Author's notes: Basically my version of the Rumbelle bits of Season 6, with me doing my best to either make sense of things or change events that I especially loathed. Because I really really really hated what was presented to us on screen.

"Life's brightest stars rise from a troubled sea." — Amy Lowell ("In Darkness")

You're the Dark One again.

It was too much. Another shock on top of all the other shocks Belle had already suffered that day. First, Zelena, the Wicked Witch of the West, had returned to Storybrooke, disguising herself as Mother Superior in order to get her hands on her baby. With the help of the real Mother Superior, Belle had done her best to protect the infant. Except that a portal had opened up right underneath her, dropping her, the baby, and Zelena into a hellish version of Storybrooke.

Literally. They were in the Underworld, Zelena informed her. Seeing how shaken the witch looked, Belle had to believe her. Belle had escaped into the decayed replica of the library, only to run into her husband coming out of the elevator.

Rumplestiltskin had been the one to create the portal. Belle should have caught on at that point, but she had been too overwhelmed when he next informed her that she was pregnant with their child. And that Hades had a contract for that child. Only when he began assuring her that he would use all his power to fix things did she realize what he was saying. She really looked at him, then, and he returned her gaze, his eyes telling her what she should have known all along.

"You're the Dark One again!"

At which he had simply nodded, and shown her the cursed dagger with his name inscribed on it. The rest of the conversation passed in a blur. Belle couldn't take it all in through her haze of shocked anger. How could he have done such a thing? He had finally rid himself of the darkness, become a pure-hearted hero. And now... and now he had thrown it all away to become a beast again. And to admit it with such bleak resignation. She couldn't accept it. Couldn't accept him. Not like this.

You're the Dark One again.

Belle all but fled the library, Zelena's baby clutched to her chest, the only thing anchoring her to her new, treacherous reality. She walked aimlessly through the cracked mockery of Storybrooke, ignoring and ignored by the shades haunting the gloomy streets. Pregnant. She was pregnant with the Dark One's child. What that heritage meant for the baby, she shuddered to think.

This was all her fault. She had known, in her reunion with Rumple, that he had wanted to talk to her, but she hadn't let him. She hadn't wanted to listen, not then, and he hadn't gotten in a word edgewise, in her hurry to forge a new start with him. Her hurry to erase the events of the previous day, to erase her betrayal at the well.

She had gone to the well meaning to reconcile with him, but at the last moment, upon seeing his face, all the old fears came flooding back. In her terror at having her heart broken again, she had broken his first. She wished she had never come to the well. She regretted the cruelty of crushing his hope, then wished she had the courage to take back her rejection. But the words stuck in her throat as she walked slowly away from him, not daring to look back. The regret grew heavier later, even as she allowed him to send her out of Storybrooke. She had known, then, that something was wrong, but not that it was more than their personal doom.

Henry's phone call had given her the chance she secretly longed for, the chance to go back and do it all over again. To undo her abandonment, to pretend that she had never left him at the well, to close that yawning chasm of lost faith between them.

Only now did Belle realize that it had been too late. That moment, once gone, was gone forever. In that gap, Rumple was abandoned, alone, and marked for death. No wonder he had reached for darkness, when he had nothing else left. Damn his weakness. Damn her own. She felt tainted now. How had she not known what she was sleeping with? Or had she known, after all? Thinking back, there had been something different about him. At the time, she had attributed it to his being uncursed, but now... now that she knew, she could feel the darkness that filled him, thicker than ever. It prickled on her own skin where she had touched him. She tasted darkness in her mouth, inside her where he had...

No. Illusions. Memories. She shook off that line of thought. She couldn't afford to let her imagination run away with her, not when she had to return this infant in her arms to its parents. Robin was here somewhere in the Underworld, she knew. He had always been more comfortable in the woods than the middle of town. Guessing that the geography here mirrored that of the upper world, Belle headed out of town towards where the outlaw camp would be.

