Chapter Text
It's a long, long road
From which there is no return
While we're on the way to there
Why not share?
And the load
Doesn't weigh me down at all
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
—"He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother" by the Hollies
Mr. Gold had many regrets in his life. He regretted not divorcing his wife sooner. He regretted that he’d never told his father off before he died. He regretted not spending more time with his son.
He regretted letting slip to the librarian, Belle French, that his long lost cousin was flying in from California to stay with him for the foreseeable future while he faced deportation.
“Are you sure I can’t stay?” Belle asked, leaning against the wooden part of his display counter and staring out the windows like Lachlan might walk through them.
“Why are you even here in the first place?” Gold snapped without any bite. Belle just turned and grinned at him. She had never minded his foul moods, and had indeed discovered that ignoring him was the easiest way to get past his prickly barriers. He’d have been annoyed if he wasn’t besotted.
“I came to tell you your book is in,” she said. She’d been in his shop for almost half an hour and hadn’t mentioned a book at all.
“Why don’t I believe you?”
She reached into her purse and pulled out a book, and indeed it was the one he’d been in line for for six months. Archie had been reading it since April.
“It’s all checked out to you,” she said. “Figured I’d save you the trip.”
The trip in question was a walk across the street. Gold made it probably every other day. Any day, really, that Belle didn’t make the reverse trip. She’d returned to Storybrooke a few years ago for the first time since moving for college. Gold hadn’t known her when she was young, but when she came back to fill the librarian position, which had been vacant for almost three years, he’d been her landlord for the first six months while the city brought the apartment above the library up to code.
After that, she’d stop by just to chat. They might have been friends.
“How thoughtful.” He took the book and stuck it under the counter. He didn’t need his estranged cousin trying to start up a conversation.
“Why did you say he was coming again?” Belle asked.
“I didn’t.”
She frowned at him, chewing her red lip, and while he was usually a little less tight-lipped than normal around Belle, on this occasion, he had said nothing. He hadn’t even told her Lachlan’s name.
“How can I do damage control for you if you won’t tell me anything?”
Gold pursed his lips, but suddenly, his temples were sweating. “I didn’t ask you to do damage control,” he said. “What makes you think I need it?”
Lachlan was an alcoholic, about to be deported back to Scotland after a DUI, but he hadn’t told Belle that either. What did she know?
“I mean, you’re clearly doing your cousin a huge favor,” Belle said. “I thought you might be worried about your fearsome reputation.”
“Ah.” Under normal circumstances, he might have smiled at that. Now, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but stare at the window with her.
“Well?” Belle asked.
“I don’t need my reputation salvaged.” He picked up his phone, but the last text from Lachlan was the one telling him that the car had retrieved him from the Portland airport and he was on his way. “I assure you, he’s not staying with me for free.”
Belle raised an eyebrow. “What’s he giving you?”
Finally, Gold’s bubble of stress popped enough for him to purse his lips at her, and if he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought that was her goal all along, because her eyes sparkled. “That’s none of your business, Miss French.” It also was none of his, apparently, because he had not been able to think of a single thing to ask Lachlan for. So instead, he simply hadn’t.
She shook her head, then heaved a sigh and pushed herself off the counter. “Fine, I’ll leave you alone. But you’ll call me if you need me?”
If he was being honest, he didn’t want her to go. Any time she was in his shop was better than any time she wasn’t, but he couldn’t handle seeing Lachlan again for the first time in decades in addition to behaving normally around Belle, so she had to leave. It was the same reason he’d sent a car company for him instead of Dove.
But she was giving him a knowing smile, shrugging into her coat, and he nodded.
“If for some reason I need you, I’ll call you.”
Satisfied, she smiled once more and then left the shop. If she’d been truly determined, she could have found a place near the library to peek through his window, and he couldn’t have stopped her. For a secretive man who valued his privacy above all else, he would do well to invest in better blinds.
He checked the phone again, but of course, Lachlan had not updated him. Who knew if he’d even brought things he needed? Gold had paid for two checked bags for him out of the kindness of his heart, but Lachlan had probably used both of them on guitars or something.
Cousins was a bit of a stretch, as far as Gold was concerned. They looked quite closely related, but they were second or third cousins at best. Before last week, he had almost forgotten about Lachlan. He hadn’t seen him since they were both emigrating to America in the nineties, and he’d forgotten to reach out when Jed overdosed because he was in the middle of a contentious divorce himself, and that was that. Since Gold had always been the black sheep of the family, he hadn’t considered that Lachlan wouldn’t just go back home when his “career” as a rockstar failed. It wasn’t until he released his awful solo album that Gold even realized he was still in America.
