the side of the bed, pushing to his feet and staggering as his legs almost gave way beneath him.

“Belle?” he called, grasping at the edge of the dresser to steady himself.  “Are you alright?”

He made it to the door, groping in the darkness.  The storm meant that there was no moonlight to see by, but his eyes gradually adjusted, enough to make out the landing and the yawning darkness of the stairwell.  He grasped at the banister.

“Belle?” he called.

“I’m okay.”  Her voice floated up, wobbly and somewhat subdued.  “I’m in the kitchen.  Cut myself, I think.”

He made his way downstairs, legs shaking, his heart thumping with the effort. The flu was still running rampant in his system, and he suspected that wandering around in the dark was a good way to break something, but he couldn’t leave her there, injured, when she had been good enough to care for him.

By the time he reached the kitchen, his eyes had adjusted to the dark enough that he could see Belle, sitting on the floor with what looked like shards of china around her.

“I - I broke one of your cups,” she said, sounding upset.  “I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, it’s just a cup,” he said gently.  “Did you say you cut yourself?”

“Yeah.”  She sounded on the verge of tears.  “I should probably look at that, but I can’t see what the hell I’m doing.”

“I have candles,” he said, and Belle bit back a sob.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” she said miserably.  “I’ve just been sitting here like an idiot!”

“Please,” he said calmly.  “Don’t distress yourself.  I’ll get us some light, hmm?”

He limped to the drawers, cursing himself for not bringing his cane.  What the hell had he been thinking, leaping out of bed like he was some sort of bloody hero come to save her, when he couldn’t even bloody walk.

He found the candles, and a box of matches to light them, and after a few moments, warm light began to spread outwards from tiny, dancing flames. Gold melted wax onto plates and stood the candles in it, holding them until the wax hardened.  Turning back, he saw that Belle was watching him, her skin shades of peach and apricot in the candlelight, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.  She was grasping her wrist, and he reached into one of the cupboards for the medical supplies, lowering himself onto the floor beside her.  Shards of broken china tinkled as he brushed them aside with a hand.  He’d need the dustpan to clean that up.

“Let me see,” he said gently, and Belle offered her wrist.

It looked as though a fragment of china had cut her, slicing through the skin in the heel of her hand and into the top of her wrist.  The wound was still bleeding, if slowly, and he took time to clean it, mouth flattening as she winced in pain.  She didn’t complain, though, letting him wash the wound and press sterile gauze over it before taping it up.  Gold flicked his eyes up to meet hers as he wound a clean bandage around, securing it with a safety pin.

“There,” he said quietly.  “I think you’ll just about survive the night.”

She gave him a wobbly smile.

“Thank you,” she said.  “I come over to look after you, and you end up having to take care of me.  Doesn’t seem fair.”

“Well, we’ll just have to take care of each other,” he said, and shivered, his teeth chattering.

Belle’s eyes dropped to his chest, where his pyjama top gaped open, and he tugged it closed.  With the loss of power, the heating had gone off, and the house would start to cool rapidly.  He ran a hand through his hair, wishing his brain didn’t feel like cotton wool.

“Why don’t I light a fire?” he suggested.  “We could at least keep warm in the lounge.  If you could bring some blankets from the bedrooms, we should be able to make ourselves snug enough to wait out the storm.”

She smiled up at him.

“Now you’ve set some candles up, I might be able to get us something to eat,” she said.  “The tea should be brewed by now.”

Her eyes were sparkling, her tears gone, and it made him want to smile back. God help him, it made him want to kiss her.

“Right,” he said.  “Right.  Well.  The fire.  Yes.”

He pushed to his feet, staggering to the nearest wall and making his slow, limping way to the lounge.  He could feel her eyes on him, and hated that he looked so weak.  Sick, weak and old.  As if she’d ever want to kiss you, you’re just another patient to her.  Like she doesn’t work hard enough at that bloody hospital.  Just light the damn fire before you both freeze to death, you idiot.

[emospritelet]

KoL! Prompt -- the snow continues to pile and Belle returns to Dr. Gold's side to ensure he's not alone. Oh, and the power goes out.

Kiss of Life verse

The day seemed to drag, lunchtime taking forever to arrive.  Belle sank into one of the chairs in the canteen with a sigh, wriggling her toes in her boots to ease the ache in her feet.  A cup of tea steamed at her side, and a plate of what was rumoured to be beef stew sat in front of her, lumps of meat and vegetables in a thin gravy dumped unceremoniously on top of a pile of mashed potato.  She knew she had to eat, but her appetite appeared to have deserted her, and she wrinkled her nose.  Deciding to leave the food for a moment, she fished out her phone to call her father, figuring that he would at least be up and about by now.

“I thought you were coming over this morning,” he grumbled, almost before she had finished saying hello.  “There’s no bacon in the house.”

“So get some,” she said patiently.  “You’re much nearer to the store than I am. It took me ages to trek through the snow to work this morning, I wouldn’t have had time to get over to you.”

He grunted.

“Yeah, the snow’s piled up here too,” he said.  “I might close up early.”

“There’s supposed to be another storm coming in,” she said. “Best stock up on whatever we’ll need.”

“Worst comes to the worst, Granny’s has a generator,” he said.  “Marco said something about a poker night.  Thought I might go.”

“Oh,” she said.  “Will you eat there?”

“Bite to eat and a few beers,” he confirmed.  “It’s Friday night, after all.”

“In that case, I’ll go and check up on a friend after work,” she said.  “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Fine.”

He rang off, and Belle rolled her eyes.  She still wasn’t sure whether she had made the right decision, choosing to move back in with him after she had failed to find work after college.  He certainly didn’t seem to want to spend any more time with her than he had previously, and the house was a mess unless she tidied it up.  She reminded herself that she didn’t have much of a choice in the matter; librarian posts were few and far between, it seemed.  Although that was unlikely to change now that she had moved to Storybrooke.  The town did have a library, or at least it had in the past.  The building was still there, but it was locked shut, and a peek through the windows had shown empty racks of shelving covered in dust.  Another casualty of straitened town funds and cuts in local services, she suspected.  Perhaps the Mayor could be persuaded to reopen, but she doubted that was a fight she could win in the middle of a flu epidemic.

She picked up her fork, poking at the stew with a lack of enthusiasm.  It was food, and she needed to eat, but she had little appetite, and the first mouthful seemed to taste of very little but salt and grease.  She wrinkled her nose, but forced it down.  There was an afternoon of work ahead, and the long trek back through thick snow.  She needed the energy.

By the time she left the hospital, it was getting dark and the snow was already falling.  Zelena had largely ignored her all day, which suited Belle just fine, and she hadn’t heard anything further about the rumours of her supposed affair with Dr Gold, so she was hoping it would all blow over by the time he returned to work.  The wind had picked up, dark clouds massing and a heavy feeling in the air which suggested that the forecast storm was on its way.  She should really have headed home, but her father would be out with his friends, and she was anxious to see how Gold was doing.

She stopped off at one of the grocery stores on the way, remembering the shortage of basic items in his house.  Sure enough, the store was running low on milk (she had to get skim), and the only bread remaining was a packet of seeded rolls, but she took them, along with a box of eggs.  She told herself there would be plenty of time to get home once she had checked up on him, and stomped through the fallen snow on the way to his house, her legs feeling heavier than usual, the wind trying to cut through her coat.  She had left his key beneath the pot on the porch, and she unlocked the door, breathing a sigh of relief as the warmth of the house washed over her.

“It’s only me!” she called.  “Just here to see how you’re doing!”

She locked the door behind her, making her way up the stairs.  Gold was sitting up in bed propped up on pillows, a jug of water by his side and a book tented on the blankets beside him.  He had pulled on a pyjama top, although it was unbuttoned, and she tried not to stare at the strip of his chest that it revealed.  There was more stubble on his cheeks and chin, gleaming silver in the light, and he sent her a brief, tired smile.

