Every day for as long as he can remember, Mr. Gold leaves his pawnshop at noon. He walks down the street, past Granny's Diner, past the auto parts store, and heads toward the outskirts of town. It's not an easy walk, not with his twisted ankle and the cane, but every day he feels compelled to do it.
He steps inside the building and gives the cashier his three dollars, same as always. It's quiet inside, dark. She waves him ahead as she does every day, never concerned about the strange crippled man who comes there, who spends his fifteen dollars each and every week.
He's compelled to go there.
And he cannot even fathom why.
But here he is. The day the same as any other. He bypasses the rooms with fish, for they hold no interest for him. He walks past the turtles and seahorses, past the shark that swims listlessly in its tank. They are not why he's there.
The guard watches him, her dark eyes always trained on him as he makes his hobbling way down the corridors to the room at the end. Always that same room. It's dim inside and he doesn't try to find a light. There's no reason to. He knows the way.
The tank at the end is slightly lit up, one bulb burned out years ago. He doesn't remember when. But there's enough light to see what he's come to see. There always is. The day it goes dim…well, he's not sure what he'll do.
It's a sort of pilgrimage. If someone asked him why he went there every single day, paid money every single day, he would come up empty. There is no explanation. He simply knows that it calms him, that it soothes the rage that is hiding somewhere beneath the calm exterior. That when he leaves, he feels better about life, about the world in general. And he feels less trapped by the confines of the tiny town he has found himself living in.
He stares, waiting. It's not long before the creature appears. Orange, large, its bulbous body swimming somewhat awkwardly toward the glass. He first sees one tentacle appear, the suckers adhering to the glass and pulling the remainder of the creature to the front.
Its large eyes stare at him and he swears they blink a couple times. Always the creature stares and he feels such an affinity for it, a connection that he cannot explain.
And so everyday Mr. Gold, town terror, the scourge of their little area of the world, comes to the aquarium to watch the octopus swim in its tank.
And he doesn't have a bloody clue why.
Three days post-curse break, Rumplestiltskin comes to Belle and insists it's high time to get her out of the house. She's been locked up, holed up in a little cell in the basement of the hospital. He's had the room ripped to shreds, had the walls torn out, destroyed the light fixtures and Belle is pretty sure the last he did himself.
He needs a cane now, but she can see the way it's been used as a weapon, the slight nicks, the way his hand grips it just a little too tight at times. He's prone to outbursts, strange bits of anger, just as he always was. And so nothing about this new Rumplestiltskin surprises her.
Except the human face.
That will forever be fascinating to her, the way his eyes reflect light instead of absorbing it, the way she can see the emotions that flit over his face so easily. Nothing is hidden behind scales and large reptilian eyes. He's human here.
Though she does miss the leather.
She has to admit that much to herself at least. The leather and the flamboyant hand gestures and the giggle that was once so off-putting and now just one more part of his strange charm. They were a part of him, a part of what she fell in love with all those years ago.
But she's getting used to this new Rumplestiltskin. Still so mysterious, still so many layers, still magical, but oh so very human.
So when he comes to her and offers to take her out to a nice restaurant, she cannot turn him down. She's afraid, nervous, doesn't know quite what to think of this world yet. But her curiosity gets the better of her.
She says yes.
Of course she does.
Rumplestiltskin gives her what she can only describe as a shy smile and then whisks her out the door and onto the streets of Storybrooke.
They walk to the restaurant. Belle is still very much afraid of the horseless carriage he calls a "car." It moves fast. It makes noises she's never heard before. She has no memories of this life, nothing implanted like he has. He's Mr. Gold here and people still call him that, even though they give him pause, realize a moment later that it's Rumplestiltskin they're speaking to, that it's the imp they're all terrified of and not the pawnbroker that they've all come to loath.
It's strange, really. Here he's so much quieter, calmer, there's none of the manic hand gestures and expressive voice. He's still. And that is perhaps the most unexpected thing of all. She feels unsure around him, a little off kilter, and at the same time is comforted by his presence.
Life as she knew it is over. This is a whole new world, as Rumplestiltskin keeps reminding her.
When they arrive at the restaurant, he opens the door, bows low, and waves her in ahead of him. She's charmed by the gesture and reaches out to briefly clasp his hand as she moves past him. She doesn't know what they are in this world. Truth be told, she was never sure what they were in their world either. But it doesn't matter. He's Rumplestiltskin and she's Belle. And that is all that matters, really.
They hostess eyes them warily, though Belle's sure she sees a small smile on the woman's face, when Rumplestiltskin lightly touches her back and says "Ladies first." There is something about him that is old-fashioned and otherworldly, even without the leather and dragonhide.
They're seated in a quiet table in the back, far away from the bustle near the kitchen and even further from the door. It's private. Or as private as a place like that can be. Belle is curious, watching everyone, wondering who they are here, who they were in their world.
"Little Bo Peep," he says of one woman and Belle giggles as the woman looks horrified as a leg of lamb goes by on a platter.