But Gold had never been a family man unless it came to his own son because his family had never wanted anything to do with Malcolm Gold’s bastard, so he’d seen no point in communicating. He could count the number of times he and Lachlan spoke after age twelve on one hand.
And then last week, Lachlan had called him. Gold was a U.S. citizen, had been since just before his contentious divorce, and apparently, Lachlan needed help.
So, against his better judgment, he’d bought him a one-way plane ticket. He’d agreed to put him up in the big house he’d lived in alone for a decade. He’d paid for a car to drive him to Storybrooke from Portland.
Then, he’d internet stalked him. He hadn’t found much except a podcast that he couldn’t bear to listen to. If he’d told Belle all this, she probably would have wanted to help him sort his thoughts and feelings, and also listen to the podcast. Instead, he buried it all and threw himself into work—or, now that Lachlan was in transit, he buried it and stared out the window.
A town car pulled up and Gold swallowed. That had to be it. He stood, only vaguely wondering whether Belle was watching from her own window, and picked up his cane.
A man who could have been his own brother got out the back, wearing jeans and a denim jacket that did not go together and carrying a backpack. Gold gripped his cane tight. No guitars so far.
The driver took two modest bags out of the trunk, and then Lachlan patted his pockets down before shrugging awkwardly, and Gold realized he should have mentioned that he’d pre-tipped the service so he wouldn’t have to worry about it.
The car drove off and Lachlan, with his backpack and two bags, stood shivering in the chilly Maine October, staring at the pawn shop. The blinds were half open, but it was much harder to see in than it was to see out when it was sunny. He probably didn’t realize that Gold had been watching.
A better host, a nicer man would have gone to help Lachlan with his bags. Instead, Gold stood behind his counter, gripping the cloth he used to clean fingerprints off the glass.
After a minute, Lachlan took a deep breath, hefted the duffel over his shoulder and extended the handle of the rolling one, then walked to the door.
Gold stared. Lachlan hadn’t looked up and through the windows yet, so he might not have realized that Gold could definitely see him now. If he’d lifted his gaze, they’d have made eye contact.
But of course, if he did that, then he’d know that Gold had just been there, staring at the door instead of helping, and the longer it went on, the worse it would be. Someone had to put them out of their misery, and as the more responsible and well-adjusted one, it was apparently going to have to be Gold.
He walked around the counter and, as he approached the door, Lachlan finally looked up and met his eyes.
Neither of them smiled. Gold opened the door in silence, already feeling himself falling into his familiar social graces.
“Hey,” Lachlan said, finally putting on a smile that, if not warm, was at least friendly. “It’s good to see you.”
Gold didn’t care for lying, even as a pleasantry. It was nothing to see Lachlan except bad memories of his childhood.
“Did you have a good flight?” he asked instead, stepping aside so that Lachlan could lug his bags in.
“Don’t know, took a sleeping pill, slept right through it.” He cracked another smile, as though they shared a joke between them. Gold would never have taken a sleeping pill on a plane—what if someone saw him drool in his sleep and laughed at him?
“If you’d like, you can put your bags in my car now. I’ll drive you to the house in a bit.”
He should have had the car bring him directly to the house. It would have been the sensible plan, and Gold was nothing if not sensible, but something had stopped him. The shop was safe, neutral ground. Having their reunion here would be less fraught.
“Sure, thanks.” Lachlan smiled, and Gold limped around him, careful not to touch any of his bags. There didn’t appear to be one single musical instrument—surprising.
Lachlan followed him out to the Cadillac parked out front, and Gold popped the trunk for him, standing back and letting him throw everything in.
“I have to say, I was surprised when the driver pulled up to a pawn shop.” Lachlan heaved his duffel in. “I thought maybe he’d got the wrong address. I was getting ready to call you.”
“I spend most of my time at the shop.” He glanced toward the library, but he was too far to see if Belle was spying on them. “It was easier.”
Lachlan shut the trunk and brushed his hands together to look at him. “I’m surprised you own a pawn shop. I didn’t realize pawnbroking was so lucrative.” He gestured to Gold. One piece of Gold’s suit probably cost more than Lachlan’s entire outfit.
Unless it was designer, for some reason. Lachlan had come from LA. Gold wouldn’t have been surprised to find that dressing like a pauper had cost him as much as a plane ticket.