“Belle,” he said.  “Good of you to come back.  I’m feeling a little better.”

She reached over to feel his forehead, frowning.

“You still have a fever,” she said.

“I’ll be alright,” he said.  “I’m sitting up, at least.  How are things at the hospital?”

“We’re coping just fine without you, so don’t even think about going back before you’re well,” she said severely, and he grinned.

“Yes ma’am.”

She nodded briskly, as though she believed his submissiveness.

“Would you like me to make you something to eat?”

“Just some tea would be wonderful,” he said, running a hand through his hair and sending her a lopsided grin.  “I only feel as though I’ve been beaten up for an hour or so, rather than all day.  I’m hoping that’s good news.”

“I’ll get you some tea,” she promised, shrugging out of her coat.

“Make yourself one, too,” he said.  “I - uh - I could use the company.”

She grinned at him, and draped her coat over the back of a chair, heading downstairs.  Wind howled outside, and the lights flickered as she made her way to the kitchen.  She filled the kettle and switched it on, getting out the teapot, cups and milk jug and setting them on a tray.  She hummed as she worked, looking in his fridge to see if there was anything she could make him for a snack, if he should get his appetite back.  There was still some soup leftover from the previous evening, so she could always heat that through.  The kettle shut off, clouds of steam billowing from the spout, and she closed the fridge door, crossing to pour hot water into the teapot.

Gold rolled stiff shoulders, easing back against the pillows with a sigh.  He had to admit to being pleased that Belle had returned.  It was kind of her to look out for him, and while he was certain that he could have nursed himself through the flu, it was certainly easier and more pleasant to have her do it.  It must have been difficult for her to trek all the way over to his place from the hospital, considering the weather, and he admired her dedication.  Who was he to her, after all, but a fellow employee of the hospital?  She had a good heart.

Driving snow lashed against the windows, the wind moaning around the eaves of the house, and the lights went out, plunging the room into darkness.  Almost immediately, there was a crash from down in the kitchen, and a cry of pain, and he sat bolt upright in bed, his heart thumping.  Belle.

[emospritelet]

What if a snowstorm leaves KOL Belle stuck at Gold's longer than she expected? Overnight, perhaps...

What indeed....

Kiss of Life verse

Belle shrugged on Dr Gold’s shirt, the silk feeling delicious against her skin.  It smelt of his cologne, and the faint muskiness of his own scent, and she fastened the buttons down the front before going back into the bedroom and picking up her discarded, soup-covered blouse.  Gold was lying with the wet cloth over his eyes, the blankets pulled up to his chin, and Belle shook her head fondly.  The man was clearly suffering, and she hoped that the little she could do would bring him some comfort.

She went downstairs to fetch a fresh bowl of soup, and Gold managed to sit up when she returned, a somewhat sheepish look on his face as she handed him the bowl, along with fresh bread and butter.  She left him eating, going to fetch cleaning materials to mop up the spilt soup and clear it from the rug.

“This is very good,” he ventured, and she looked up, raising an eyebrow.

“Can you actually taste anything?” she asked, with a grin.

“Okay, not much,” he admitted.  “But it’s hot and I’m sure it’s doing me good.”

“Well, there’s plenty more,” she said, turning back to sponging the rug clean.

“You should have some.”

“I will, I just need to do this and then wash my things.”

There was silence for a moment, except for the scrape of his spoon in the bowl.  Belle cleared up the last of the soup, rinsing her sponge in the bowl of soapy water and straightening up.

“You should get home,” he said, mopping soup with the bread and butter.  “You don’t need to stay here with me, I’ll be alright.”

“Snow’s come down thick,” she said.  “Pretty sure if I tried to walk, I’d freeze to death.  I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

He eyed her over his spoon, dark eyes unreadable.

“I’m sorry your shift carried on this long,” he said wryly, and Belle giggled.

“I don’t mind, really,” she said.  “As long as you don’t mind me staying.  Is there a spare room?”

“Three,” he said, scooping up the last of the soup.  “Take your pick.  All the beds are made up.”

“Big house for one person,” she remarked.

“Yes,” he said, after a pause.  “I like it, though.”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” she said hastily.  “Your kitchen’s great.  Do you cook a lot?”

He let the soup bowl rest in his lap, looking at her with a spark of interest.

“Actually, I do,” he said.  “Food is vital to health, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would.”  She leaned in to take the bowl from him, pressing a hand to his forehead and frowning.  “You’re still burning up.  Is there anything I can give you for the fever?”

“I’ll take some paracetamol before I go to sleep,” he said.  “Please, go and eat.  I don’t want you to get sick too.”

Belle smiled at him, taking the empty plate and bowl from him and watching as he slid down beneath the blankets once more.  She went downstairs, washing the few dishes in the sink and, after some exploration, finding the washing machine and dryer in the basement.  She put her skirt and blouse in the washing machine with some soap, noting that the basement was as clean and orderly as the rest of the house, gardening implements hanging from hooks on the walls and a workbench clear of clutter.  Once back in the kitchen, she heated up some of the soup for herself, eaten seated at the kitchen table with buttered bread to dip in.  The house was silent but for the low ticking of clocks on the wall and out in the hallway.  It was getting late, and she finished up her soup and washed her dishes, stacking them on the drainer.

When she returned to the basement, the washing machine had finished its cycle, and she hung her blouse and skirt up to dry, hoping it would shake loose some of the creases.  She could wash her underwear in the bathroom, and have a clean outfit to wear to work the next day.  The hours of being on her feet were taking their toll, and so she went back upstairs, grabbing some paracetamol on her way.  When she entered Dr Gold’s room he was huddled in the blankets again, but he sat up to take two pills and swallow them down with some water.

“I’ll be right next door,” she said soothingly.  “Just call if you need anything.”

He sent her a crooked little smile that made her heart thump.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.  “You should consider a career in nursing, Miss French. You’re a natural.”

“I actually studied library science,” she said.  “Not a lot of calling for that in Storybrooke, though.  Maybe I’ll consider it.”

She straightened up, laying the cool cloth over his forehead again.

“And it’s Belle,” she added.  “You’ve seen me in my bra, I think we’ve gone beyond formality.”

She stomped off, leaving him making a sort of choking noise behind her, and grinned to herself.  He’d get used to it.

[emospritelet]

CS Prompt - After knocking and ringing the bell at Gold's home without answer, Belle finds a key under the mat.

I figured Gold would hide his key in a less obvious place, but otherwise...

Following on from this ficlet in what is now the Kiss of Life verse

She reached his house as the snow was starting to fall again, the walk there through heavy drifts making her legs ache.  It was already getting dark, the streetlights sending a wan glow across the pale covering of snow, and her feet were growing cold despite her thick boots.  Dr Gold’s house appeared through the driving snow, and she looked it over.  Salmon pink with a green porch, just as he had said.  Not what she would have expected from Gold, except for the Victorian styling.  He was a man with one foot in the past, she felt.  Traditional at heart, despite his skills in modern medicine.  Polite and well-mannered.  Far too well-mannered, if you asked her.  She wouldn’t have been in the least bit upset if he had cornered her in the supply closet and kissed her senseless, but she imagined he wasn’t the impulsive type.  Unfortunately.

His Cadillac was parked in the driveway, a light shining in the lamp on the porch, and for a moment she hesitated, wondering what the hell she was doing.  So what if he hadn’t come to work that day?  Perhaps he had decided to take the day off to rest.  He could easily have called Dr Whale or someone else at the hospital, and there would be no reason for her to be informed.  What the hell was she up to, turning up on his doorstep at six in the evening in the driving snow?