Eventually, she came upon Robin and Regina. Relieved of her burden, Belle stood aside, lost in her own thoughts. Only Zelena's arrival drew her out of her confusion. She watched the witch plead for a chance to hold her own baby, to feed her and comfort her. If even someone so wicked could genuinely care for a child, then surely Belle and Rumple could do at least as well? Belle clung to that glimmer of hope.

On the strength of that hope, she later left the others and struck off alone. She found her husband in the Underworld version of his pawn shop. She could have wept at the welcome that brightened his face, his longing for her acceptance.

Be strong, she told herself. They neither of them could afford to give in to the darkness. She had to insist on light magic. She couldn't let his excuses and rationalizations sway her. She refused to give in to the doubt that lurked in the back of her mind. If even Rumplestiltskin can't turn darkness into light, then what chance do you have?

A few frustrated hours later, Belle knew she had to leave, before he succeeded in wearing her down. For once, Rumple followed her out the door. His next argument was cut short by the sharp thunk of an arrow hitting the wall next to him.

Gaston.

Her fiance. Her dead fiance. Her dead fiance, whom her husband had murdered without ever telling her. Who was now hunting him with a bow and arrows specially forged by Hades.

Easy. It would be so easy to let Rumplestiltskin dispose of Gaston, whispered an insidious voice in the back of Belle's mind. She refused to listen to it. Refused loudly and forcefully, telling herself as much as Rumple that they would take the hero's path and try to save Gaston.

That was not so easy. Gaston was hell-bent on his vengeance. In the end, he wouldn't give it up, and Belle had been the one to push him into the River of Souls, damning him to eternity in order to save Rumplestiltskin.

And that had been easy. Far too easy. Perhaps it had been the adrenaline. Perhaps it had been something more, something dark that Belle refused to contemplate.

Hades had shown up to gloat, but Belle had been too numb to comprehend his purpose. Rumple had comforted her as best he could, but the horror of what she had done gnawed away at her until she couldn't bear to even touch the man in whose defense she had acted. She loved him, but that love had become tainted with darkness.

This time, when Belle walked away from Rumple again, she was barely able to conceal her shakiness. She had lashed out at him, trying to cover her own sense of guilt. Darkness had taken root in her soul. She could feel it growing, feel its unnatural glee as she hurt her husband. It's only what he deserves, hissed the darkness. How many times has he disappointed you with his lies and his scheming? You can't let him get away with it anymore. Belle stumbled out of the shop, hugging herself around the belly. She had to protect herself and her child, but she couldn't trust Rumple not to hurt someone in the name of that protection.

She knew she couldn't trust Zelena, either, but at least she was a mother, too. Belle did her best to appeal to the witch's empathy, such as it was. Zelena smirked in her smug way, offering Belle a magical solution. The Sleeping Curse was not ideal, of course, but Belle had little choice at this point. True Love's Kiss, as well as waking her from the curse, would lift the darkness spreading through her soul. She hoped.

She hoped, but kept that hope to herself. Rumple was upset enough already. She didn't want him to be burdened with this. She had seen his reaction to her accusation that he had darkened her soul, and knew that he had not intended this. Intent is meaningless, mocked the voice of the darkness, but she had never believed that. Aloud, she only told Rumple to do whatever he had to do to get them out of the Underworld, and then to bring her to her father. Her father would be the one to give her True Love's Kiss.

And then she let sleep take her.

"Who are you?"

Rumplestiltskin didn't recognize him. That hurt the dreamer more than anything else: his father didn't know him. Proof, then. Proof that he was in no future the Dark One wanted to See. Proof that he had been right. He answered as he had always answered, "I am Morpheus. Welcome to Belle's dream world."

Was there a flicker of doubt? The dreamer pressed on, "Would you like to wake her up?"

Of course he would. The dreamer led his father deeper into the nightmare he had arranged, brought him to meet his mother again in the Dark Castle. The dreamer listened as Rumplestiltskin proclaimed his love for Belle, for his child.

