He was going home today.

Studying his reflection in the hospital room mirror, his hands trembled slightly as he fumbled with his tie. It was the first time in months that he'd donned one of his flawless Armani suits. But he was finally leaving Storybrooke General Hospital and preparing to face his new life.

Who was this stranger in the mirror? This three centuries-old being who was no longer the Dark One, no longer the most powerful sorcerer in all the realms. Someone with an addiction to power—power he no longer had. He winced, remembering the weak, pathetic spinner who had cowered and kissed the refuse-coated boots of nobles. Suddenly he was back to being a nobody—with no idea of how to move forward.

Many times he had called magic a crutch he could not walk without. He craved it, needed the protection it offered as a way to cover up the damaged goods beneath. Weak-kneed, he trembled, gripping the head of his cane for support. He was crippled in every way.

Well, he hadn't actually tried to use magic since he'd been freed from the dagger. Perhaps it was still in him somewhere. But he wasn't ready to try.

He wondered how he would protect himself and Belle from his many enemies. He still had his money, of course. But would it be enough? Would he be enough? "I just wanted you," Belle had told him. But he had never been able to believe it.

He hated introspection, had spent far too much time pondering regrets. He itched to feel his spinning wheel beneath his fingers. It had been ages since he had been able to spin, to forget. And even that, his one solace, had been tainted by his captivity.

Footfalls sounded behind him. Belle. Her reflection appeared in the mirror, reminding him of one of the best and worst days of his life. Had it only been 7 months ago?

He'd been released from Zelena's thrall and his Belle had rushed to the shop to see him, unknowingly returning the fake version of his dagger. He'd offered her his heart, his soul, his hand in marriage. That much had been sincere. He'd given the true dagger to her on their honeymoon and he'd meant to let her keep it—he really had. But then the hat. The Sorcerer's hat had proven too strong a temptation. Part of him relished the idea of being the first Dark One to ever cleave himself from the dagger. But the larger part was terrified of being controlled again. He had nearly lost his mind in that cage. Twice he had narrowly escaped Zelena's orders to kill Belle. Baelfire had died and he was powerless to stop it. What might happen the next time an enemy held the dagger? How could he make Belle understand that fear? He had failed as a father and was a bad bargain as a husband. Would he saddle her with even more of his insecurities, driving her away for good?

Determined to protect his marriage, Rumplestiltzkin had woven a web of deceit so thick he couldn't untangle himself. Then Belle confirmed his worst fears—she had used the dagger against him. His mind had flashed back to their first kiss in the Dark Castle when he thought she was working for Regina. And he wondered if she loved him for himself after all. He'd forgiven her readily for controlling him, but his fears intensified, making his desire to free himself from curse of the blade that much stronger.

In the end, he'd achieved nothing. Nothing but destroying the heart of the only living person who loved him. As he destroyed everything he touched. But she seemed to be willing to give him one last chance. He prayed this time would be different.

Snapping out of his melancholy and back to the present, he turned toward Belle and offered a timid smile. Wearing a simple blue sheath dress, her auburn curls loose around her shoulders, she nearly took his breath away with her ethereal beauty. His hands were still clutching the tie half wound around his neck.

"Here," she said. "Let me do that for you." He surrendered the task gladly as she expertly twisted his red tie into a Windsor knot.

Hers was the only touch he could stand. Poked and prodded as he'd been during his convalescence, he gritted his teeth each and every time he was handled, willing himself not to pull away from the clinical touches of the hospital staff.

Teasingly, Belle lightly ran a fingernail down his cheek and he froze, shuttering his gaze.

"Rumple?" she asked, noticing him stiffen. It was a simple caress and she wondered what had caused his abrupt reaction.

He closed his eyes and gently pushed her hand away. The memories of his captivity galloped to the surface of his consciousness like a team of thoroughbreds on the hunt. Pain and shame that he stuffed into the recesses of his mind flooded his senses. Inhaling a guest of oxygen he steeled himself against waves of nausea and willed himself to remember where he was, who he was with. This was Belle. He snapped his eyes open, meeting her cautious and concerned gaze.

"Rumple? Are you ok? Where were you just now?" she asked, her hands pressing into his shoulders.

"I'm fine, Belle," he lied. Eventually, he knew he would have to tell her. And he would, he scolded himself. Maybe tomorrow.

She eyed him suspiciously. "Are you ready to go home?"

"Yes," he shuddered, relieved the moment of scrutiny was over. "I don't want Whale touching my heart again."