It was almost enough to make her turn around and head home, but she reasoned that she had come this far, and there was little point in backing out now.  If she made a fool of herself, so be it.  She trotted up the steps onto the porch and knocked on the door before she could lose her nerve.  There was silence, and she waited, bouncing nervously on her toes.  No lights came on in the house, and she wondered if he was even in, although given the weather it would have been strange for him to have ventured out.  She knocked again, and when there was still no sign of life, she bent to peer through the glass.  It was possible to make out a hallway and set of stairs through the rippled glass, and her eyes widened as she saw what looked like his cane, lying on the floor at the foot of the stairs.  A dark shape lay beyond, and her heart thumped in her chest.

“Dr Gold!” she called.  “Dr Gold, are you okay?”

There was no answer, and the dark shape didn’t move.  She could feel her panic rising, and she pushed back from the door, wondering what to do.  Desperately, she tried to think of way to get inside the house, and she lifted the mat, cursing as no spare key was revealed.  Feeling along the top of the door frame didn’t reveal one either, and she was beginning to despair of ever finding a way in when she spied the potted shrubs off to the side.  She lifted each one in turn, finding a key under the third, and hissed in satisfaction.  The door squeaked as it opened, and she stepped inside the hallway, heart thumping.

It was a relief to find that the dark shape on the floor was nothing more than Dr Gold’s overcoat, discarded beside his cane.  The house was silent, and Belle closed and locked the door behind her.

“Dr Gold?” she called.  “It’s Belle.  Are you okay?”

Silence, but for the low, monotonous ticking of clocks.  She looked off to the right, where a darkened lounge displayed shadowed chairs and a couch with numerous cushions.  Beyond that was a dining room, polished wooden table surrounded by eight chairs, dark and empty.  The kitchen was also lifeless, and she turned her head to the stairs, running her eyes up the flight to the landing above.

“Dr Gold?” she called again, and reached out with a little hesitancy, grasping the banister with one hand as she did so.

She made her way up slowly, heart thumping in her chest, and paused as she heard a thump ahead of her.  Licking her lips nervously, she rounded the top of the stairs, and almost screamed as a figure loomed out of the darkness.  Dr Gold was half-naked, loose pants covering him below the waist, his thin chest bare.  She could see his ribs, slatted beneath lightly-tanned skin, his nipples dark spots atop lean pectoral muscles.  His hair was hanging in his face, his eyes dull, and fresh stubble covered his cheeks and chin.

“Dr Gold,” she said softly, and he seemed to see her for the first time.

“Miss French,” he whispered, looking confused.  “What are you doing here?”

“I - I came to see how you were,” she said numbly.  “You didn’t show up at work.”

“Ah.”  He swayed, gripping at the door frame to steady himself.  “Not feeling so good.”

Belle frowned, and pressed a hand to his forehead, hissing at the temperature of his skin.

“You have a fever!” she said.  “I told you you’d get the flu if you didn’t rest!”

“Yes,” he said wearily.  “Yes, you’re very wise.  Excuse me.”

He staggered past, hands braced against the wall as he dragged his injured leg, slipping into what she presumed was the bathroom and closing the door.  Belle chewed her lip, thinking rapidly.  She went back downstairs and into the kitchen, filling a glass jug with water and carrying it back upstairs with her.  His cane was retrieved on the way, and as she reached the top he emerged from the bathroom.  She handed the cane to him.

“I looked through your door and saw this on the floor and your coat next to it,” she said.  “I thought something must have happened.”

“I’ll be alright,” he said, shivering.

She got on one side of him with the water jug in her hand, giving him some support as he limped into the bedroom.  A lamp on the nightstand sent out a warm light, casting deep shadows around the room, and Belle helped him to the bed, a large, ornate thing with an elaborately-carved headboard.  He lay back with a sigh of relief, and she set down the water jug, refilling the glass he had and pulling the blankets up over him.  He was shivering, and she felt his forehead again, making him let out a low groan at the touch of her hand.

“That’s wonderfully cold,” he said.  “Everything hurts.”

“Well, it’s bound to,” she said.  “Did you take anything?”

He shook his head, and she sighed.  Men.

“Okay, wait there.”

“Where am I gonna go?” he asked irritably, and she rolled her eyes.

“Drink some water,” she ordered, and stalked out, leaving him muttering.

Doctors, she thought.  Always the worst patients.

She went down to the kitchen, and looked in a few cupboards before finding a box with medicines.  Fishing out some ibuprofen, she carried them upstairs.  A quick look in the bathroom revealed a cotton washcloth, and she wet it with water, wringing it out and going back into the bedroom.  Dr Gold was lying in bed, glassy-eyed and shivering, and she pushed two tablets from their blister packs and held them out to him.

“This should ease the aches and pains,” she said.

“I’m perfectly capable of deciding whether I need painkillers,” he said ungraciously, and she rolled her eyes.

“Come on, there’s no point in suffering if you don’t have to.”

Dr Gold sighed, nodded, and took the pills from her, swallowing them down with some water.  He lay back against the pillows with a sigh, and Belle laid the wet cloth across his forehead, making him let out a moan of pleasure that, in more intimate circumstances, she would have been delighted to have been the cause of.

“God, that feels amazing!” he murmured.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She used the cloth to wipe his face, ears and neck before laying the cloth over his forehead again, and Dr Gold growled in appreciation.

“Did you eat anything today?” she asked, and he shook his head.  “Right, then I’m gonna have a look in your kitchen and see what I can find, okay?”

“Not hungry.”

“You still need to eat,” she said firmly.  “I’m not gonna make you devour a three-course meal, just eat something nourishing.”

“You’re a bloody tyrant!” he muttered, but without any heat, and she smirked, pushing to her feet.

“I’ll be back upstairs soon,” she added.  “Drink some water.”

He grumbled something, and she went out of the room, her tiredness having disappeared like smoke.  He could bloody well have someone take care of him for a change.

[emospritelet]

Candy Striper Belle & Dr. Gold have a coffee run in at the cafetiere at the end of Belle's first week of work.

Belle sighed, pressing her palm to the small of her back and stretching.  They had been short-handed all week, and she had worked more hours than she had planned.  Her entire body ached from rushing around and carrying supplies, but it was a good sort of ache, the kind that came from hard work that meant something.

She still had three hours left of her shift, but Dorothy had taken one look at her and told her to go get some coffee.  She hadn’t objected, and she rolled stiff shoulders as she made her way to the cafeteria, smiling her thanks and handing over some cash in return for a mug of coffee and a maple pecan Danish.  She turned away, glancing around in vain for a vacant table.  The place was full of hospital staff chatting over coffees and tucking into cake and sandwiches, and there was only one table with a single occupant.  Belle sucked in a breath as she saw that it was Dr Gold.

He was sitting with one elbow on the table, a cup of coffee steaming in front of him and his finger and thumb rubbing at the bridge of his nose, as though his eyes were tired.  She suspected they were; he had been on shift when she had arrived, and would no doubt be there long after she had gone home to crawl into bed and think about how it might feel to kiss him.  Which seemed to be the uppermost thought in her mind every night since she had started working at the hospital.

She made a decision, stepping forward quickly to stand beside his table.

“Dr Gold,” she said, and he looked up, dark eyes heavy.

“Miss French, isn’t it?” he said.  “How are you settling in?”

“Um - okay, I guess,” she said.  “Do you mind if I sit down?  There’s a shortage of free tables.”

“Oh, of course.”  He gestured to the seat opposite.  “Be my guest.  I’ll be leaving soon, anyway.”

She slid into the seat, setting down her coffee and Danish.

“We could split it, if you like,” she said, and he glanced at the pastry with a spark of interest in his eyes, but shook his head.

“Coffee’s all I need.”

She privately thought he could do with eating a few decent meals and working fewer hours, but she said nothing.  She tore off a piece of the pastry, putting it in her mouth and licking sticky glaze from her fingers.  He was eyeing her over the rim of his coffee cup as he sipped at it, and she sucked a few crumbs from her thumb.

