A/N: I'm sorry, this one is angsty. But also smutty.

The cellar was cold. That was his primary thought, when his mind could focus on the present, when it wasn't scrambled with grief from the loss of Bae or bursting with pain as he tried uselessly to claw back control of the magic he had once wielded, the magic with which he had tamed kings, ended wars and transformed the lives of those willing to pay his price. Fighting the Witch was futile, but he still tried, grasping uselessly for the magic, feeling along what seemed like a wall between him and his power, smooth as glass and impenetrable. Until she allowed him to wield power for the purposes she chose, he may as well have been reaching for the moon. The fighting tired him, too, and if she sensed his resistance, she would punish him. Sometimes he felt it was worth it, just to see the look of rage on her face when she realised that she hadn't destroyed his sense of self, that he wasn't the whipped cur she was trying to mould him into. All too often, though, Zelena's anger left him broken and bleeding, and he only had the strength to crouch on the floor in the filthy straw and hold his head in his hands. It was then that he noticed the cold.

He clung to those he loved, when his mind could focus. The son he had lost and found twice, who had forgiven him his failings, in the end. Thoughts of Belle, her smile, her kiss, her touch. He rocked back and forth on his heels, arms wrapped around his head, his body as small as he could make it. The Witch had not been seen since – how long? How long had he been there since she left him bleeding and gasping on the floor of the cell, the dagger glinting in the light from the naked, swinging lightbulb that was only lit when she was there. He had learned to fear the light, too. Safer in the darkness. Wasn't that what he'd always thought, anyway? Safer. Until Belle. Until she brought light into his life. Light that had deserted him, now he no longer had her.

He remembered himself enough to shiver. It had been the depths of winter when he had been taken in the Enchanted Forest, and he guessed that it was winter here, too. Time had ceased to have any meaning as Zelena's prisoner. The child. She wanted the child. Snow White and Prince Charming's child. It wouldn't be long, then. A part of him welcomed the end. In the new life she crafted, he would find a way to kill her. He whispered the promise to Bae, over and over as he rocked back and forth. There had to be a way to get the dagger, if he could just focus long enough. His mind tried to run screaming from the memory of what had happened the last time he had tried to take it and failed. He took the memory and locked it away, locked it up tight, tried not to wince and favour his right side as the ghost of what had passed brushed across his mind.

The screech of the metal trapdoor made him stiffen and catch his breath. Surely she was not back yet? His heart began to pound, and he looked up, eyes widening, trying to take in as much light as possible, to see how she intended to hurt him this time. He heard the click of heels descending the stairs rapidly, and turned away from the door. Perhaps, if he was very still, she would leave him alone. For one night.

"Rumple?" That voice! He swivelled, swaying slightly on the balls of his feet as he turned towards it. She was there! A vision of pale skin and chestnut hair, bathed in light, wrestling with the cage door.

"Belle!" His voice was hoarse, broken-sounding, and he felt tears start in his eyes. The Witch! If the Witch returned… He held up a hand to the young woman in front of him. "You must go! Quickly! I don't know how long we have."

"Don't be silly, I've come to free you, I'm not leaving you here!" Belle spoke assuredly, as though he had said the most unreasonable thing in the world. She wrenched open the door and stepped inside, gazing down at him with a curious look on her face. He hadn't moved.

"Rumple?" She held out her hand to him. "Come on, please! I'm here for you. I love you, but we have to go, now!"

Slowly, agonisingly slowly, he uncurled himself, feeling his muscles screaming in protest after being in one position for so long. He reached up to take her hand, her skin smooth and cooler than he remembered. Belle gave him an encouraging smile and hauled him to his feet, pulling him towards her. He fell against her, throwing his arms around her waist and weeping into her hair as he held her, and she stroked his hair and hushed him. Vaguely, he was aware that she smelt different, but he was too wrapped up in her to care about any new perfume she had found.

A tickle at the back of his mind dried his tears in an instant, and made his heart thump with fear. She was coming.

"Run!" he said urgently to Belle, and she looked puzzled as he pushed her away from him. "Run! Go! She's coming!"

