It's late one night when Belle finally manages to get the words out. "What happened to the deal?" She hasn't been able to mention Stan in weeks, too teary-eyed over losing one of her only friends. But curiosity finally gets the better of her.

"Deal?" Rumplestiltskin asks and he looks honestly confused. She knows he has a keen memory but his mind quickly moves beyond each moment, putting them behind him and reaching for the next thing. He's hundreds of years old, that much she has figured out through research and hints he's dropped. She can't imagine the brain, even that of an ancient sorcerer, could keep track of everything.

"Yes. The one you made for Stan?"

"Ah." For a moment he says no more, simply lets the wheel keep spinning. He spins to forget, he told her once, though his quip afterward had made her wonder how serious he was. At least for a moment. In the months after that, she had watched him carefully, and had come to know the truth. He had a lot to forget and the sadness and loneliness that emanates off him is almost palpable at times.

"So?" She waits expectantly. He'll talk…eventually. He's not one for sharing much, but he usually caves to her desire to talk after she needles him enough.

"He decided he didn't want an octopus that throws things. Nasty creature, that."

Belle just rolls her eyes. "Yes I'm sure that's it."

"What? You don't believe me?" She raises one eyebrow. "You saw what he did to me." The other eyebrow joins the first. "I still have the scar," he mutters.

"Oh you poor baby." Belle rises and steps close to him, reaches out to brush the hair back from his forehead. He leans into the touch, like a dog who has gone without affection for too long. He's been doing that more lately. It's her turn to leave him feeling off, leaning down close to him and finally speaking far too loud for the quiet room. "There is no scar."

"Hmph," he says and turns back to his wheel.

She can see that he's hiding a smile. "So what's the real story. I mean, so he throws things. And I'm not sure that wasn't just at you."

Rumplestiltskin feigns surprise at that. "Now why would he throw things at me?"

She just gives him a look and continues. Sometimes it's not even worth it to play his games. "But a magical fortune telling octopus…"

"Is that what he told you?" He makes a scoffing sound.

"Isn't that why you wanted him?"

"Of course not. How ridiculous. Magical fortune telling octopuses. It's almost like you believed that rot." He waves a hand at her. "I thought I had you trained better than that."

"Trained?" She raises one eyebrow.

"Well, educated at any rate."

"He does tell fortunes. He told me mine. Multiple times."

"Did he now?"

"Yes. He told me I would burn dinner and I did." She sat back, smug look on her face.

"You burn dinner every night. How is that a fortune?" If he didn't look so honestly confused, Belle might have been tempted to punch him in the nose.

"I do not."

"You do…"

"Not."

"Last night you burned the potatoes," he points out.

"I…"

"And the night before I'm not even sure what you served me."

"You said it was delicious!"

"And it was," he points out. "After my magic made it palatable."

"I…well…drat." And she has to wonder if Stan had ever told her the truth about anything. "So that means I won't be meeting my true love in the next few months?" She heaves a sigh at that. She really had been so excited, even if it had been improbable.

Rumplestiltskin snorts at that. Really snorts. "Just where did you think you were going to meet someone?"

She sighs again. "I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am. I'm always right." Now it's his turn to be smug and Belle just shakes her head. She won't even attempt to address that one. He won't see it anyway.

"So if he doesn't tell fortunes, what were you going to do with him anyway?"

He gives her a rather strange look before proceeding. "There are certain…properties…of such creatures that, when dried and ground up…"

"You were going to kill him."

He rolls his eyes. Actually rolls his eyes. As if he's no more than five years old. "No. The person I was dealing with was going to kill him."

"That's the same thing," she points out.

"Not quite."

"Hmmm."

"Hmmm?" There's that confused look again.

"So you saved his life."

"I did not." He sounds mortally offended at the thought.

"You did." She slides closer to him. "What did you end up giving the guy?"

"Giving?"

"Yes. In the deal." She slides a little closer to him.

"Some sort of pendant," he mutters. "It was not my best deal."

"I see." She slides over so that her knee is almost touching his and then leans toward him. "I'm going to hug you now."

"Are you?" She's sure he'd scoot away from her if he could, but he has nowhere to go without standing and he doesn't seem quite willing to do that.

"I am. Just giving you fair warning."

He starts to open his mouth but cannot get out whatever he was planning to say. Belle launches herself at him, wraps her arms around his neck, and squeezes. She likes being close to him and for a moment, he allows the closeness before putting his hands on her waist and setting her back and away from him.

"Well, then…perhaps you should…get back to cleaning? The place isn't going to clean itself, you know."

Belle stands then and smiles, touches his shoulder. "Actually…"

"Oh, off with you," he says and swats at her skirt.

Belle skips away with a laugh. The smile on his face as he turns back to his wheel is proof that he's not quite the scary beast he'd like her to think he is.