“Apologies for my messy eating,” she said.

“That’s quite alright.”  He set down his cup.  “I’ve seen you running around the place, I suspect you could use the energy.”

“Yeah.”

She tore off another piece and popped it in her mouth, making a noise of enjoyment at the rich taste of the buttery pastry and the maple-coated pecans.  Dr Gold took another sip of his coffee.

“How are you enjoying working here?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s been - well, it’s been hard work, and I feel like I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but it’s been fun,” she said, and he gave her a tiny smile.

“Well, the feeling of not knowing what the hell you’re doing never fully goes away, if it’s any comfort,” he said.

“But you’re a doctor,” she said.  “The doctor, from what I hear.  The most experienced in this place.”

“And none of us are infallible,” he said.  “More’s the pity.”

He drained his cup, setting it down with a clunk, and pushed to his feet with the aid of his cane.

“I’ll leave you to your snack,” he said.  “Good evening, Miss French.  And welcome aboard.”

He shook back his hair, nodded to her once, and strode off with his swift, limping stride.  Belle watched him go, sighing to herself.  Her crush on the man was intense, all-consuming, and apparently wholly unrequited. 

[emospritelet]

CS Prompt - Belle worries when Gold doesnt show up to work.

Following on from this ficlet in this verse

Belle had seen Dr Whale’s car, a flashy red Camaro with a sleek body and a very loud engine.  She half-expected Dr Gold to drive a sports car too, and was pleasantly surprised to find that he had an old Cadillac, all shining black paint and chrome.  She got into the passenger seat, buckling up as he started the engine.

“You’ll have to tell me where to go,” he said.

“Oh, it’s Avonlea Street,” she said hurriedly.  “If you drive out past Marine Garage it’s the third on the left.”

“Right.”

He set off, the car engine purring as it pulled out of the hospital parking lot.  Snow was beginning to fall, pattering against the windows, and he turned on the wipers, white flakes gleaming in the light as they fell.  Dr Gold was silent, and Belle kept sneaking looks across at him.  He looked desperately tired, his eyes hollow, and she hoped that he would be able to get some sleep.

He almost missed the turning, and she thought he must be running on autopilot, no doubt heading to his own house, wherever that was.

“Sorry,” he said wearily.  “For a moment there I’d forgotten I was supposed to be taking you home.”

“Figured,” she said cheerfully.  “Where’s home for you?”

“Oh, I live out on Longbourn Drive,” he said.  “Salmon-pink house, green porch.  I’m told the colour scheme is unusual, but I’m rather fond of it.”

“Huh.”  She pursed her lips.  “Dad keeps meaning to paint our place.  I’m thinking maybe a nice creamy yellow, or something.  Cheer us up.”

“Hardly the weather for exterior decorating,” he remarked, looking out at the falling snow, and she sighed.

“Yeah, it’s gonna have to wait until spring,” she agreed, and gestured out of the window.  “That’s my place, there.”

Dr Gold drew to a stop, and she unbuckled her belt, glancing across at him.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said.  “Now, you’re not going back to the hospital, are you?  You’re going to get some rest, like you promised.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, looking amused, and she gave him a flat look.

“I’m serious,” she said.  “You’ll make yourself sick if you don’t rest.  Eat something hot and get to bed.”

“Well, I should probably tell you the same thing,” he said.  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss French.”

“You can call me Belle, you know,” she said.  “Miss French is incredibly formal.”

“As am I, alas,” he said with a grin, and she sighed.

“It makes me sound as though we’re at a 1940′s tea dance.”

“I don’t see me ever doing much dancing,” he said dryly, patting his bad leg.

“You know what I mean.”  She shrugged out of the belt, picking up her purse.  “Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Miss French.”

Rolling her eyes, she got out of the car, shivering as snowflakes gusted into her face.  She hurried up the path to her front door, glancing over her shoulder to his car pull away, and wondered if he would indeed go home to get some sleep, or whether she would return to the hospital to find him more tired than ever.

The snow had continued to fall during the night, and it lay thick upon the ground the next day, the sky slate grey with the promise of more to come.  Belle trudged to the hospital in thick boots, wrapped up in scarf and gloves and a black cloche hat pulled down over her ears.  The hospital was hectic, nurses running to and fro as they tried to deal with the latest flu victims, and Belle tried to help out with fetching supplies and calming distressed children.  She had kept an eye out for Dr Gold, but hadn’t seen him, and as the time grew near the end of her shift, she began to worry.

“Does Dr Gold have the day off?” she asked Zelena Mills.  “I thought he was on shift today.”

“Whatever time he chooses to take off is none of your business,” she said sharply, pale eyes flashing.

“Don’t be a dick, Zelena,” said Dorothy flatly, and turned to Belle.  “He was due to work today, but I haven’t seen him since I got here.  Guess maybe he decided to take a day off to rest.  God knows the man could use it.”

“It’s not like him not to say anything, though,” said Belle.  “Maybe he’s sick.”

“What, like you know him so well?” said Zelena sarcastically.  “Go and make yourself useful by changing the beds in the children’s ward, will you?”

She stomped off, and Belle rolled her eyes at her back.

“Ignore her,” said Dorothy.  “Isn’t your shift over?  Go get some rest, we could use you back here and firing on all cylinders tomorrow.”

Belle nodded, going to change and pulling on her winter clothes once more.  It appeared she had a visit to make.

[emospritelet]

Candy Striper!Belle and Doctor!Gold: So what happen with these two? Are they avoiding each other at work? What happens if they run into each other?

Wow, this is a blast from the past!  You write one little ficlet…

Belle set a little vase of flowers down on the set of drawers next to John Doe’s bed.  The coma patient had been there as long as she had worked at Storybrooke General, and she wondered if he would ever wake up.  She hoped so.  Mary Margaret Blanchard would certainly be interested in helping him to rehabilitate, if so.

She ducked out of the ward, squeaking as she almost barged into Dr Gold.  He took a smooth step backwards, a slight grin twisting his mouth.  Since their brief New Year’s kiss he had acted as though nothing had changed between them, and perhaps it hadn’t.  For him.  As far as she was concerned, things had changed irrevocably.  That one kiss had fanned the flames of her crush to a roaring inferno, and she had spent more than a few nights wondering how it would feel to truly let go and bang him senseless in the janitor’s closet.  Which made it very awkward to be in the same room as him, at times.

“Isn’t your shift over, Miss French?” he asked, and she blushed, trying to drag her mind out of the gutter.

“I was just finishing up,” she said.  “I’ll - I’ll get out of your way.”

“Until tomorrow, then.”

He pushed open the door, not looking back, and she stared after him, her belly tightening as she remembered the softness of his lips against hers, and the taste of him on her tongue.  Shaking her head, she hurried off down the corridor.  She had to get over the man.

[emospritelet]

Candy Striper prompt: While making rounds Belle accidentally injures herself and Gold treats her.

Following on from this post and all the TMI asks these two got…

Belle huffed in exasperation as she hurried along the corridor, a large box of books in her arms.  It was a little difficult to carry, but she had promised to bring in more reading material for the patients, and then she had gotten absorbed in choosing the books that she thought they would most like.  As a consequence she was late for her shift, and she only hoped it hadn’t caused too much trouble for the rest of the staff.

She swerved around one of the hospital porters and shoved open the door to the children’s ward.  A small bundle of energy slammed into her, and she went over with a shriek, hitting the floor with a thud and a painful twist of her ankle.

“Sorry!  Are you hurt?”

The squeaky, somewhat panicked voice of Henry Swan-Mills reached her, and Belle sat up with a grimace, meeting his anxious eyes with her own.  The boy looked upset, and she tried to smile.

