Closing her eyes against the pain, she fought for her own inner strength, trying to show it on her face, her determination, but it was no use his voice told her, he could see her own weakness, and he was a master at taking advantage of the weak.

"You don't mean that."

Opening her eyes, Isabelle tried not to let the shock show on her face, she tried for bitterness, but she was fairly certain the only thing that showed was resolve.

She shook her head, no longer able to maintain eye contact with him in the silent street, "I do. I-I mean it."

His cane clicked on the sidewalk, and she looked up in time to see him straighten, gaining strength from her unspoken truth. "No, Belle, you don't. You couldn't. The curse may try to keep us apart, but it cannot change how we feel."

Confusion flit across her face, but no matter what he said, or how clearly he could see the truth on her, she couldn't back down. Izzy would protect him, she had to; no one else mattered as much as he did.

She turned around and started walking home. Over her shoulder she heard his cane, and winced. Didn't he understand, couldn't he see she was doing this all for him? didn't he know he was killing her? She spoke into the night, knowing her words would strike him, "I don't know what you're talking about. It's late Mr. Gold, three o'clock in the morning! Go home!"

Blood pounding in her ears, Izzy made it an entire block, before she realized she couldn't hear his cane. A rush of fear enveloped her heart, and she spun on her heels, looking for him in the street lamps-but the sidewalk behind her was empty, and her heart felt like it was broken into a thousand pieces.

Would he...would he just let her go?

No.

Against everything she knew to be logical and sane, he was suddenly behind her, his warmth pressed instantly against her back as his arms came up and around her shoulders and waist, locking her against him as his face brushed against her hair. His fingers danced against her hip and shoulder, and she couldn't help it when her traitorous body melted against his in the dim shadows between two street lamps. She felt the rise and fall of his chest as he held her, took comfort in the knowledge that he breathed, because she thought for just a quick second, that she once thought he no longer did. But as that thought flashed away, her body reacted, her hands locked onto his arms, her face turned into his shoulder, and she whined, low in her throat as she pressed her back against his chest, wanting to merge fully with him, needing to be a part of him, to give him some of her life.

The hand at her hip, with those talented, nimble fingers, shifted, splays flat against her belly, and a feeling of desire-one stronger than Isabelle had ever felt in her life-overcame her, and her grip on his arm was crushing, just as her face turned, shifted, until her lips were against his neck, and her hot breath was against his skin as she gasped something that sounded like his name.

He nuzzled her hair, his chin with the hint of whiskers, brushed her forehead, sending a thousand little sensations coursing through her that mingled where his hand rested and spread lower, making her knees weak. This was right, this was where she belonged, had always belonged. Here in his arms, arms that were made to hold her, to love her. She fit here, always had, always would. She wouldn't-couldn't-deny it ever again. She belonged to him, and he belonged to her.

His voice was soft and knowing against the shell of her ear, "My greatest fear in all the world is that you wish we'd never met. Ease my heart, Luv, say you didn't mean it."

And she said it, because there wasn't anything more true in all the world, "I didn't mean it. I didn't. I'm sorry."

He shushed her, "Don't apologize, I'm the last person in the world you owe an apology to." She felt a rushing sensation then, and closed her eyes at the dizziness that overcame her for a moment. When she opened them again, they were tucked into the alleyway, deep enough that only indirect light from the street lamps touched them.

Despite how right she felt, a shiver of nerves overcame her and she turned to look back down the alleyway at the only escape route. "M-Mr. Gold?"

"Hm?" was his lazy response. He made no inappropriate moves in their dark retreat, just stood there with his back against the side of some unknown building, with Izzy captured surely in his arms.

"What are you doing?" She'd wanted it to come out with more conviction, but it came out as skeptical and naive as she was.

His slow smile was in his voice as his fingers moved softly against her belly. "Is it not obvious?" He chuckled, low in his chest when she shook her head, the vibrations sending another shiver down her spine. He pulled her an inch closer and she yielded against him. His voice was once again in her ear, and if she didn't know better, in her mind, "I am reminding myself that you did not run down that street and away from me in terror as you should have. That instead, you are the same brave young woman who fascinated me so long ago. I am," and he paused nuzzling his cheek against her hair, "torturing myself by remembering all our wasted time."

Conflict warred within Isabelle, the need to melt into him fighting against the need to protect him. But here, in his arms, he seemed more than capable of protecting himself, leaving her the luxury of indulging in the feeling of warmth that seemed to tingle every one of her nerve endings at his words. But still, this was not his typical behavior, though a part of her always knew-or hoped-it would eventually come to this.

Slowly, hesitating, fearful of breaking this spell and knowing it needed to be broken, she turned in his arms, surprised when his grip did not loosen and he continued to hold their bodies locked together, their lips mere inches apart. Needing space, she tried to take a step back, but he hesitated, a slight frown marring his features, and though he gave her an inch, he relinquished nothing more.

His eyes were intense as he looked down at her, and she felt overwhelmed by the power she suddenly yielded against this great man. He was looking at her as if she could make or break his world, and a part of her thought that she probably could if she chose to do so.

