Since OUaT is back and all, thought I'd go ahead and post some more fluff for my fellow Rumbelle fans. Although lately I've kind of been over his whole "I was gonna be a good guy, but then the writers didn't like that and decided to ruin my character arc (and the lives of Rumbelle-shippers everywhere) by sending me right back to square one" thing. But I still love him, and Robert Carlyle, and I still enjoy this bit, so there.
This is another wishing well moment along the same lines as "Talisman" - a scene from the show re-imagined as if Belle and Rumple were together. Note this is not a sequel or in any way directly connected to "Talisman," it's just the same type of story. This particular scene is a flashback taken from episode 2x14, "Manhattan," wherein I've taken the liberty of replacing Milah with Belle. Because screw Milah. Enjoy!
Also, a note on the title: aside from basic symbolism and whatnot, turns out a baelfire (or bale-fire) was a bonfire in traditional Beltane celebrations (welcoming the come of spring), as well as a sort of protective ward and purification ritual for livestock in Scotland, AND (most relevantly) a signal beacon in England. The more you know, eh?
Disclaimer: Don't own OUaT or Rumplestiltskin or Belle or Baelfire, even if I wish I did.
"Belle?"
"Rumplestiltskin!" She gasped his name as a woman almost drowned, gulping in relief like air when she whirled around to find him standing before her, somehow, impossibly, safe and sound. And home. "It's really you!" Her eyes welled with tears she had, until now, bravely fought off in the hopes they need never be shed for the loss she most feared. She would not bow to a grief unproven, but in the face of such utter, unexpected relief, she would happily, tearfully surrender.
Against instinct, they did not run to each other, which was for the best. The babe in Belle's arms squirmed and yawned, and Rumplestiltskin felt himself paralyzed by a sensation far stronger than any curse, even that of cowardice. "So it's true. We have a son!"
Belle beamed, her eyes shining wet and sparkling with joy. "His name is Baelfire. Do you like it?"
Warmth spread through his weak frame, bringing solace even to the chilled marrow of his bones. "I love it." He made to walk towards him, forgetting in his pride to use his crutch, and he stumbled, falling gracelessly into a nearby chair with a jarring thud.
Belle's eyes widened, and she quickly set their son down safe in a makeshift crib in the corner before hastening to her husband's side. "Rumple. Is it true?" Her gaze traveled down his leg, staring at the haphazard cast as though to discern the truth in the folds of the stained, rotting cloth. "Did you injure yourself to escape the fight?"
Rumplestiltskin grimaced, his hand reaching for his leg a half-beat later in a belated attempt to disguise the pain as purely physical. "Yes. I had no choice, Belle. A seer told me I would die on the battlefield. I—I couldn't face that. I couldn't leave you here, alone. I couldn't leave our son without a father."
"A seer told you?" There it was, the horror that had haunted every dream since he'd fled the field, reflected back to him in those blue-sky eyes of hers. "And you just, believed her?"
"She was right about everything else!" he cried. "You were pregnant. We have a son!"
"Which you didn't know until you came here!" she snapped, rising to glare down at him. She paced. "You're a married man, it's not hard to guess that you'd have a wife back home or that she might be pregnant. What else did she tell you?"
"She told me I would die!" He longed to stand up and face her full on, to grab her and shake sense into her, or even just hold her until she remembered how much she loved him, but his ankle ached and he knew it would not support him. "She said my actions on the field would leave my boy fatherless. I couldn't do that to Bae – I just couldn't."
"But you ran away. You became exactly what you hate the most." She stopped, her anger flickering like a candle about to go out. "Rumple." His name little more than a whisper, she turned to him, her eyes as full of sorrow as they were of fury a moment before. "It doesn't matter to me how you came home. I never wanted you to fight in the first place." She knelt before him, placing her hands gently on his knees in a gesture that asked, silently, for forgiveness. "I'm glad you came back to me. Really, I am. But I know you. I know how much this fight meant to you. Walking away from something so important to you – it does things to people. I'm worried what it will do to you."
Something inside him crumbled, some unconscious wall he'd begun to erect in the face of the repulsion he'd imagined in her. She didn't hate him. Thank the stars, she loved him yet, in spite of all. He breathed, and gripped her hands tightly between his. "As long as you forgive me, Belle. I didn't mean to be a coward. I just—"
"I know. But listen to me, Rumple, and listen carefully. You are not a coward." Her eyes bored into his, a clear light piercing the shadows. "No matter what anybody else tells you. You are a good man, and you put the needs of your family ahead of your own need to prove yourself. Not everyone will see it that way, but know that I do, and that I am thankful for it."
His lips trembled so that he could barely speak. He pulled her to him roughly, and they clung to each other as beacons of hope in a dimming world. She was right, of course; the tale of Rumplestiltskin's cowardice had no doubt spread through the town long before his return, and already the villagers likely muttered to themselves and to each other, remarking on the future likeness of father and son. The thought of Bae's name passing their lips in such a context raised his hackles – but he let those thoughts go for the moment, sinking deeper into the comfort of his wife's embrace.
A mewl from the corner of the room brought them back to the present, and Belle pulled away with tender reluctance. "Would you like to hold him?" she said.
"More than anything."
As she set the tiny creature in his arms, Rumplestiltskin marveled at its softness – how trusting it seemed, how utterly prone to the world and powerless, ignorant of even the existence of evil. And yet, this tiny, helpless being had been instrumental to saving his life – the image of a fatherless son had been too great a tragedy to allow, worse even than a widowed beauty such as Belle. So powerless, and yet so powerful. No, this babe – this boy who all too soon would one day become a man – could never be a coward. His clear blue gaze, blinking but unafraid, clearly showed the child had inherited his mother's courage as well as her looks, and these together would surely be enough to overpower any latent vice passed down from his father's side.
This boy, like his mother, would grow up to do great deeds – to live the life his father had forsaken in the name of family. Rumplestiltskin cradled his future in the crook of one arm, and stretched out his free hand to his wife, and for the first time in many months, he was unequivocally, unapologetically happy.