He didn't like killing. He really didn't. But he did like revenge: revenge and power. And the unfortunate truth concerning those two things is they almost always involve killing. He'd done so much, taken so much, gained so much and lost so much. Because of power, he'd lived for centuries, because of revenge; he'd had a reason to. But he still didn't like killing. He loved the pain, however. He loved watching the fear and rage, the pain and regret, cross his victim's face. All the different emotions, their entire life story swimming through their eyes. Oh, it gave him chills just thinking about it. But then he crushed their heart, the revealing eyes would close and it'd be just him, standing over a still corpse. Then the joy and pleasure seeped from his entire body, leaving him rather tired and very, very bored.

There was no monumental change in his life. He fell in love, he fell to sorrow. He gained more power, he gained more madness. The more he acquired, the more he lost. Round and round it went, never stopping, never varying. Always a monster, never the man.

"You're not a monster."

Who said that? Whoever it was, they were either naïve or just plain stupid. Or both.

"You think you're uglier than you are. That's why you cover all the mirrors."

Not exactly true, but not exactly false. He'd grown quite comfortable in his skin, though his own eyes still freaked him out quite a bit. And he knew he looked good in leather so…

"I think you were lonely."

Lonely… lonely. Well, the voices in his head never shut up, so there was that, but he supposed that really didn't make the situation better. Lonely, huh?

"You were going to tell me about your son."

Searing pain flashed through his entire being. His son, Bae… His Baelfire. That was it, this other voice that didn't belong to him needed to go. And so it did. But then it came back. Not forcefully, not angrily, just a gentle whisper through the dark. When did it get so dark? Why was it so dark? He couldn't remember, wasn't sure if he cared all that much actually. But that voice. He didn't understand. The sound of it made his heart lift, relaxed his tense nerves but at the same time caused him agonizing pain and… was it guilt? Whatever it was it made his stomach churn and head throb. How could it be so wonderful and so awful at the same time?

"I remember… I love you."

"I knew you'd be back."

"…May be flawed, but I love you for it."

"Spent my life finding you."

"Thank you for how you're changing."

"I love always. Always have."

"I love you, Rumple."

"I love you."

Belle. How could he not have known? It was always Belle.

"If he goes, I want to be with him."

Goes? Dies? She was still, after everything- after all the betrayal, the lies and misery- by his side?

He loved revenge and power. He didn't like to kill. He loved to see her smile, hear her laugh. He didn't like her cries. He loved the looks of pain. He hated it on her. He hated crushing the hearts, though he'd done far worse to her. Round and round he continues to go, dancing between monster and man.

"You're not a monster."

She'd said that so long ago. Such a foolish, ignorant, naïve, brave, gorgeous, intelligent, perfect girl. He loved her so much it was almost enough to chase the darkness away. Almost.