“I didn’t see you,” he added.  “Are you okay, Miss Belle?”

“What on earth’s going on here?”

Dr Gold’s voice made her look around, to see him striding towards them with his hair bouncing around his face and his eyes narrowed.

“It was an accident!” pleaded Henry, and he rolled his eyes.

“Funny how those keep happening to you,” he said dryly.  “What are you doing out of bed, young man?”

“I ran out of books,” he said, subdued.

“And Miss French was good enough to bring you some,” said Dr Gold.  “Why don’t you pick those up and take them in the ward?”

Henry nodded, gathering up the books, and Dr Gold squatted by Belle, concern in his eyes.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, and she winced.

“My ankle.  Went over on the stupid thing as I went down.”

He laid his cane to the side and put his cool hands on her ankle, making her bite her lip.  He was touching her for the first time since they had kissed, and while it was purely professional, it still sent a shiver through her.

“Let me know if you feel any pain,” he said quietly.

He began moving her foot, bending it towards the floor, and then to left and right.  Belle shook her head, barely able to breathe.  She could smell the cologne he wore, something dark and rich and spicy, and for a brief, highly inappropriate moment she imagined how he would taste if she bared his chest and licked all the way up to his neck.  The thought made her blush a little, and she pulled her attention back to what he was doing with her foot.  He tilted it up towards the knee, and she winced.  Dr Gold nodded, and placed a hand on her knee.

“Do you feel pain there?” he asked, glancing up at her, and she shook her head, her heart thumping hard in her chest as she gazed into his eyes.  He nodded again, and let go her foot, gripping his cane again.

“Can you stand?” 

Belle managed to scramble to her feet with the assistance of his hand in hers, and winced again as she put weight on her injured foot.

“It’s a sprain, nothing more,” he said.  “Let’s go and get you strapped up, and then I think you should get home.”

[emospritelet]

"It's almost midnight" / You've never had a New Year's kiss --- Doctor!Gold and Candy Striper!Belle

Okay, so, as a Brit, I had to look up the definition of candy striper and I’m not certain I got it right, but….

Belle hurried along the corridor, files clutched to her chest, huffing a curl of hair out of her face.  New Year’s Eve in Storybrooke General was just as busy as she had predicted, the more so because half the staff had taken the night off.  The party at Granny’s had gotten out of hand, and she had already admitted four people with injuries from fist fights, and one with suspected alcohol poisoning.  She was looking forward to being relieved at six a.m, but in the meantime Dr Gold would want his patient files.

Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of him, that short, thin man with the cold, quiet manner and the long hair that fell around his face.  It looked soft enough for her to want to run her hands through, and she remembered the first day she had met him, and how she had been tongue-tied, a surge of unexpected lust going through her at the look in his dark eyes.  She was always ridiculously happy whenever she heard that she would be on shift with him, and the fact that he seemed completely unaware of her all-consuming crush was almost painful.

She trotted into the ward, where Dr Gold was checking up on Leroy, the suspected alcohol poisoning case.  He made a note on the chart, setting it back in place at the end of the bed, and Belle hurried over with the other files.

“Who’s next?” he asked absently, taking them.

“Henry Swan-Mills slipped on the ice,” she said.  “Suspected broken arm.”

“That boy’s always in trouble,” he muttered, and looked up, seeming to notice her for the first time.  “Haven’t you been here all night?  You should get home.”

“I’m covering for Astrid,” she said.  And I wanted to spend time with you.

“Still,” he said.  “New Year’s Eve.  Don’t you young people count down the hour and kiss each other, or something?”

Belle grinned, feeling bold.

“Well, it is almost midnight,” she said.  “How about it?”

“How about what?”  He looked confused.

“New Year’s Eve kiss, of course.”

Dr Gold swallowed hard, blinking at her uncertainly.

“I’ve - I’ve never had one.”

“You’ve never had a New Year’s Eve kiss?” she said.  “I could change that, you know.”

“You - you want to kiss me?”  He looked almost alarmed at the prospect, and she shrugged, glancing at the bed.

“Well, it doesn’t look as though Leroy would be up to it, so yeah.”

Dr Gold licked his lips, a flick of his pink tongue, and it made her belly clench.

“Alright,” he said.

She reached into her pocket for her phone, her eyes flicking up to meet his.

“At midnight, then,” she said, and they watched as the time counted down.

“Five,” she said, and Dr Gold murmured with her.  “Four.  Three.  Two.  One.”

She leaned in to kiss him, the press of his lips soft and warm against hers, and Dr Gold let out a tiny groan of pleasure that made her abdomen clench.  His arms went around her, and she melted into him as the kiss deepened.  Eventually she pulled back, their lips parting, the taste of him still on her tongue.

“Happy New Year,” she said softly, and he smiled.

“Yes.”

Send me a prompt from this list and a pairing and I’ll write you a ficlet

[emospritelet]

KOL - Breakfast - Tea and toast made on the fire.

Kiss of Life verse

It was very warm.

Belle swam up out of sleep reluctantly, her body heavy, her muscles loose and relaxed.  For a moment she wondered why she wasn’t lying down, but then she felt the couch cushions beneath her fingers, and remembered that she was in Gold’s lounge.  There was heat against her back, the weight of an arm across her waist and the sound of even breathing in her ear.  And there was something sticking in her left buttock, something hard and uncomfortable. Probably the thing that had woken her up, and—  Oh.  Oh.

Her eyes flew open, her cheeks flushing as she stirred, feeling him push against her.  Gold stiffened as he woke, stretching.  Stiffened is a Bad Word. Don’t think about him being stiff, Belle, for God’s sake, woman!

“Belle?” he murmured sleepily, and then sucked in a breath, pulling back from her, his arm leaving her waist.  “God, I’m - I’m sorry!”

Cold air pushed down into the space he had left, chilling her, and she wriggled in the blankets to face him.  He was looking at her with a stricken expression on his face, his cheeks a little warm.  She couldn’t help it, even as she told herself not to look.  Her eyes dropped to his groin, and he hastily bunched the blankets around himself.

“Sorry!” he said quickly.  “I’m sorry, it - it wasn’t on purpose!  I’m sure you’re aware that these things are caused by natural reactions due to the parasympathetic nervous system and the natural early morning rise in testosterone.  It’s - it’s not something I have any conscious control over.”

He appeared to have lapsed into medical terminology, which she imagined made him feel more in control of the uncomfortable situation he was in.  He was speaking very rapidly, the words almost falling from his mouth, his free hand gesturing in agitation.

“I suspect we huddled together in our sleep last night after the fire burned down,” he added.  “Hardly surprising given the low ambient temperature of the room and the natural tendency to gravitate to a heat source.  I assure you that I didn’t consciously put my arm around you—”

“Stirling,” she said gently.  “It’s fine, really.”

“—and I absolutely would never dream of making you uncomfortable by making you think that I was thinking of you in that way,” he went on.  “I would never think of you like that!”

“RIght,” she said, wishing he wouldn’t be quite so vehement about his lack of attraction to her.  “Well, there’s no harm done.  I’m not offended.  You’re right, I’m sure we just rolled together in our sleep.”

He seemed to sag in relief, settling back against the cushions, and eyed her somewhat warily as she reached up to feel his forehead.

“Your fever is gone,” she said, pleased.  “How are you feeling?”

“A little better,” he admitted.  “Hungry for the first time in days, actually.”

“Well, that’s a good sign,” she said.  “Why don’t I make us some breakfast?”

“Perhaps the power’s back on,” he said, and she nodded, although she privately doubted it.

“Maybe.  I’ll try the lights.”

One flick of the light switch answered their question about the power, and Belle sighed.

“I’m sure the power company won’t take too long to fix it,” said Gold, from behind her.