"Is that…" she starts to ask.
Rumplestiltskin raises an eyebrow. "Indeed."
"I thought he was just…"
"A myth?" She wonders how he does that, completing her sentences as if they're not two people with two different minds. He was always quick like that, always seemed to know what she was thinking. Sometimes it was almost eerie. And then she'd remember that she was sometimes just as good at that game as he was.
And it used to be a game. Trying to complete each other's sentences, sometimes with hilarious results.
Once, when I was young, I…
Found out the mind-altering properties of licking toads.
He holds out a menu to her and she just glances down at it. There are so many choices, so many words. "They can make all of this?" Belle asks and she knows that her eyes are comically wide.
Rumplestiltskin nods and there's a small smirk playing about his mouth. "Not nearly as well as you could."
She laughs then. "Oh, don't tease." She knows he well remembers her hard biscuits and tasteless porridge. It wasn't likely that he would ever forget that, though sometimes she wishes she had the ability to brew one of those forgetting potions herself.
But that won't help much. He'll still figure it out once she tries again.
"The menu, love," he points out and she thrills to hear the endearment. He was so closed off in their world, so afraid to show any of those emotions. Here he's more open and that makes her smile. A lot of things make her smile in this world, but that is at the heart of it.
"Of course," she murmurs.
She spends a moment perusing it. Appetizers…entrees…desserts. There are so many choices, so many things to contemplate. She wants them all, truth be told. Nearly everything on the menu makes her feel even hungrier. She doesn't even know where to start.
When the waitress comes to take their orders, Belle still hasn't even decided on a drink, much less an appetizer or entrée. Rumplestiltskin orders them a bottle of wine.
"Would you like an appetizer?" the waitress asks. She's cheerful, obviously loves her job, even if she does cast the occasional dark look at Rumplestiltskin. He's told her that would happen. And she doesn't even know why he's told her that. She expected as much. He was the Dark One. Is still, if she wants to be truthful about it.
"I think so," Belle says and glances back down at the menu. Appetizers. She can limit it to those. It should make it easier. She studies it for a moment, the waitress standing nearby, pencil tapping against the pad of paper she holds. Impatient. It makes it hard to concentrate.
"Calamari?" Rumplestiltskin asks.
She speaks next without thinking, the words slipping from her mouth before she is even aware of what they're going to be. "That's squid."
And then she freezes.
And looks up at Rumplestiltskin.
And his eyes meet hers.
"Stan!" she says at the same time he does.
"Pardon?" the waitress responds with.
Belle doesn't know how to answer that. But it doesn't matter anyway. There's a crash from the kitchen, loud, a clanging noise. And then cursing.
So much cursing.
The waitress turns to stare.
Belle cannot help but follow her gaze.
"Get here you blasted creature!" comes the voice of someone she can only assume is the cook. Followed by a loud thunk and silence.
"I am not dinner!"
Belle's eyes widen and she looks at Rumplestiltskin for just a moment. "Stan!" they both shout again. And then Belle is off, Rumplestiltskin close behind her.
Stan is here. In Storybrooke. She doesn't know why the octopus didn't cross her mind. She supposes it's because he's, well, an octopus. And magical. And he had gone home, at long last, Rumplestiltskin releasing the creature to return to his mate. She supposes he was dragged to Storybrooke by the curse as well and she wonders where he has been all this time.
And if he's still an octopus.
Jiminy is apparently not a cricket. And Rumplestiltskin is as human as she is. She wonders about Stan for just a spare moment, before realizing the cook was not likely to turn a human into dinner.
She hopes at least.
Unless the cook is Sweeney Todd. And she'd rather not think about that, thank you very much.
She shoves open the door to the kitchen and sees him immediately.
Orange and bulbous and holding pots and pans in four of his tentacles. He holds a lid like it's a shield, wields the pans like they're weapons. The head cook is unconscious at his feet and Belle is sure she sees the beginning of a horrible lump in the middle of the man's forehead. He's breathing at least. She can see the rise and fall of his chest.
"Belle!" the octopus says as he sees her enter the room. His tentacles wave about and one pot collides heavily with a stack of dishes, sending them to the floor in a rather spectacular explosion. Belle cringes at the sound. She's still not used to loud sounds after all her years of near-silence.
"Stan," she says and she cannot keep the warmth out of her voice. It's good to see him. Even if he's, well, the same old Stan.
The octopus rushes across the room toward her, dislodging dishes and knocking over anyone who might get in his way. "Belle!" he repeats.
"Stan, stop!" she shouts as one of his tentacles catches a cook across the back of his head and knocks him sideways. The man lets out an oomph before collapsing.
"Oops!" Stan shouts, but he doesn't stop.
As he gets closer, Belle feels Rumplestiltskin come up behind her and peer around her shoulder. His hand comes to rest on her shoulder. She's afraid to turn to him, afraid of what his reaction might be. Finally he murmurs. "I had no idea."
Belle turns to look at him, not even sure what he means.