Ducking her head, she looked at the center of his chest, at the small white buttons done up so perfectly on his gray and white striped shirt. On its own, her left hand came up and began to toy with one of the buttons, fingering it lightly. She glanced up at his face, and then back down at her fingers and that single fascinating button. His hands were low at her waist, his thumb beginning to brush lightly when he saw her struggling to articulate herself. She glanced up at the gesture and offered a shy smile, knowing he was trying to help her. With a deep breath, she looked up at him and did her best to put ten years, and three days into perspective.

"I have no idea what you're talking about half the time, do you know that?" She laughed, dropping her forehead to the center of his chest before shaking it back and forth. "You confuse me." She sought out his eyes then, and held them the best she could, comforted by the semi-darkness. "You're cold with everyone, business before relationships, but with me, it's always been different. You should have hurried me out of your shop for thumbing through a book you knew I couldn't afford, but instead, you gave me a place to sit and invited me back."

She paused then, glancing away, "And after that summer, when I was in the hospital, you came to see me every day; a girl who by all rights mooched off you for a year, reading your books, taking you away from customers. I think the only thing I ever gave you for that was-"

"A rose." He said quietly, his eyes soft and warm as he looked into her own.

Isabelle thought back, "That's right, a red rose, for your birthday, though you wouldn't tell me how old you were." She smiled coyly.

"Still won't," he teased, and a brilliant smile broke across Izzy's face. This is how she remembered him, how she saw him, warm, welcoming, teasing, comforting. If only everyone else could see him this way...

"You had no reason to care about me, but you did." She looked away again, her eyes going to her fingers playing with his button. "I know about the loans you have no intention of ever collecting on, the doctors' bills that Granny never worries about and yet always get paid, the battle you fought but lost to keep my father in jail. I know all about those things, but do you know things from my perspective?"

She looked up and saw the confusion in his eyes and shook her head. "I see the kindest, most loving man in all of Storybrooke, and everyone treats him like he's the town pariah. I listen to people whine all day long about high rent and expensive loans. I watch mothers pull their children close when you walk by, and all I want to do is reach out and smack each and every single one of them!" Against her knowledge, her hand had fisted in his shirt, crushing the fabric, she released it, smoothing out the wrinkles.

"Belle-" she shook her head, cutting him off.

Her eyes wouldn't rise, but she said the words anyway, "You, and Ruby, you're the most important people in my life." She scoffed at herself, "Did you know that? I mean, we barely know each other, despite everything that you've done for me, the fact that we see each other every day, I hardly know you, and yet, the thought...of you not...not being there," surprised, Izzy blinked back tears and shook her head, pressing forward. "Ruby makes sense, she's the sister I never had, my best friend; she's supposed to be the most important person in my life. Granny too; even Dr. Hopper. But, they're not. They should be, and they're not." She shook her head again, and this time, looked up, catching and holding his intense eyes. "You are. You're the most important.

"Some days I wake up and I can't wait to see you. I wait all day for you to come in at 5:30. Sometimes those are frustrating days when I wish the clock would just rush forward and you can walk in, and I can lead you to a seat and take your pie order, and other times," she drifted off, losing her nerve and breaking eye contact with him.

Her fingers went back to the button, and her voice was low as she continued. "Other times it's everything I can do to make it through the day. Memories, or just feeling down and horrible overwhelm me, and I tell myself, 'Izzy, only three more hours until you see him.' 'Izzy, only thirty minutes until he gets here, just hold on.' And then you're there, the same time every day, the same constant reminder that everything will be ok, that I'll be ok, that-" She stopped, catching herself before she said the most obvious, but he knew and he said it for her.

"That you're loved." The hand at her waist rose up her back and into her hair, and he used his grip to gently move her eyes back to his own until she could do nothing more than close them and nod her head. His voice was fitting for the darkness that surrounded them, the secrets they were sharing. "You are, Belle. Doubt whatever you like, but never that."

She smiled, though it wasn't until his knuckles brushed away the tear that she realized she had given her body permission to express her joy. She laughed softly, ducking her head and batting at her eyes.

"That's not what I wanted to say to you tonight. I wanted to say that you needed to protect yourself, that you needed to realize that the Mayor is powerful and dangerous, and that you always turn a blind eye to the danger you put yourself in whenever it concerns me. I'm supposed to be a better person and tell you to stay aw-"

His finger came up and pressed against her lips. "Ah, but we said, you weren't going to say that."

She nodded, drawing his hand down until she was holding it between them, against her chest. "She's dangerous. You may not think so, but she is." She sobered, raising her face to look him deeply in the eyes, "You heard what I said, how I think about you. I meant it. And I can't bear to think that something could happen to you because of me, because of your, well your weakness for me.

