Title: of memories, teacups and roses
AUTHOR: obisgirl
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Belle, Mr. Gold
Summary: Belle slowly remembers.
Spoilers: Episode 12, Post "Skin Deep" & "Dreamy"
Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time characters are property of Disney and Adam Horowitz, Edward Kitsis. This fanfic is for pure entertainment.

She remembers, fractures of her memory coming back in pieces like a puzzle. Belle remembers falling after trying to pull the drapes from the wall, the odd look he gave her after she landed in his arms. She remembers watching the spindle as he wove straw to Gold, the way he said that spinning helped him forget.

She also remembers the bad memories; the ones of him, gripping her arms so tight, yelling at her before throwing her into her 'room,' and locking the door behind him. She doesn't know what happened after he locked her up. But when he comes back to her cell, declaring that he doesn't want her anymore and is free to leave, Belle knows it is a lie.

But she isn't about to let him have the last say.

"You were freeing yourself!" she cries, "Now you've made your choice. All you've all is an empty heart and a chipped cup,"

She didn't bother waiting for his rebuttal, promptly leaving the cell. She will enjoy her freedom because if her mind lingers on what could have been, her freedom will be in vain.

~~

The only reason Belle stopped at the tavern was because she was tired of walking; it was long day's journey from Rumpelstiltskin's castle back to her village. She sits alone in a corner, barely touching the ale she ordered. She doesn't know how much time passes but the tavern isn't quiet anymore: there's a group of eight dwarfs at a nearby table, merrily enjoying their meal and heartily celebrating their days work in the mines.

All of them, except one.

She remembers eavesdropping on part of the dwarf's conversation and chuckled when "he" muses aloud that maybe he needs one of the other dwarfs, the one they call 'Doc' to look at him.

"It's not in his head. It's in his heart. You're in love," she says, both dwarfs turning to her. The elder dwarf looks bewildered.

"Trust me, I know love and you're in it," she continues.

"What's it like?" the other dwarf asks, genuinely curious about the matter.

Belle sighs. "It's the most wonderful and amazing thing in the world. Love is hope; it fills our dreams and if you're in it, you need to enjoy it. Because love doesn't always last forever," she says.

"But if love is so great, why do I feel so bad right now?"

Belle smiles sourly. Love is like that. Love makes you smile when it fills your heart and cry when it is empty.

And Belle's heart is empty.

~~

Her heart feels differently when she is with Mr. Gold. Belle can't figure out why this man she barely knows reached out his hand to her and offered up his place for her to stay. But his house is a better option than staying in the mental hospital.

It's big, dark and beautiful. Everything looks beautiful to Belle now that she doesn't have to look at empty walls. He lets her stay in the empty guest room and offers to take her shopping the next day for clothes of her own. The only clothes she has is the gown from the hospital.

Everything else that she has is stored away somewhere in the hospital, and the last thing she wants is to go back there and ask for it.

She takes a shower that evening, the first warm shower she'd had in a long time and relishes the feeling of tiny droplets falling on her skin. Belle hopes that Gold won't mind her taking a very long time but it is nice to be able to feel something as sweet and rewarding as a shower.

After she's done, she's shocked to find him waiting outside for her, leaning on his cane and smiling at her.

"Enjoy your shower love?" he asks, teasingly.

Belle smiles, a deep blush covering her cheeks. "Um yes, thank you," she says, sneaking into her room to dry off her hair.

~~

Belle doesn't think much of Mr. Gold's hovering presence. Creepy wasn't quite the word to describe him. How could she be heartless towards the man who gave her back her freedom? But she did feel as if she owed him something for his trouble. He didn't have to open up his home to her but he did and had been nothing but kind to her. Later that evening, she sits quietly with him for dinner, enjoying some honey chamomile tea.

He has a nice tea set. All white and pretty.

She thanks him for the tea and dinner, then stands up to clear her dishes but he reaches over, grabbing her wrist.