"I think it's a little late for that, don't you?" Zelena's smooth voice purred through the darkness at the back of the cage, and she stepped out of the shadows. Belle's eyes widened, and she turned on her heel to make for the steps to the trapdoor. Zelena tutted sadly, shaking her head.

"Oh, I don't think so," she said in an offhand manner, and locked the trapdoor with a flick of her hand, immobilising Belle against the wall. Rumple flicked his gaze between the two women, panic-stricken, as Belle raised her chin to stare down the Witch.

"Now," said Zelena pleasantly. "What to do with you…" She tapped a finger against her lips thoughtfully.

"Leave her alone!" snapped Rumple fiercely, and she turned furious blue eyes on him.

"Getting a little above ourselves, aren't we dearie?" she sneered. "Remember that you're not the one giving orders around here!" She slashed at the air with the dagger, and Rumple doubled over with a gasp of pain as it felt like a hot knife cutting into his chest and stomach.

"Yes, I give the orders," went on Zelena, a little more calmly, as he raised hate-filled eyes to her. Her own eyes glinted with malicious pleasure. "And here's an order I'll particularly enjoy." She inclined her head towards Belle, and his eyes widened in horror as he shook his head in disbelief.

"Please!" His voice was harsh, desperate. "Please, no!"

Zelena's lips curved into a smile.

"Ooh, I think I like it when you beg," she said, leaning back a little and running her eyes over him. "Say it again, Rumple," she crooned. "Say please. Plead for her miserable life."

"Please!" He tried to put every ounce of sincerity into the word, although he knew it was for nothing. "I'm begging you, Zelena…"

She lashed out with the knife again, suddenly furious, and he grimaced, clutching at his chest.

"You're pathetic, do you know that? Reduced to this…" She swept a hand up and down him, lip curling with disgust. "Pleading for the life of a girl who doesn't have a scrap of magical power in her body! She couldn't possibly understand you, never mind love you!" She bent forwards, putting her mouth close to his ear and making him flinch away instinctively. "Kill her, Rumple," she purred. "Put your hands on her pretty white neck and crush the life from her."

The force of his curse clamped down on Rumplestiltskin, making him cry out with agony as he tried to fight the compulsion with everything he had. He locked eyes with Belle, desperate as he saw the fear in hers, hating himself as his body moved towards her no matter how he tried to stop it, as his hands reached up, batting away her struggles, and tightened around her throat. Tears streamed down his face as she writhed in his grip.

"I'm sorry!" he wept, as her eyes bulged. "I'm so sorry, Belle! I love you so much, sweetheart! I love you, I love you, I love you!"

She tried to mouth something, but no words came out, and the light was leaving her eyes…

Rumple sat up with a jerk, heart pounding in his chest, cold sweat beading on his skin and making him shiver in the coolness of the room. He took several deep breaths to try to calm himself, running his hands over his face and through his hair as he attempted to chase away the shadows in his mind. He was almost afraid to look to his left, in case she wasn't there, in case he hadn't been dreaming again, but there was Belle, curled up beside him with her dark curls fanning out across the pillow. He put his head in his hands with a long, shuddering sigh of relief, his shoulders shaking with sobs.

Eventually he calmed, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and tugging on his pyjama pants to pad through to the kitchenette. The cabin's facilities were sparse, but comfortable enough for a few days, and he filled a kettle with water for tea while he rooted through the cupboards for something stronger. Grasping the bottle of whisky he kept there, he took a glass from the cupboard and half-filled it, knocking it back and pouring the same again as his eyes watered. It was not the way to treat fine Scotch, of course, but needs must.

He crossed to one of the armchairs and lowered himself into it tiredly, sipping his second drink slowly as he tried to chase away the demons that came to him in the night. Zelena had only tried that trick once, using a magical construct with the look and feel of Belle (although the scent had been wrong, he had noticed that), and had let him weep for hours, thinking he had killed his true love, wishing himself dead. Belle, ironically, had broken into the cellar herself the next day and really had tried to free him. He had lost no time in telling her to run on that occasion. After that, he had not believed any of the visions of Belle that Zelena sent him. Deprived of this form of mental torture, Zelena had mainly resorted to physical harm. Mainly. He didn't want to think about any of it. He took a swallow of whisky, his mouth twisting bitterly.