She crossed to the windows, pulling back the curtains.  Drifts of pristine white were piled up beneath the windows, snow still falling.  The sun had just risen, and the sky was white rather than grey, so it looked as though the worst of the storm had passed.  From the depth of the snow drifts, however, they wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon.  She went to check the front door, and sure enough the snow was piled deep around the house.  It made her want to sigh.

“Looks like we’re snowed in,” she called.  “You got a shovel?”

“In the basement,” he called back.  “Is it really that deep?”

“It’d be up above my knees if I tried to walk in it,” she said, shutting the door. “Let’s see about breakfast first.”

She returned to the lounge, where Gold was watching her from the pile of blankets.  The fire had burned out, and Belle poked at the ashes, knocking them into the grate.  The room was cold, and she shivered.

“I’ll handle the fire,” said Gold, from behind her.  “See if you can find us something to eat.”

The kitchen was even colder, and Belle grabbed her coat, pulling it on as she hunted in the fridge and cupboards.  If he could get the fire going, she could make toast, just as she had on camping trips as a child.  She found a set of tongs to turn the toast, and sliced the remaining bread rolls, setting them on a tray with the butter dish and an assortment of jars of jam and peanut butter.  She poked around in the cupboards for a suitable container in which to boil water, and found a milk pan with a lip in its rim for pouring.  She could set that on the fire, too.  At least they could have some hot tea.

Gold was lighting the fire as she carried the tray through, and Belle heaved a sigh of relief as she saw the first flames lick over the wood.  They wouldn’t freeze, at least.  She shivered again, and set down the tray, returning to the kitchen to rinse the teapot and spoon loose tea into it.  

By the time the flames had burned down enough to toast the rolls and set the pan over the glowing embers, the room was pleasantly warm.  Belle was still cold, though, tucked back beneath the covers with the blankets pulled up to her chin.  Gold seemed better, still a little unsteady on his feet, but he managed to boil enough water for tea and to toast the bread rolls, spreading them with butter.  Belle had tried to call the hospital to explain that she would be late due to the snow, but her phone had run out of battery and there was no way to charge it.  She hoped they would realise she was stuck.  She hoped that everything would be alright at the hospital with no power on.

“They’ll be fine,” said Gold, when she asked him.  “Backup power sources.  No danger of it going off, don’t worry.”

“Oh.”

She supposed that made sense, and took a bite of her toast.  Butter ran over her chin and she swept it up with a finger, sucking it off.  The toast didn’t really taste of anything, but at least it was hot.  Gold was watching her, sipping his tea.

“Are you alright?” he asked.  “Your cheeks are flushed.”

“Really?”  She shrugged, pushing the toast listlessly around the plate.  “I’m freezing.”

Gold reached forward, laying a cool palm against her forehead, and frowning.

“You have a high fever,” he said severely.  “Looks as though I’ve given you the flu.”

“I - do feel kind of weird,” she admitted, and he sighed.

“Right,” he said.  “Well, you were good enough to care for me while I was sick.  It seems I need to return the favour.”

[emospritelet]

KOL: How was Belle's shift at work? Were there any... rumors that got back to her? I'm sure Zelena was a delight at the hospital.

Kiss of Life verse

The snow was thick on the ground, the sky ominously grey with the promise of more to come, and Belle shivered as she stomped along through the drifts, wishing she could have stayed at Gold’s house and curled up beside him with another cup of tea.  And while you’re at it you may as well fantasise about getting in bed with him and kissing everything better, she thought wryly, shoving her hands deep in the pockets of her coat.  Her crush was getting out of control.

By the time she got to the hospital, her feet were numb, but she had walked quickly and her cheeks were flushed, her heart thumping and her legs tired.  She tried to catch her breath as she changed, tying back her hair and going to wash her hands.  The wards were as busy as ever, the flu indiscriminate in its choice of victims.  Belle noticed several missing faces amongst the staff, and the nurses that were on shift were having to run from bed to bed to keep up with the work.  Zelena appeared to be no worse for having fallen in the snow, although a faint odour of soup hung about her as she swept past Belle with a disparaging sniff in place of a greeting.

“Thank God you’re okay, at least,” said Dorothy, wearily brushing a loose curl of hair out of her eyes.  “If I don’t get some sleep soon I’ll collapse.”

“You should go,” said Belle, putting a hand on her arm.  “If you push yourself too hard you’ll only come down with the flu too.”

“Like Dr Gold, you mean?” said Dorothy, with a grin.  “I hear you’ve been taking care of him.”

“Yeah, I thought I’d see how he was doing,” said Belle, and wrinkled her nose. “He wasn’t so good, as it turned out.  Pretty much hallucinating, his fever was so bad.”

Dorothy winced.

“You think he’ll be out for awhile?” she asked.  “This place really can’t afford to lose anyone else if we’re to keep things going.  Whale’s dead on his feet.”

“I’d say at least a few days,” said Belle.  “He could barely stand.  I made him some soup, and gave him something to take his fever down, but this flu’s nasty.”

“Yeah, it’s kicking everyone in the balls,” said Dorothy, with a sigh.

“I’ll head over there again after my shift,” added Belle.  “See how he’s doing.”

“Tell him to keep his skinny ass in bed,” she said bluntly.  “I don’t want him killing himself trying to come back to work too soon.”

“Well, I can try…”

Belle’s tone was dry, and Dorothy huffed in agreement.  They both knew it would be almost impossible to keep him from the hospital if he chose to return.  Dorothy glanced across at her, suddenly hesitant.

“Look, it’s none of my business,” she said.  “But Zelena’s kind of talking about you.  In a not-so-nice way.  Saying you spent the night with Dr Gold.”

“Well, I did,” said Belle, puzzled.  “She came to the door this morning and just started kind of yelling at me over nothing.”

“No, I mean she’s saying you spent the night with him,” said Dorothy patiently. “As in slept with him.”

“Well I - oh!”  Belle blushed.  “No, it was nothing like that!  He has the flu, for God’s sake!”

“Yeah, figured,” said Dorothy.  “Anyway, I told her to get on with her work and stop gossiping, but you may find you get some questions from people with nothing better to do.  If that happens just let me know and I’ll stick ‘em on bedpan-cleaning duty.”

“Thanks,” said Belle, still blushing.  “So that’s why she was mad at me.”

“Thinks you’re moving in on her territory,” agreed Dorothy.  “The fact that the man can’t stand her only seems to be a turn-on for her.  I’ve told him before that he’s too polite.  Zelena doesn’t take hints.  She thinks ‘no’ means ‘try harder’.”

“Ugh,” said Belle, with feeling, and Dorothy grinned.

“Well, I’d better go,” she said.  “If you could check everyone in the senior ward has water, and maybe bring some fresh linens?”

“On it,” said Belle, and squeezed her shoulder before walking briskly away.

She filled the water jugs first, lingering for a moment by old Mr Prentice’s bed. His eyes were closed, his breath rattling in his lungs, white beard twitching a little as his lips moved, and she chewed her lip in worry.  Mary Margaret Blanchard appeared by her side, her dark hair in a pixie cut and her eyes tired.

“He’s just sleeping,” she said.  “The flu’s taken it out of him, but at that age it’s not surprising.”

“I hope he pulls through,” said Belle.  “He’s a sweet old man.”

“He likes to tell the kids stories,” she agreed.  “I heard he used to teach, when he was younger.  Probably before I ever came to Storybrooke.”

“Yeah.”  Belle sighed, hoping that the flu wouldn’t make Mr Prentice pay the ultimate price.  “Well, I guess I’d better get on with things.  I didn’t realise you were working today.”

“Wasn’t supposed to be,” admitted Mary Margaret.  “Looks like they need all hands on deck.  You want help with anything?”

“You could help me strip and remake the beds in Ward 4,” suggested Belle, and Mary Margaret agreed readily.