"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it," he says, picking up the dishes instead and taking them to the sink to be washed.

Belle doesn't know what to say. She stands quietly, going to her room. It isn't until she closes the door that she begins to feel something familiar but quickly brushes it off.

~~

Her dreams are dark that night. She remembers arguing with a man, pleading with him to believe her but he shouts back furiously, inaudible words she can't understand. He throws her into a dark room and leaves her there. Belle awakes with a fright, panting heavily in bed.

She needs something to calm her nerves so she finds her slippers and a robe, and walks out to the kitchen.

Belle vaguely remembers where he keeps the tea pot. She looks through the cabinets for them and after a moment, finds the tea pot and the teacups, lined up in neat rows of two. She smiles. She had no idea he was so organized. Belle reaches inside the cabinet to get one of the tea cups and then stops, noticing a chipped cup all the way in the back of the cabinet.

She doesn't want to make any noise so she quietly sets the other teacups aside and removes the chipped cup. Belle studies it curiously, wondering why he would bother to keep a chipped teacup hidden away behind the others. She sighs, putting it back where she found it and places the other ones in the position she found them, taking the one in the front to make herself tea.

Belle turns around slowly, slightly startled to see him standing there in black pajamas.

"Oh gods!" she cries, nearly falling but he steps forward quickly, steadying her. Belle smiles thankfully at him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he says, "I was curious why you woke up suddenly,"

"I had a nightmare," she says, turning to put some water in the teapot. Gold takes the teapot and fills it the rest of the way, while he directs her to sit down. "Thank you,"

"It's no problem," he says, fixing the tea. "Was the nightmare the only reason why you couldn't sleep?"

Belle rubs her forehead. "I don't know to be honest. I'm still remembering things but it's very confusing at the moment. I don't know which memories are real and which are fake," she muses, looking curiously at Mr. Gold. There's something familiar about him.

Suddenly, the teapot starts whistling and it pulls Belle out of her reverie. Mr. Gold offers Belle her cup first before settling down himself and pouring his own. "It'll all come back in time, dear," he says, "You need to be patient,"

"I don't know how you can be," she muses, suddenly regretting that she said that. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful. You've done so much to help me and I feel like I need to repay you for your kindness, but..." Belle stops herself, seeing the eagerness in his eyes for her to continue. "I don't know what I'm talking about,"

Gold smiles. "Don't worry. It'll come to you, dear," he says, sipping his tea. "And you don't need to repay me, Belle. You, staying here with me, accepting my help, is enough for me,"

"But why?" she questions, leaning forward, "Why did you let me come here and stay with you?"

Gold stiffens and he closes up again.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to overstep but it has made me wonder," she continues.

"Enjoying your tea?" he asks instead.

'You're never going to tell me, are you, Mr. Gold?' she thinks. Belle sighs, sipping more of her tea, feeling more lost than when she woke up.

Their routine continues. Tea is always ready when she wakes up, along with a hearty breakfast. But now, her breakfast is accompanied by a lonely rose. Belle ignores the tea, going over to admire the sweet rose. He gives her a rose everyday and before the end of two weeks, the roses fill a blue vase in her room.

Belle never questions why he gives her roses but every time, she sees a new one waiting for her, her heart flutters and it makes her forget her nightmares.

Her nightmares, still haunt her, but Belle refuses to let them ruin her sleep. If she remembers, she remembers. If she doesn't, then she will make new memories in her new life.

~~

The nightmares wreak vengeance on her sleep. It's too much for Belle; she wants to get up and run to the kitchen and make herself chamomile tea but for whatever reason, she resolves to lie there, watching it all play out.

The images are like scenes from a play. As she goes through them, they start to make sense. She smiles, thankful for the first time that something is making sense in her life. Belle follows the images, slowly piecing together the events into chronological order.

She remembers leaving her father and her friends to live with a strange man, who delights in making deals and spinning straw into gold.