An hour later the Golds' Cadillac pulled into the driveway of the salmon pink manse and Rumplestiltzkin unlocked the door for the first time since he'd been banished. Expecting the dust-coated clutter of his bachelorhood days, he was surprised by how clean and cheerful the old Victorian was. Fresh flowers on the foyer table and little piles of books in the den made the house feel welcoming and lived-in, and he recalled that Belle had been living here since their split. It touched him deeply to know she still considered the house theirs and he had seen how expertly she'd cared for the shop in his absence, as well. Belle. Even in the face of his perfidy she was a loyal and loving caretaker.

His brain clouded with uncertainty as he wondered what happened next. He and Belle were still in love. And they were still married. But too much—including his near-panic attack at the hospital today—had been left unsaid.

Perceptive as always, his Belle seemed to read his mind. "I'll brew some tea and fix us some dinner," she declared. "Then we should talk about our future."

She said our future, he thought, and his heart quickened with happiness. Glomming hopefully onto those two little words, Rumplestiltzkin followed her into the kitchen.

But the kitchen was already humming with activity, as Ruby Lucas poked her head around the corner. "Welcome home," she smiled, squeezing Belle in a warm hug. "I hope you don't mind that I let myself in. Granny sent dinner and I everything is ready. We figured you didn't want to cook tonight, this being your first night at home.

"Mr. Gold." She gave him a courteous nod. "It's good to see you on your feet."

"Thank you, Miss Lucas," he said. Rumplestiltzkin was stunned by Ruby and her grandmother's gesture, but figured the kindness was mostly for Belle's sake. Not for the first time, he was grateful to the townspeople for rallying around her in small ways, despite their aversion to him. Belle should not have to suffer for his sins.

"There's lasagna, salad, fresh bread, and iced tea," Ruby said. "And Mr. Gold's favorite peach cobbler staying warm in the oven," she added. "I've already set the table for two, so all that's left is for you to do is enjoy your evening."

"We can't thank you enough, Ruby," Belle smiled. "I'll call you tomorrow."

Giving Belle another hug, Ruby wished them good night and slipped out the door.

Sneaking looks at Belle throughout the meal, Rumplestiltzkin pushed the food around on his plate, his appetite nonexistent. Watching her rosebud mouth close around a bite of food, he swallowed convulsively. She was so lovely that his chest ached with love and his mind was muddled with images of their life together—before he had made a mockery of their marriage. He wondered what would happen when dinner ended. Perhaps she would allow them to stay here together in separate bedrooms? Was he expected to move out? Did Belle want to return to her apartment above the library? He was so grateful to be allowed in her life at all—for any loving word, tender touch, or scrap of kindness—he would do anything she wanted, no questions asked.

He stalled, wanting to speak, but continued the pretense of eating. Then Belle met his eyes and they both started talking at once.

"Belle…"

"Rumple…"

"You first," he gestured, inviting her to speak.

Never one to shy away from him even in his blackest of moods, Belle cut straight to the heart of the matter. "I'm not angry with you, Rumple. I never was. Not about the dagger and not that you tried to kill Zelena. I was hurt—hurt that you couldn't trust me enough to tell me the truth. Why weren't you honest with me? If you wanted to be free of the dagger we could have found a way—together."

"Oh, Belle, I wanted to tell you," he reached for her hands. "So many times I started to but…I'm a coward. I was afraid. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm so sorry. For everything."

"I was wrong, too, Rumple. I should never have used the dagger to control you. And I shouldn't have banished you. I was just so shocked and angry. Maybe if we had gone away together…" she trailed off, studying the ice in her empty glass.

"Eventually, you would have left me," he challenged softly. "None of this is your fault. You only did what you thought was right."

"I just wanted to be first," her voice was small, her cobalt eyes bright with unshed tears. "I wanted you to love me more than you love your power and your magic. But that gauntlet led me to the dagger, the thing you loved the most. I didn't—I don't—want to be second-best in your life, Rumple." A tear snaked its way down her face.

"Your greatest weakness—the thing you love the most—I wanted it to be me. Why wasn't it me?" She shrugged her slim shoulders, feeling insecure.

"How could it be?" he rejoined, the idea that she thought the dagger more valuable than herself like a stinging slap. "Belle you are not my weakness. You are—you have always been—my strength. You're the voice in my head, urging me to be better. You make me strong. You make me want to be a better man. Sweetheart, don't you know that you're everything to me? There's nothing I wouldn't do to ensure your happiness."

"If I am your strength, then why didn't you lean on me?" she countered. "You're awfully good at hiding, Rumple, and I cannot read your mind." Her eyes widened in realization, then narrowed in anger. Her head was reeling with memories of all the little ways he had pulled away from her physically and shut her out of his heart and mind after their wedding. Oh, she was such a fool! "What did that witch do to you?" she snapped, hatred for Zelena fueling her anxiety.