Lies! thought the dreamer. More of his father's tricks. Only enough truth to manipulate events, but not enough truth that he could be trusted with their hearts. He wouldn't let himself be seduced by the illusion. He would be the one to manipulate things this time, not his father.

The dreamer didn't have as much control over the dreamscape as he would have liked, but he still had more power than Rumplestiltskin, who was an intruder here. The dreamer belonged. This was his place. This was his mother, and he would protect them both. Here, in dreams, the seer's powers he had inherited from his father allowed him to traverse his own timeline, even back to this point. He was little more than a cluster of cells at the moment, but it was enough to anchor his soul. He wove illusions from his mother's memories, then drew on her doubts and amplified them.

He would have to be careful. If his mother failed to wake up, he would never exist. If he failed to protect her, he would die, as his brother had died, as his brother's mother had died: at the hand of his father. He had Seen how they had died in his visions, had felt the trauma of their deaths. He had vowed to save himself and his mother from any such fate.

He hid himself in the dreamscape and watched his father woo his mother, waiting for his chance.

"Rumplestiltskin..." Belle couldn't shake the sense that something was wrong. Anxiety fogged her thoughts. The Dark One did nothing to dispel her confusion; instead, his behavior was more erratic than ever. She humored him, fearing the consequences if she did otherwise. She was terrified that at any moment, the world would come apart beneath her. She would go mad, or the castle would devour her alive, or the Beast would crush her heart. She had been warned about him.

The Dark One lies, the Dark One tricks.

At any moment, he might do something truly dreadful to her.

But he didn't. He wanted to dance. Dance! She let him spin her across the floor.

Why was his touch so familiar?

He kissed her.

It had all happened before.

And then she remembered.

"Our child will be better off waiting with me than being in debt to you."

She broke off the magic exactly as the dreamer had intended. They would wake from the Sleeping Curse, but the Dark One Curse remained intact. And she wasn't going to go back to Rumplestiltskin. The dreamer wanted to shout in relief and triumph, but he restrained himself and only said, "I was really hoping that you'd say that."

He revealed himself to his parents. He managed to keep his mother lingering in the dreamscape long enough to deliver his warning. Already his consciousness was fading. He forced himself to stay long enough to kiss his mother. An illusion, but she was convinced. That was all that he had needed.

"I'm not making a home with you."

She refused to listen to him. Rumplestiltskin watched in despair as Belle stepped through the portal without him. After everything, after even her own father had refused to wake her, she accused him of trying to put their child in debt to him. How could she think that, when he had always, always given everything freely to Baelfire? Just as he would for his second child. A child who hated him already.

Was it possible? Had it truly been their son in the dreamscape?

For the first time since his resurrection, Rumplestiltskin made a conscious attempt to see into the future. When he had been held captive by Zelena, the strain of carrying his son's mind in his own had made it impossible to focus. After Baelfire had died, Rumplestiltskin had known that his own heart was dying, and had had no desire to see that fate in all its gory detail. Now, however, with a new child in his future — he needed to know. To sift truth from lies in what "Morpheus" had told them.

A seer required three things: the inborn talent, magical power, and the opening of the inner eye. Rumplestiltskin had already had the first two when he achieved the third by ripping the knowledge from the seer he had met in the Duke's war camp. And now, as he looked into time, he realized that his son had acquired the first from his father, the second from being conceived as a child of true love, and the third from the trauma of the Sleeping Curse. Visions of possible futures flickered through his mind, and Rumplestiltskin strained to draw meaning from the images.

One thing became clear. He closed his eyes, whispering, "He was telling the truth. He is our son."

Then another revelation burned into his thoughts. Belle. Belle holding a beating heart in her hand, her eyes blazing with magical energy. There was no mistaking the aura around her. She was a Dark One.

That was what he had done to her. Rumplestiltskin collapsed to his knees, clutching his head in a vain effort to banish the vision. Tears seeped from his tightly lidded eyes, and he gasped out a choked apology. "Oh, Belle. I'm so sorry."