She remembers their brief touches, her fingers lightly brushing with his over tea time. Funny, she never remembered those small, intimate moments as anything significant but they're important to her now.

Belle remembers when she dropped into his arms and he looked bewildered at her, unsure himself how she would react to their closeness. Any other woman would have been repulsed but she isn't.

She remembers him offering her a rose, his gold skin suddenly sparkling brighter than she remembered. She curtsies, accepts the rose and they go back to the main room. She tells him a story about how she always wanted to be brave and see the world but that didn't work out, but she did save her village. Then something unexpected happens, he offers her the chance to leave and says bluntly, that he expects to never see her again.

Belle doesn't understand why he would let her go but it slowly becomes clear to her later. But her happiness is short-lived. He shuns her, demanding that she leave for good this time because his power means more to him than her love.

"You were freeing yourself, Rumpelstiltskin," she cries, before abruptly storming out.

~~

At that same moment, Belle opens her eyes, his name lingering on her lips, "Rumpelstiltskin,"

~~

Belle doesn't know how to broach the subject with Mr. Gold the next morning. Gold knows that something is bothering her because she's barely touched her food and tea, but doesn't want to press her about the matter even though Belle wishes that he would.

She remembers everything.

But she needs reassurance that she isn't crazy.

"Belle, are you all right dear?" he asks suddenly and Belle sighs, happily. Her change in mood confuses him.

"Something happened to me last night," she confesses, carefully choosing her words.

"Did you have another nightmare?"

She smiles sourly. "I did but I didn't let it bother me this time," she affirms, "When I was in the hospital, I wasn't sure what to think of my nightmares. I couldn't talk to anyone about them, so it kept it all inside. I committed every detail to memory, regardless if they were true or not because I knew one day, it would make sense to me,"

Gold smiles at her thoughtfully. "Memories can be delicate," he offers, "that's why you have to be patient with them,"

"I know that now," Belle continues; she wants to blurt out that she knows everything but isn't sure if that is a good idea. This is Rumpelstiltskin after all. He is a dangerous man, feared in all the realms but not even, enchanted bars could keep him locked up. His power reaches far beyond that. "Patience is key,"

"Yes, it is," he says, the words weighing heavily in his chest.

How long have you been a patient man? Belle wonders, watching him curiously.

Belle sighs, glancing over at the rose he left out for her. She picks it up, inhaling its sweet scent. "The vase in my room is nearly full of roses, I'm going to need another one," she muses, smiling sweetly at him.

"I'll get you a bigger vase," he says, "And you can place it by your window so you can look at them when you read,"

"You know me so well," Belle whispers, "I barely know anything about you, Mr. Gold,"

Gold blushes. "There's not much to tell miss," he offers.

"I feel like I should know something about you," Belle continues, "I am living in your house after all and we see each other every day, eat breakfast together everyday and share tea time together. How can you not tell me anything about yourself?"

"I'm a private man," Gold continues, hoping that she'll drop the subject.

Belle leans forward. "I don't buy that," she says, "I know there's a reason why you brought me into your home,"

Gold studies her more closely but Belle doesn't back down, which is so typical of her. "I'm a lonely man, miss," Gold muses, "and I like the company,"

"Oh, I don't doubt that," she reasons, "But there's something else, isn't there?"

"Between us?"

Belle shrugs. She wants to say that 'maybe there was once,' but decides not to. She looks again at the rose sitting on the table next to her tea cup. "There's something about you, Gold," she says.

Mr. Gold takes another sip of his tea, which is no longer hot, so he sets it aside. "I can't give you the answers you need," he adds, "That, you have to figure out on your own,"

"Why did you have to be so cruel?" she cries, dumbfounded that he would lie to her face about whom he was...who he is!

Mr. Gold stands abruptly, picks up his dishes and walks towards the sink. Before Belle even knows it, she angrily whispers those three words he dreads hearing. "You're a coward!"

