Author's notes: I'd like to see how many people would be interested in where this story goes, before taking it to a full story. If it doesn't break through, think of it as a one-shot instead.
Living with him in the Enchanted Forest, Belle had never seen any hint of a limp. Nothing like the one he'd had in Storybrooke and that was a very obvious one. At first she'd had trouble getting used to it, but now she'd recognize it anywhere.
His retreating back was disappearing in the crowded street, and Belle knew that she wasn't mistaken. She'd spotted him just outside her father's flower shop, but didn't have to see his face to know that it was indeed Rumplestiltskin in the flesh. She followed, shocked at first to see him, but with her curiosity winning out.
What was he doing here? How did he get back? And more importantly, what had he been doing in her father's shop? Her father and her husband's relationship hadn't been the best, Belle gathered, but it was well enough to gain Maurice's blessing for their wedding after all.
Belle felt her heart clench at the thought. Their wedding seemed so long ago, and though there had never been an official divorce, Belle knew that it was more than over between the two of them. She had made sure that Rumplestiltskin… no, the Dark one… would never hurt anyone in Storybrooke ever again. It was harsh and painful, but sometimes the needs of others came first.
Failing to check in with her father, Belle continued her pursuit. The people in the street seemed completely oblivious to the fact that the Dark One was walking amongst them once again. Didn't they recognize him, or did they just ignore him out of fear? Come to think of it, the librarian had never seen a street in this little town so busy. She sped up, ducking past and apologizing to people. Why was it so hard to keep up with a man who was relying on a cane for the task of simply walking?
Belle kept her eyes on his back, even though he sometimes disappeared and seemed to reappear further away. Finally, when she thought she'd lost him, she realized that she was about to enter the cemetery and, honestly, she felt stupid if not a bit guilty. Of course he'd seek this place out.
"But… his son is buried here… In Storybrooke…" Archie had once stated back when the news of Rumplestiltskin's banishment reached everyone. There had been nothing but an awkward silence in response. No one seemed to agree or disagree, but Belle knew that they were celebrating.
Taking one deep breath, she entered the cemetery. It was a chilly early morning and a thin layer of fog gave everything a pale if not ghastly appearance. She knew where to go now. Neal's grave, rest his soul, had many visitors, herself included, but now the entire place seemed empty and abandoned.
Rumplestiltskin's back was still turned on her, but he was definitely there, standing in front of the grave of his only child. He didn't move, didn't speak. He didn't do anything. The young woman watched his black-clad back for a while. It was the same coat he'd been wearing that night. Belle finally found her voice.
"Rumplestiltskin," she called timidly, almost afraid to interrupt what must have been a memory.
His shoulders visibly tensed. While his right hand was on his cane, there was something in his left hand.
When she didn't receive any sort of response, Belle stepped closer. She was almost close enough to put a hand on his shoulder, but chose not to. "Is it really you?"
He turned to look her in the eyes and Belle froze. He'd been thin before, but he'd taken on a more gaunt appearance now. Warm, brown eyes had been replaced with dull and tired ones instead. Belle realized that it was a rose he held. For the grave. That would be why he had been to her father's shop. Funny, how he didn't just conjure one.
A weak smile slowly tugged at his lips. He looked more than exhausted. "Belle…" he whispered and the cane fell to the ground as he let go and reached up to touch her face gently. When had she suddenly come so close? She stood still, merely watching him with her heart in her throat. "My darling Belle…"
His hands were cold, Belle noticed. The weather situation had hardly improved since the Snow Queen's spell. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came. Her one hand was suddenly in his left where she could feel the rose press against her palm. She was reminded of a day long ago in his castle when he offered her a rose. Even when they were simply the Dark One and his maid, their relationship had probably been better than it was now.
"You can have it…" he breathed and let go.
Belle swallowed hard and looked at her hand, but found no rose. No, what she saw was much more horrible. It thumped and squirmed in her palm as cool air brushed against her hand which was now covered in blood. She felt it pulse again and felt positively sick at the sight. When she looked up, there was no Rumplestiltskin and no cane.
There wasn't even a name on the tombstone anymore.
That's when she woke up soaked in sweat and tears. She immediately examined her hand for any sort of trace of what she'd been holding, but she found nothing. It had felt so real, though. She wiped the tears from her face, glad that she had at least woken from the dream – nightmare, she corrected herself – after the sun had come up. She couldn't possibly deal with the sudden wave of crushing loneliness she felt now in the middle of the night.
The residents of Storybrooke had, in all their different ways, tried to show her their support. Some wanted to make sure that she was still alright, while others wanted her to know that she did the right thing and that no one should tell her otherwise. No matter what, it seemed like they could all agree that it was good that her husband was gone. Archie, considerate as ever, had been the only one trying to see it from all angles. He'd asked her what she thought of it, instead of telling her with he thought of it. Then he'd inquired about the man in question, sounding almost worried. But he never blamed her.
Getting over the initial shock, Belle swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The library downstairs didn't open itself.