"Rumple?" Belle's voice, drowsy and warm, cut through his dark recollections. She shuffled into the room, rubbing her eyes and yawning, her hair mussed with sleep. She was wearing his shirt with the sleeves rolled up, looking adorable, and he forced himself to smile at her, patting his knee. She slid onto it, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Couldn't sleep, huh?" she asked gently. "Was it a nightmare again?"

He hesitated, but he didn't want any more lies between them, and he had awoken in terror three nights running, which she was fully aware of, so he nodded. She bit her lip in consternation, stroking his hair soothingly and kissing his cheek. He pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly, taking another drink.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly, watching the light play on the silver strands at his temples.

"No." He shook his head, perhaps a little more vehemently than was necessary, and she said nothing, merely watched him, her fingers still moving gently over his hair. He could hear her brain ticking in her head, and knew that she was dying to ask him about it.

"It might help," she added, and he grimaced, letting her slip to the floor as he stood up and paced into the kitchenette, taking a swig of his whisky.

"I can't, Belle," he said quietly.

"Perhaps, if you tried…" she began, and he turned away from her.

"Belle, I can't!" he said sharply. "Not right now. Please."

He heard her walking slowly towards him and leant on the small worktop, letting his shoulders droop a little as he sighed. Her hands slid around his waist and she rested her head on his back.

"Okay," she said gently. "Are you coming back to bed?"

"I'll make some tea, first," he said, and smiled briefly as he felt her place a kiss between his shoulder blades.

"Don't be long," she yawned. "It's cold, I need cuddles."

Despite that, when he put his head around the bedroom door fifteen minutes later, she looked as though she was asleep, dark lashes lying thickly against her cheeks, a shaft of moonlight stretching across the bed and illuminating her pale skin. She had kept his shirt on, which made him smile. Her eyes flickered open.

"Come here," she murmured, reaching for him, and he took her hand, letting her draw him to sit beside her on the bed. She pushed herself up slightly, stroking his hair back from his face, her other hand moving up his arm, as though she was trying to reassure him with her touch.

"I hate to see you in pain," she said softly, and his mouth twisted.

"I'm fine, sweetheart."

"You're not fine," she insisted. "I wish I could make it better." Her fingers stroked gently, making him shiver with the sensation.

"You make it better just by being here," he said honestly, and she smiled.

"Come to bed," she whispered, stroking her hands over his shoulders. "You're cold."

He hadn't felt it, but now she mentioned it he could feel the chill in the air. He stood up and went round to his side of the bed, burrowing beneath the covers and spooning up against her. Belle made a sound of protest as his cold feet met her warm ones, and tugged the blankets over them. He nuzzled the back of her neck, making her shiver.

"Your feet are cold," she murmured, and he chuckled.

"And yours are deliciously warm, my sweet." He breathed in her scent, his nose in her soft hair, and his fingers gently walked over her hip and up her waist, fingertips brushing the side of her breast. Belle made a tiny noise in the base of her throat, but he merely carried on to her shoulder, gently folding his fingers around the smooth silk of the shirt.

"I like my clothes on you," he whispered, and sensed her smile.

"That's lucky, because I like your clothes off you," she countered.

"Indeed?" He bent his head to kiss her, fingers gently pulling at the silk and moving it aside, baring her pale shoulder for his mouth. Belle's breath caught as his lips met her naked skin in a moist kiss, and he felt her shiver. He smiled against her, pushing the shirt further off her shoulder.

"Like this?" he breathed, and she nodded.

"Yes, only – more."

"Ah." He slid his hand around to where the shirt was loosely fastened, nimble fingers slowly pulling the buttons undone. Belle gasped, squirming a little against him as his fingertips touched the bare flesh of her belly. He kissed her again, his hand moving back to her shoulder, peeling the shirt off her achingly slowly.