They hurried off, stopping to collect an armful of linens each, and for ten minutes or so there was silence except for the constant beeping of machinery and cool, dispassionate announcements from the speaker system calling doctors to various wards.  Mary Margaret bundled dirty sheets in her arms, eyeing Belle as she stripped another of the empty beds.

“You know Zelena’s gossiping about you, right?” she said, and Belle sighed.

“Dorothy told me,” she said.  “Apparently I’m having a passionate affair with a flu patient.”

Mary Margaret giggled.

“Well, I’d warn you about the dangers of infection from kissing, but I suspect you already know,” she teased.

Belle bundled up the sheets crossly.

“I really don’t care what she thinks,” she said.  “It was perfectly innocent, and if her mind goes in that direction it’s not my problem.  I just don’t want Stirling to think I had anything to do with it, that’s all.”

“Stirling?”  Mary Margaret looked puzzled, and Belle blushed a little.

“Oh - Dr Gold,” she said hastily, and Mary Margaret’s eyes gleamed.

“First name terms, hmm?”

“Shut up,” said Belle flatly, throwing the balled-up sheets at her to cut off her giggle.  “I don’t think he even meant to tell me, the man was pretty much delirious.”

Mary Margaret smiled.

“I’m teasing,” she said gently.  “And - and I shouldn’t, you’re right.”

She dropped the sheets into the wheeled linen hamper, shaking out a clean one from the pile, and Belle took the other end, helping to spread it over the mattress and tuck it underneath.

“You like him though, right?” said Mary Margaret carefully.  “I mean, I know Zelena has a mean streak a mile wide, but she’s not wrong about that, is she?”

Belle sighed, tucking a corner under and smoothing the sheet.

“I like him,” she admitted.  “I like him a lot, actually.”

“So tell him,” said Mary Margaret, and Belle snorted.

“Right.  When he shows zero interest in me or - or anyone, for that matter?  I don’t think so.”

“You never know until you ask.”

“Until I ask,” agreed Belle.  “And then he turns me down, and it gets horribly awkward, and then I have to be transferred to a different department because the two of us being in the same room as one another just creates an atmosphere no one can stand, and eventually I have to leave town because seeing him everyday is too much for my poor broken heart to take—”

“I was thinking maybe you could just see if he wanted to get a drink after work one day, or something.”

Mary Margaret looked amused by her prophecy of doom, and Belle straightened up with a groan.

“Maybe,” she conceded.  “I’ll wait until he’s better, though.”

“Good,” said Mary Margaret lightly.  “And in two years’ time when you’re stuck between who to choose for your maid of honour, remember that I encouraged you to do this, and Ruby was the one who suggested that terrible blind date your first week here.”

Belle giggled, even as she winced at the memory.

“Agreed.”

[emospritelet]

KoL prompt : Gold has a fever peak during the night and starts to delirate in his sleep. Belle can't help joining him in the bed to hold him and whisper soothing words...

I got what you meant XD

Kiss of Life verse

It was times like this that she wished she kept a spare toothbrush in her bag.  Belle sighed, opening the bathroom cabinet to see if there was at least some mouthwash in there that she could use.  To her surprise there was a new toothbrush in a plastic packet on the top shelf, and she resolved to use it and replace it with another as soon as she could.  Teeth cleaned, she made her way to the bedroom next to Dr Gold’s and crawled beneath the covers.  It was a relief to lie down, the cotton cool against her skin, and she closed her eyes, ready to drift into sleep.  She had called her father earlier in the evening to explain that she was caring for someone, and he had grunted at her down the phone, only interested in where his dinner was going to come from.  She had told him to order takeout, and as she hadn’t heard from him since, she suspected he had fallen asleep in front of the TV after too much booze. Which was his usual habit.

She snuggled a little lower in the bed, sighing as she got comfortable.  Her father could wait for the morning.  If the snow wasn’t too thick, she could always try to head over there before she went for her shift at the hospital.  If not, he’d have to see to himself for a change.  The bed was very cozy, and she could feel herself beginning to drift.  A full night’s sleep would be welcome.

A noise woke her, eyes heavy with sleep, her mind groggy and stupid.  She fumbled around, her surroundings unfamiliar, until she remembered where she was.  There it was again, a muffled cry, a low groan.  Heart thumping, she pushed back the covers and got out of bed, padding to the next room.  She could just about make out Dr Gold’s figure in the low light, and hurried to turn on the bedside lamp.  He was thrashing, his limbs tangled in the sheets, as though he were trying to free himself.  She pressed a palm to his forehead, pulling back with a sharp intake of breath as she felt how high his fever was.  The cloth she had brought him was on the floor, so she took it to the bathroom to wet and wring it out.  When she returned he was still struggling, his breathing shallow and rapid and his eyes unfocused.

“Sorry,” he whispered.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s - it’s okay,” she said gently.  “You just have a high fever, we need to try to bring it down.”

“I’m sorry.”  His voice was breaking, as though he was about to start weeping.  “I’m so sorry!”

“Hey!” she said gently, and he twisted away, turning onto his side.  Clicking her tongue in vexation, she crawled onto the bed beside him, trying to turn him onto his back so that she could apply the damp cloth.  Gold suddenly rolled back towards her and threw his arms around her, crushing her tight.  The cloth was trapped beneath them, water seeping into the sheets.  Belle could barely breathe, suddenly caught up in the heat of his body and the musk of his scent.  He has the flu, monkey brain!  Stop trying to make it sexy!

“So so sorry,” he said again.

“It’s - it’s okay,” she managed, and wiggled an arm free, reaching up to stroke his hair back.  “It’s okay, really.  I’m gonna take care of you.”  

“My fault,” he mumbled.  “All my fault.”

“Well, you did work eighteen hours in a ward full of sick people,” she said dryly.

His grip seemed to loosen a little, and she managed to pull out of his grip, pushing him onto his back.  She laid the damp cloth over his forehead, and he winced at the feel of it.  Belle kept it there despite his jerking head, and after a moment or two his movements slowed and stopped, his breathing steadying a little.  She used the cloth to wipe his ears and neck before laying it back over his brow, and his body seemed to slump back in the bed as he let out a long, shuddering breath.  Belle began unwinding his limbs from the sheets, flicking them up and letting air billow under them before laying them back over him. Gold slowly turned his head towards her, a trickle of water running down his cheek.

“Miss French,” he whispered, as though he was surprised to see her.

“Belle,” she said firmly.  “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he admitted.  “Didn’t you go to bed yet?”

“Um - hours ago,” she said, looking at the clock.  “You woke me up shouting, remember?”

“Did I?”  He ran a hand over his face.  “Nightmare.  Sorry.”

“Well, never mind that.  Drink some water.”

She filled his water glass, and he took it from her, his hand shaking a little. Belle took the cloth from his forehead and helped him sit up a little further to drink.  She wanted to stroke his hair back, to soothe him, but she wasn’t sure he would welcome it, so she merely watched as he gulped at the water.

“Better?” she asked, when he had finished it, and he nodded.

“Thank you,” he said, and hesitated a moment.  “Belle.”

She smiled broadly.

“Well, you’re welcome,” she said.  “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No,” he said, and licked his lips.  “Stirling.”

She blinked.

“What?”

“My name,” he said, dark eyes finding hers.  “Stirling Gold.”

“Oh.”  She beamed at him.  “That’s - unusual.”

He waved a hand, settling back against the pillows.

“My father chose it,” he said wryly.  “The name of his home town.  Probably where I was conceived, too, in all honesty.  Never did have much imagination.”

“Well, I like it,” she announced.  “It suits you.”

He sent her a crooked little grin.

“You’re a very singular young woman, Miss French.”

“Belle,” she said patiently, and his grin widened.

“Sorry.  Force of habit.”

“You’ll get over it,” she said, and got to her feet.  “You’re sure there’s nothing else I can get you?”