“I get by,” Gold said. If he stayed long enough, Lachlan would find out that Gold’s income was mostly from rent and investments, and the occasional contract law job.
They stared at one another, Gold stoic, Lachlan smiling awkwardly.
“Right,” Lachlan said. “Right, well, thanks for having me. I really appreciate it.”
Gold nodded. Maybe he should have let Belle stay. She would have, at the very least, kept the awkward silences away.
“I’ll just take you now,” he said. If he dropped Lachlan off at home, then he could spend the rest of the afternoon preparing to see him again.
They both climbed into the car in silence, and then Gold started forward. He lived on the outskirts of Storybrooke, but the town itself was so small, it was still only about five minutes away.
“Do you mind if I turn the radio on?” Lachlan asked.
Gold had never stopped to think whether he minded someone turning his radio on. He hadn’t had a passenger in his car in ten years.
“Go ahead.”
Lachlan turned it on, and Gold could sense his disappointment when NPR started. Gold liked the same music that Lachlan did—well, some of it, probably—but he couldn’t bring himself to tell him he could change it. It was just a local news segment right now, not even a symphony.
“So,” Lachlan said.
“We’re almost there,” Gold said before he could ask any questions.
“Great.”
They rode in silence, and then Gold pulled into his driveway and Lachlan whistled.
“Picturesque,” Lachlan said. He was not wrong.
“Thank you.”
He turned the car off and, once it was clear Lachlan was waiting for him to move, opened his door and started for the trunk. Again, he probably should have helped him, but once he’d unlocked the back, he headed inside.
“Don’t worry about me,” Lachlan called. “I’ve got it under control.”
If he told Belle tomorrow that he hadn’t helped with any of the bags, she would probably yell at him. In fact, if she could see how he was behaving, she would be yelling at him for weeks.
He unlocked the front door and held it open, waiting for Lachlan to lug his duffel, his suitcase, and his backpack across the driveway and then up the stairs.
“Wow.” Lachlan’s eyes widened, and Gold again didn’t know how to react. “I know some cunts in LA who would kill to have your stained glass windows.”
For the first time, Gold allowed himself the smallest hint of a grin.
“I get that a lot.”
He led him inside and then stopped at the foot of the stairs. He should probably help him up, but now he really couldn’t do much. Of course, he lived alone, he used these stairs every day and carried things up and down them, but no one saw him. No one watched him struggle.
He would let Lachlan decide. Stepping aside, he gestured up the stairs. “I’ll follow behind.”
Lachlan cast the stairs a grimace, but then hoisted his duffel and his backpack. “Mind if I leave this one down here?”
The wheeled suitcase was the one Gold least wanted to carry, so he wouldn’t offer. “Not a problem.”
He showed Lachlan to the guest room, a room furnished in warm grays where he often stored spare fabric and thread. He’d cleared all that out and moved it to his workroom, and now Lachlan had an empty closet, dresser, and nightstand.
“Lovely,” Lachlan said. “Lots of light.”
Gold nodded. His house did get lots of light. Unfortunately for anyone who liked light, Gold kept the curtains drawn most of the time.
“Well, I’ll let you get settled in. There’s food in the fridge. Bathroom is down the hall, towels in the closet. I’ll be home in a few hours.”
“Whoa, wait, you’re leaving?” Lachlan ran a hand through his hair. “I just got here.”
What was he supposed to do? He hadn’t seen a relative in thirty years, and now one was living with him. Didn’t Lachlan understand that Gold was doing the best he could?
“Shop closes at eight,” he said, though the shop didn’t really have set hours. Everyone knew Gold was there most of the time.
“I’ll come with you.” Lachlan unzipped his duffel, revealing a scant amount of t-shirts and button downs and plaid. “Just let me change my shirt.”
Gold left while Lachlan was unbuttoning, not sure that he could survive seeing his long lost cousin change clothes. It was too casual. Too friendly. They were barely even acquaintances.
Lachlan changed into a t-shirt and flannel with his jean jacket on top and met him at the car. Gold made note to ask him if he had a coat. It was only going to get colder.
“So, what can I do while you work?” Lachlan asked.
Gold had signed up to be room and board, not a travel guide. He had no idea. He should have let Belle meet him.
“What do you usually do?” Gold asked.
Lachlan raised an eyebrow. “There a bar around?”
Thank god. An activity he didn’t have to be a part of.
“The Rabbit Hole,” he said. “It’s an easy walk from the shop. Can’t miss it.”
Lachlan smiled. “Perfect.”