"Like this?" he asked, and she let out a tiny moan as he kissed her again, shivering as his mouth slid along her shoulder blade to the back of her neck. She was moving against him again, her rear turning circles and making him harden. He slid a hand around to cup her breast, gently pinching the nipple between thumb and forefinger as he sank his teeth into her neck, and Belle moaned aloud. He pulled the shirt off her arm completely and allowed himself to caress her skin, his touch moving down over the curve of her hip and then across the flat of her belly. She was wriggling, her breathing heavy, and he slid his fingers slowly down past her navel and between her legs.

Belle gasped as he touched her, her back arching, her hand moving behind her to tug at his hip, pulling him against her more tightly. He growled in appreciation as his fingertips sank into her soft wetness, finding her slick and ready for him once more.

"My beautiful Belle," he whispered, his mouth at her ear, nipping the lobe with his teeth. "Shall I make you come for me, my Belle?"

She nodded furiously, trying to turn her head to kiss him, but he pulled back, making her let out a frustrated sound. He began to stroke her slowly, fingertip circling her clit, never quite touching her, and Belle's grip on him tightened, her body moving against him in time with his touches. She was making the most delicious little noises as he moved, tiny moans and cries that were making him want to lose all self-control and simply pin her to the bed and bury himself in her. He concentrated on the way he was touching her, slipping a finger inside her, another joining it, causing a deeper moan from her. He began stroking her clit with his thumb as his fingers moved in and out of her, grinning against her shoulder as he felt her begin to shake with the intensity.

"Rumple!" she gasped, and he bit her again, making her cry out, her body tensing, nearing the edge.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he breathed close to her ear, and she shattered, her head jerking forwards with a cry as her entire body seemed to curl in on itself, her inner walls clamping around his fingers as she rode his hand. He stroked her down slowly, smirking to himself, and pressed a final kiss to her before withdrawing his touch. She was still catching her breath as he pushed down his pyjama pants and sidled up close to her, his hand lifting her thigh and draping it over his so that he could press up against her. She was so hot, so wet, her flesh swollen with pleasure and desire, and it was all he could do not to simply take her fast and hard.

"Ready, dearest?" he said softly, and she nodded fervently, making him smile, gritting his teeth as he pushed slowly into her, the sensation of her surrounding him making his head spin. He didn't think he'd ever get used to this, to being inside Belle, closer to her than anyone else had ever been. His hands were shaking slightly as he reached for her breasts again, his mouth trailing wet kisses across her shoulders and up to her neck as he thrust into her. Belle moaned, writhing against him, her hand reaching up to touch his face, to pull his head down into her neck so that he could nip at her with his teeth.

She slid her hand down to her breast, lacing her fingers through his, and pulled his hand down with her, down between her legs, so that he could feel himself moving in and out of her, so that he could feel her, clamped tight around him. He groaned aloud, his movements quickening, his rhythm becoming a little erratic before he calmed himself, and his fingertips began to stroke her once more. Belle bent forwards, allowing him to push deeper inside her, to fill her, crying out as he began to tease her towards her climax once more. He could feel his own release building, his body tensing as he strove to reach his peak, concentrating on how good she felt, on how much he loved her, on how incredible it was that from all the men in all the realms she had chosen him.

She whimpered his name as she came, and the feel of it pulled him with her, making him cry out in ecstasy, pushing into her as far as he could go, his hands tightening on her hips as he poured himself into her. Belle leaned into him again, pressing her back against his chest and nuzzling her head against his as he tried to catch his breath. Slowly, she lifted her leg, allowing him to slip out of her and wrap his arms around her, pulling her tight against him. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the mingled smells of sex and clean perspiration and her, her scent mixed with his own, the afterglow making his head spin.

"I love you so much, Rumple," she whispered, and he squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to stay there with her forever, to seal off the cabin from the rest of Storybrooke and spend the rest of their days in bed together. Perhaps then the nightmares would leave.

A/N: Many thanks to my Tumblr buddies for helping me spank my recalcitrant Smut Muse into submission today. You guys are awesome.