“Thank you, but I’ll be alright.”  He set the glass back on the nightstand. “Please, get some rest, I don’t want you getting sick because of me.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

She nodded, and he shuffled down in the bed with a sigh.  Belle eyed him for a moment, but he sent her what she presumed was supposed to be a reassuring smile, and so she nodded, and went back to her own room, hearing the click of his lamp going out.  She crawled into the bed, wriggling in the cool sheets and running a hand over her belly, where she could still feel the pull of desire from being near enough to kiss him.  Any stray thoughts of pretending that she wasn’t falling completely in love with him vanished.  She had it bad.

[emospritelet]

KoLPrompt - hot soup spills on Belle leaving her very... wet.

It’s a cold shower, but the effect is much the same...

Kiss of Life verse

Belle had managed to find ingredients to make a hearty vegetable and lentil soup, and it tasted good, rich with chicken stock and fragrant with thyme and sage.  She found a hand blender in the drawer, and pulsed the soup until it thickened, ladling some into a bowl and setting it on a tray with some buttered bread.  She wasn’t sure that Dr Gold would eat the bread, but if not she could always have it herself.  She had already taken him up some iced water and checked his fever.  He was burning up, but that was only to be expected.  With any luck the medication she had given him would ease his aches and pains, and the soup would give him strength.

She carried the tray upstairs, pushing the bedroom door open with her rear and entering the darkened room.  He was a huddled mass in the blankets, and she transferred the tray to one arm as she fumbled for the switch on the bedside lamp.  Light flooded out, and Dr Gold seemed to wake with a jerk, a flailing arm knocking the tray and sending hot soup all over her.

Gold had been dozing, feverish visions running through his mind, but sudden light dragged him from sleep, his body aching, his mind groggy.  He jerked in protest, and a shriek of pain drove away any lingering drowsiness.  He opened his eyes to see Miss French almost throwing an empty tray onto the floor and peeling off her shirt, exposing her lace bra and the pale skin of her arms and torso, her chest and belly reddened.  There was a smell of savoury - something - in the air.  Vegetable soup?  Oh God…

“I’m sorry!” he gasped.  “Did I - what did I do?”

She was already running from the room, skirt swishing around her legs, and he flopped back against the pillows with a groan, fumbling around for the wet washcloth she had been kind enough to leave across his fevered brow.  The sound of running water started up immediately, and he looked to the side of the bed, spying a discarded tray, an upside-down plate with what looked like bread and butter (butter side down, naturally) and an empty bowl of soup.  Her blouse was on the floor next to it, and he groaned again.  Great.  She cares for you, mops your brow, makes you soup, and as a thank you, you give her second degree burns.  Fucking idiot!

He tried to push himself up, feeling as weak as a day-old kitten.

“Miss French?” he called.  “Are you alright?”

The water was still running, and he pushed back the covers, getting to his feet and almost falling on his arse.  Bloody flu!  He groped for his cane, arms shaking as he got it under him, and stumbled towards the bedroom door just as the sound of the water shut off.  It took him two attempts to turn the handle, and just as he opened the door Belle came back in, a towel wrapped around her beneath her arms and a wide-eyed look of surprise on her face.  Her hair was damp, curls sticking to her skin, and for a moment he wondered what she would look like if he took the towel from her.  If she smiled at him and stepped forward and let it fall, putting her arms around him and raising her head to kiss him.

“I - I hope you don’t mind,” she said apologetically, clutching the towel tighter.  “It - it was really hot, and I knew I had to get cold water on the burns straight away.  Showering was the fastest thing I could think of.”

“Of - of course,” he managed, clutching the cane handle as though it was the only thing sustaining him.  “I’m so sorry.  Clumsy of me.”

“Oh, it was an accident,” she said hastily, looking up at him through thick lashes.  “Really, it’s not so bad.  I think I caught it in time, it just stings a little.”

He nodded, relieved, and she frowned at him.

“And you shouldn’t be out of bed,” she said severely.  “Get back there.  I’ll clean this lot up and get you a fresh bowl.”

“Right,” he said, his tone meek, and shuffled back to bed.

“I’m gonna need to borrow something to wear,” she added.  “You mind if I take your shirt?  I’ll wash it, I promise.”

He froze, a ripple of desire going through him at the thought of her wearing something of his.

“Of course,” he said.  “Take whatever you need.”

[emospritelet]

Candy Striper Belle & Dr. Gold - Dr. Gold needs a bit of convincing to actually end his shift and go home - despite is well crafted arguments. Perhaps there is a unusual staff member that could finally persuade him before he's commanded to go home.

Belle rushed along the corridor, carrying an armful of fresh linen and trying to ignore her aching feet.  An outbreak of the flu had left the hospital understaffed and the medical staff overwhelmed.  For most of the residents of Storybrooke, staying in their own homes and drinking plenty of fluids was enough, but this strain of the flu had been particularly nasty, taking its toll on the weak and sick, the young and the elderly.  She bit her lip as she saw old Mr Prentice being wheeled along on a gurney, eyes closed above his white beard, looking drawn and tired.  She often talked to him in the park where he went to feed the birds, a retired schoolteacher who loved books just as much as she did.

Wishing him a speedy recovery, she hurried along to the children’s ward, pushing open the door and almost knocking Dorothy on her back.  Belle apologised quickly,  but Dorothy shook her head.

“It’s okay, we’ve all been here too long, I think,” she said wearily, and glanced over her shoulder.  “Especially him.  Do me a favour and see if you can get him to go home and get some rest.  The guy’s been here eighteen hours at least.”

Belle peered over her shoulder.  Dr Gold was reading a chart at the end of Neal Nolan’s bed and frowning.  He looked exhausted, but she knew full well that he was always the first to arrive and the last to leave.  Getting him out of there wouldn’t be easy.

“I’m done for the day, anyway,” added Dorothy.  “Gonna go home and try to get a whole six hours of sleep before we do this again.”

She patted Belle’s shoulder and wandered off down the corridor, and Belle hurried over to Dr Gold’s side, setting down the armful of linen.

“You look like death,” she said, not unkindly.

Dr Gold glanced up.  His eyes were dark hollows in his face, his cheeks drawn, but he smiled briefly.

“Miss French,” he said.  “I had no idea you were still here.  Shouldn’t you be at home?”

“You’re one to talk,” she said, and he shrugged.

“There’s too much work here.”

“Yeah, and it’ll still be here after you’ve actually had some rest,” she said firmly.  “You know Dr Whale’s on shift now, right?  Let him take over.”

“With new patients coming in every hour?” he said dismissively.  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

He turned away, hooking the chart over the end of the bed and reaching over to feel Neal Nolan’s forehead.  He frowned again, and Belle sighed.

“Look, you know you have to sleep sometime,” she said reasonably.  “Sleep deprivation can lead to mistakes, everyone knows that.”

“I just need more coffee,” he said repressively.  “If you want to be useful, why don’t you go get me one?  And then you can go home, you look dead on your feet.”

He walked to the next bed, picking up the chart and fumbling it.  Belle caught it before it hit the floor, and he sighed and ran a hand over his face.

“Go.  Home,” she said firmly.  “Eight hours, that’s all I ask.  If you don’t rest, your immune system will be throwing a welcome party for that flu virus, and you know it.  How much good is it gonna do your patients if you’re too sick to tend to them?”

Dr Gold’s face appeared to go through the five stages of grief, but eventually he sighed heavily.

“Fine, you win,” he said, in a defeated tone.  “Get your coat.”

Belle blinked.

“My - my coat?”

“Well, if I’m leaving, so are you,” he said tersely.  “Or are you too stubborn to take your own advice?  I’m driving you home. Meet me outside the main entrance.  Ten minutes.”

He stomped off with an air of irritation, and Belle gaped after him.  He was driving her home?