"Belle…" he protested weakly.

"What. Did. She. Do?" Her voice was like steel.

"You have to understand, Belle, as long as I've been the Dark One, I've always possessed the dagger. Being controlled—it extinguishes the will, deadens the senses, makes one a slave. I had no choice but to bow to her every whim and command," his voice was shaking, eyes downcast. How could he look into her eyes and confess that Zelena had forced him to be unfaithful? But he forced the truth through tight, parched lips. "That…that included fulfilling her bloodlust as well as other…appetites. God, Belle, I'm so sorry." Self-loathing was poured into every word of his story, and he covered his face with his hands and began to sob. Overcome with grief he slumped down in the chair, crying and keening softly.

Belle was on her knees before him in an instant, crushing his head against her chest. She stroked his back, crooning words of love and comfort as they cried, trying to share his terrible burden. She had fallen in love with Rumplestiltzkin for his tortured soul, but now her heart shattered for him anew. Baelfire was gone, never to return. Her husband had been misunderstood and ostracized, even by his own wife. He had been sexually abused by that monstrosity of a woman. How much could one man be expected to endure?

After a long time, she took his face in her hands. "Rumple. Look at me." She looked into lost, distraught brown eyes, her speech painstakingly slow and firm. She had to make sure he understood and believed her next words. "No matter what you think, what happened was not your fault. It was Zelena—and no one else. I should have seen what you were going through. God help me, I was so happy to be marrying you and too in love with you to notice that anything was wrong."

Taking his hand, she led him to the living room sofa like a child. She sat down, guiding him to lie down beside her, and drew his head into her lap.

"I couldn't be what you wanted, Belle," his voice was hoarse from crying and he turned his head against her stomach, muffling the sound further. "I am not a good man. You deserve someone good. Someone whole. That's something I can never be."

He drew a ragged breath and plunged ahead, asking the question he feared the response to the most. "I know you don't owe me an answer, but why Will Scarlet? Why did you move on so fast without me?"

"The truth?" She sighed. "I was lonely. Will had gone through a bad time with his wife, Ana, and we understood each other. It was easy. We spent time together and he was a good friend to me when I needed one."

"You kissed him." He hated how fragile and pleading his voice sounded but it still hurt, remembering the evening he had seen them in the shop. He thought he would shrivel up and die right then, but his desire to write them a new, happy ending had emboldened him in his search for the Author. He'd had no right to ask her forgiveness or request a chance to make up for his treachery.

"I was trying to move on, Rumple. After what happened I didn't think you loved me—not the way I loved you. I wanted to forget..." she gave a self-deprecating laugh. "I didn't do a very good job, did I? Living here, staying in the shop. I didn't want to lose you. I don't love Will and he doesn't love me. No matter what's happened, it's only ever been you. I never loved you for your money or your power or your magic. I love you for the kind, generous, loving person you hide from the world. You're all I ever wanted."

Tears were sliding down both their cheeks again as they revealed hardships and shared confessions long overdue.

Instinctively, Belle knew Rum needed her to make the first move. Leaning over him, she threaded her fingers through his soft hair and kissed away his tears. He sat up, capturing her mouth with his own and Belle melted into the circle of his arms.

He groaned, deepening the kiss and pulling her tight against him. Tearing himself away, he blazed a trail of kisses along her neck. "Oh, Rum." she whispered. "How I've missed you."

"My darling Belle...my life...I love you." He pulled back slightly, needing her permission. "What happens now?" he asked, still fearing that she would push him away.

"Now, husband, we go to bed," she declared firmly. "And tomorrow we get up and figure out the rest. Together. We'll do that over and over again until we've built a life founded on love and honesty."

"Belle," he hedged, scarcely able to believe the words he was hearing. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been more certain of anything in my life. I don't care what mistakes we make or what goes wrong. As long as you are truthful with me. No more lies. Promise me, Rum. I know you always keep your word and I need you to promise me." Belle was gentle but insistent. Her husband was a dealmaker and much as she loved him she was no longer going to be foolish or naïve where he was concerned. Rumplestiltzkin needed her strength, and part of that meant being tough on him when he needed it most.

"I promise, sweetheart. No more lies. No half-truths. I'll be honest about everything—but you may not like what you hear. I'm broken, Belle." He hung his head in shame.

"We both are," she said gently. "Neither of our lives has been easy but with God's help we can heal together. This is a day for new beginnings. Together we can do anything."

"I was right about one thing," he said.

"What's that?" She asked.

"You are the strong one."

"Only with you," she smiled against his lips. "Only with you."