"Rumplestiltskin!" Stan shouts and his tentacles wave around even more violently. He's so excited that one of the pots just flies out of his tentacle.
Flies.
Like some sort of pot-shaped cannonball.
And collides with Rumplestiltskin's head with a sickening crunch.
"Rumple!" Belle shouts turning toward him and trying to grab his arm to stop his fall.
His eyes roll back in his head as he slumps to the ground, Belle just barely grabbing onto his sleeve. She loses her balance, landing on top of him as she crashes to the ground with him.
"You're not going to do it here, are you?" Stan asks and he sounds almost worried.
"Stan!" she hisses, barely giving the ridiculous octopus a glance. She leans down close to Rumplestiltskin and is relieved to see that he's still breathing.
"They do stuff in the castle!" Stan shouts and she turns to glare to him. "With no clothes!" She finds that she wants to get up and punch the creature herself. Even if she wants to hug him at the same time. Life has been simpler without Stan, quieter certainly, but there hasn't been the sense of crazy fun since Rumplestiltskin sent Stan home.
She's missed him.
Even if her face is turning bright red.
And she's glancing up around her and seeing the shocked looks of those who have been watching the scene play out.
And Rumplestiltskin is knocked out cold. All those times Stan threw things at him and this time the thing actually connects with his skull and this time Rumplestiltskin is too distracted to see it coming.
"Dear Gods," she mutters.
The words seem to break everyone out of their reverie. "Should I call the hospital?" one woman asks.
"No," Belle says quickly. No, he wouldn't want that. No, she doesn't want to go anywhere near the hospital. If he just wakes up, he can heal himself with his magic, no sterile white hospital full of evil doctors and even more evil nurses necessary.
"No?"
"No," Belle reiterates. "We need a magic." Magic can get him home. Magic can get him tucked up in bed where she can keep a close eye on him and make sure he's ok.
"The Evil Queen?" someone asks and Belle feels the shiver begin at the base of her spine and work its way upwards. The only person she's seen for what feels like a hundred years. Dark eyes watching. Always watching, never speaking. The thought of facing her so soon after the curse break leaves her feeling cold and her hands clammy.
"Yes," she finally says and watches as someone picks up a strange contraption and speaks into it. Phone, she recalls Rumplestiltskin telling her.
"Is he ok?" comes the great booming voice of Stan, far too close to her ear. As she turns his tentacle comes out and grazes the side of Rumplestiltskin's head, plastering his hair to the side of his face with goo.
Belle is saved from responding by another voice. "What the hell happened here?"
She turns then and tries to keep the panic at bay. They've called her to help.
"I hit him!" Stan shouts and she watches as Regina raises one perfectly manicured eyebrow.
"And just what am I supposed to do?" She crosses her arms over her chest as she takes a step away from the creature. Belle can well remember her visit to the Dark Castle, the disgusting goo from Stan's tentacles in her hair, Rumplestiltskin practically shoving her out the door. It's the first time she finds she can smile in the woman's presence.
"He's out cold," Belle begins.
"Because your ridiculous octopus assaulted him?" Regina sounds incredulous.
"He's not mine," Belle says quickly. Stan is no one's. Stan is Stan's. He's not their pet.
"Whatever," Regina responds with. "What exactly do you want from me?" Here she sounds imperious, every bit the queen she was and the mayor she's been in this world.
Belle fights hard to not roll her eyes. "I need to get him home. He's unconscious."
"I knocked him out!" Stan shouts and damned if he doesn't sound proud of that fact.
"I see that," Regina answers with.
"You owe me," Belle says as she rises from Rumplestiltskin's side.
"I do?"
Belle steps forward and looks her captor in the eyes, no door between them, no tiny slit in the wall separating them. Just her against the Evil Queen. "You owe me," she says again.
"You owe her!" Stan echoes and one tentacle come up to smack Regina in the back of the head. Luckily for Regina, he's not actually holding anything, the last pot having been tossed at Rumplestiltskin's head.
Regina curses and then raises one hand. "Fine. But keep that infernal creature away from me."
Belle feels the world dissolve around her and for a second, she's suspended between two places, the restaurant and the house she and Rumplestiltskin call home.
And then she hears Stan shout "Me too!" and he's hurling his large bulbous body across the room toward them. With a pop, he disappears into the void along with her and Rumplestiltskin.
When they reappear, Rumplestiltskin is laying on his bed, crumpled as if he had fallen there, Belle has been thrown to the side, and Stan is covering him. Head to toe. In orange disgusting octopus goo.
"I'm home!" Stan shouts and Belle just shakes her head. She doesn't know how she's going to explain this one to Rumplestiltskin when he finally comes to.
"Welcome home, Stan," she finally manages to say before pulling the octopus off Rumplestiltskin and wondering just exactly how she is going to set this all to rights.
A/N: This marks 2 years of Rumbelle fic for me. I just wanted to take this moment to thank all my readers over the past two years. You guys keep me writing!