Gold turns back to her, shocked that she would say that about him. Then, he remembers another time and place where she called him a coward. She was right about him then but this was different. He truly wants her to remember but on her own.

Rumpelstiltskin worried if he shoved their fairytale history in her face that it would be too much for her to take and she would leave. He didn't want that, so he figured that the "hands off" approach worked better.

"I'm not a coward," he defends, wanting to say 'dearie' but leaves off that part. "I won't lie to you though; I do want you to remember but for my own personal reasons,"

Belle sighs, frustrated that he isn't 'playing' her game. It isn't a game but she wants to hear him admit who he truly is and why they aren't back there in fairytale land. Belle spent almost 30 years locked up inside the mental hospital, questioning her sanity every day and all she wants to know now, is why.

"You can't hide your motivation forever," Belle continues.

Gold shrugs, feeling very challenged by that statement. All he does is hiding; hiding his true memories from Regina and the people of Storybrooke. If he could hide who he was from them for 28 years, he could hide from her.

"You know my motivation for helping you," he says, "I like the company," his eyes drift to her cleavage for a moment, smiling and then looks at her, "and I'm a lonely man,"

Belle is fuming. She cannot believe he is still refusing to acknowledge...

She gets up suddenly, storms over towards him and kisses him forcibly. He doesn't push her away, instead pulls her closer, pushing her breasts tightly against his chest. The kiss is nothing like their first kiss; it's raw and fiery, passionate doesn't even suffice to describe it.

Belle pulls away slowly, feeling flustered that she acted so impulsively but Gold really isn't surprised.

He stares at her, unsure if she's going to rip off his clothes next and have her way with him right there in the kitchen. "What do you want from me?" he asks.

Belle smiles and there's a curious recognition that occurs to him.

"I want to hear you say it," she demands.

He wants to push her away but she's cornered him, literally. "I don't know what you're talking about," he says.

"You know what I'm talking about," Belle continues; she doesn't want to beg him but she needs to know that she isn't crazy. "I need to hear you say it,"

Mr. Gold sighs. Belle is – has always been determined; some would call her stubborn but it's one of the things that he loves about her.

He doesn't say anything and Belle sighs, hurt that he would deny her this one simple truth. "You're never going to tell me, are you?" she muses, "All I want to know is the truth. I thought of all people, you would have been more honest with me but I guess I was wrong about that assumption,"

She wants to cry but not in front of him so she turns; only when her back is turned, tears start falling.

Mr. Gold sighs. He doesn't want to hide from her anymore; he can't because she does deserve to know the truth. He owes her that. "I didn't want to force this on you, if it meant that I would lose you again. I didn't want to put your life at risk like that but now, I see it would be much worse if I kept the truth from you and still put you in danger and if something happened to you - again - if the she ever got her hands on you..." he cries.

Belle doesn't move.

"It would kill me to lose you again but I would feel a deeper pain if you left never knowing the truth because you deserve that, after all that time locked away,"

Mr. Gold sighs. "The truth is...I wanted you here because I thought maybe you being around me would help you remember and perhaps...rekindle some old flame that I thought had died long ago," he says.

How do you know it hasn't died? Sshe wonders, slowly facing him. "It isn't enough," she cries and turns to leave again.

"Rumpelstiltskin," he breathes out of desperation.

That name freezes Belle in place and she turns back to him, a big smile spreading across her face as she runs towards him, kissing him so hard he almost loses his balance. It isn't like the kiss from earlier; the soft touch of her lips on his feel like the first time she kissed him and he knows, realizes what she's been trying to ask from him.

"How long have you known?" he manages.

She stands close enough for him to trickle his fingers through her hair. He can see her, the real her for the first time since she arrived from the hospital. The vibrant, stubborn, bookish, giggly Belle he once knew.

Belle smiles. "My memory is like a puzzle, my love. All I needed was to let the pieces fall into the right places,"

"There you are, dearie," he whispers.

"There we are,"

The End