"The Mayor, this town, it's dangerous to you, and if you won't take steps to protect yourself, then you make me do stupid things like try to protect you myself, and I'm obviously pretty pathetic at that, I mean I was trying to push you away and here I am-"

"In my arms, where you belong." He said it with such conviction, such absolute knowledge that Isabelle had to blink at his intensity. He looked down at her and shook his head in a sad way, "Belle, my beautiful, brave, kind, Belle, you need to believe me when I tell you, as long as you never believe a thing Regina tells you, as long as you stay away from her at all times, as long as you never again try to push me away," he gave her an intense reprimanding look, "Then I can guarantee that you and I are both safe, from Regina, from the people of this town, from everyone."

She shook her head, "How can you say that, you don't know what everyone's thinking or scheming, or planning or insinuating? There's a lot of insinuating that goes on in this town, Mr. Gold, most of it involving us, or Mary Margaret and David, but mostly us."

He smiled, a grin that both warmed her heart and shot a bolt of fear through her for anyone that ever tried to go against him. "One of the perks of being as...affluent as I am, Belle, is that little things like town gossip and schemers are no threat."

Pressing a hand to his chest she shook her head, "That cocky arrogance is going to be your downfall if you're not careful! You can't afford to be cavalier about this! The Mayor threatened you tonight, and she did it by going through me! You might be able to protect yourself, but you can't protect yourself and me at the same time. Please, I'm begging you, you need to protect yourself!"

Shaking her head she backed up, feeling his fingers glide across her body as he let her go. She turned around, taking a few steps, but never leaving the security of the dark world they'd created. "Maybe if you just didn't come around for a while, just until things settled down, maybe Regina would get frustrated and go away. She's never been that interested in me before, maybe if you just," she turned around and glanced up at him, "acted more like your old self, she wouldn't even think twice about me." A brilliant idea struck her, and Isabelle rushed back to him, hands to his chest, "What if we just pretended we were angry with each other! I could pretend that, well that I yelled at you, and you could pretend you found another..."

The words died on her lips, the thought of him finding someone else making her heart pound and her world blacken.

Warm, sure hands came up, encircling her arm for support and her cheek for comfort. He tipped her head up, saw her eyes and shook his head. "Impossible, Dearie, the thought of you pretending to be angry with me hits far too close to home; and the part you suggest I play is beyond my acting abilities. Better I stay close to you, than far, for comfort and for my own sanity."

She glanced up at him, hearing the sincerity of his words. These were his confessions, spoken in riddles but spoken all the same. She could play coy, or allow herself to pretend at insecurities, but the truth was, Isabelle was a bright young woman, and she knew a confession of love when she'd heard one. These words were his, spoken by a man unused to sharing his feelings, but wanting to, needing too, none the less. It was endearing, and so, she didn't ask for more.

Nodding, she glanced once again at the button between her fingers. "What are we going to do?"

Above her, he shook his head, "Nothing. At least, nothing different."

She smiled, looking up at him coyly, "Nothing different? You don't really mean, nothing different do you?"

His echoing smile was slow but brilliant as his hand came up to brush a stubborn curl from her forehead, "Unless you had something else in mind?"

Smiling she leaned forward, resting her head against his chest, feeling his fingers dance along the back of her neck. She was content to just rest here, soaking up the monumental discoveries this night had brought her. There were no more doubts between them, his intentions clear. She wouldn't be left wondering and dreaming about a possible future, but instead a probable one.

Eventually, she pulled back, smiling shyly up at him as his fingers slipped from her neck, down her arm and to her hand, holding it lightly. She looked down at their interlocked fingers and smiled to herself before looking up to see him looking down at their hands as well.

With a sigh, she broke their easy silence. "I need to go to bed, I'm exhausted, and I'm pretty sure the only reason you won this argument is because I can no longer reason."

He chuckled, squeezing her hand, "Your wairiness is my gain, Dearie. But perhaps you're right, best we get you inside." With a smile, he lifted his cane from its forgotten place against the wall, and pulled her forward, not relinquishing her hand.

As they broke the cocooning darkness of the alley, Izzy couldn't help looking down the street for any watching eyes. She knew he caught her, but refrained from comment, and so she followed next to him as they walked hand in hand the remaining block to the gate that separated Granny's from the rest of the world.

At the gate she turned towards him, and the moment might have been awkward, but she had no expectations, so when he stepped forward and laid a soft kiss at her temple, she smiled shyly, and walked through the gate he held open for her. At the top of the stairs she turned around and saw him standing there. For the first time his expression was unsure, nearly fearful, and though she didn't understand it, she did her best to reassure him.

"I'm making the apple pie tomorrow. See you at 5:30 for a slice?" Izzy watched his unease melt away at her smile, and he nodded before closing the short gate.

She returned the gesture, and then turned around, slid her key into the lock and walked inside. But she couldn't help turning around, her eyes seeking and holding his, as she closed the door and latched it.

In the absolute darkness of the entryway, Izzy pressed her back against the door and took a deep breath. Then she started to count.

Her smile was brilliant and pleased when she got all the way to a hundred before she heard the distinctive sound of his cane taking him home.

On light feet, she walked up the stairs and entered her bedroom, not noticing the hushed tones and soft light coming from Granny's room at the other end of the hall.