Title: "Almost Whole"
Author: Kat Lee
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: He was almost whole.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, names, codenames, places, items, fandoms, titles, and etc. are always © & TM their respective owners, not the author, and are used without permission. Any and all original characters and everything else is © & TM the author and may not be reproduced in any way without the author's express, written permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.

He had never thought that true love's course would, or even should, run smoothly, but he had not been prepared for this. He was a master strategist. He knew more than any of the other beings in the whole of Storybrooke put together, Cora and Regina included, for, after all, as the former had reminded him, he had taught them everything they knew. He had devised the plan and used both women to get him here where he could find his son centuries ago, and yet, because of his own stupidity, his own carelessness, his own lack of foresight, he had lost everything that was truly important to him.

His hands shook as he fought tears and continued his search, doing something he hadn't done for years, touching things he'd promised himself long ago he'd never have to touch again. He was digging in garbage, but he would find what he sought. He would find it. He would fix it, but that was all he could fix.

He'd tried the most powerful weapon known to him. He'd tried the one thing that was supposed to fix everything else in all the realms. He'd tried true love's kiss, and when that hadn't worked, he'd fallen back to a spell he hadn't even been sure would work and risked the most important possession to him.

Rumpelstiltskin paused in his search for a moment as he considered that thought. What he sought now was the most important thing he owned. It was even more important than Bael's cloak. He'd been so blinded in his desperation to make things right with his son that he'd overlooked what truly had become most important to him. It was a wonder that the cloak had even worked to keep his memory in tact, and he almost wished it hadn't.

He almost wished he could forget as she had. He almost wished his memory had been the one stolen. He would have given all he had, every thought that had ever entered into his formidable mind, to have her memory left to her.

But then, what good would that have done? he pondered. What good would it have done him if she had remembered him if he had forgotten himself? She could no more have returned his memory to him than he could to her, far less indeed, and she would have been unprotected. At least this way, he could still protect her.

He dashed angrily at the tears that wouldn't stop coming to his dark eyes. He wasn't this man any more. He shouldn't be shaking. He shouldn't be digging in garbage. He shouldn't be trembling inside, wanting to hide and yet simultaneously aching to tear that cursed Pirate apart with his bare hands.

That was the problem, he thought. He wasn't the same man any more. She had changed him. She had made him weaker, as he had once prophesied would happen if he ever let himself love any one again. He should have killed Hook back on the ship when he'd had the chance. If he had, he wouldn't have shot Belle, and her memory would not have been taken. She would not have been taken from him.

He pressed his thin lips tightly together, determined not to release the howl that was building within him. He was just about to run from the hospital again when his shaking hands finally touched a rough piece of glass. It was no ordinary glass. It was china, and not just any ordinary china. He finally wept as he began to pull the shards of glass from the trash can.

Only when he held the last piece in his shaking hands did Rumpelstiltskin again wipe his tears away. This time, the effort was only to clear his vision so he could have a better chance of concentrating. His mind was still whirling, his heart still thundering and trembling within his chest. He himself was still shaken, from his outside in to his very core, but he had to somehow concentrate. He had to do this.

As it had been since he had become the Dark One, Rumpelstiltskin again did what he felt he had to do. He managed to concentrate, putting Belle's image to the back of his mind for just a moment. His hands glowed with his magic as he fixed the broken cup, as he'd fixed Chip, as he'd come to refer to the little cup so long ago in Belle's absence from his life the second time.

He was still shaking long after his magic spell had faded, long after the glow had left his hands and its reflection had faded from his face, leaving him dark and stoic once more. He stayed kneeling there beside the trash can, holding the cup, who was still missing once piece, in his still slightly trembling hands. His head bowed; he could no longer stop his tears.

He had changed. He was weak. Like the cup, he was broken, but unlike the cup, he knew no magic that could heal him. Only one thing, one person, could, and she had been stolen from him. He'd already vowed that he would have her back, but he didn't know how to do it. For the first time since sacrificing everything to wield the power he'd thought would make him unstoppable, Rumpelstiltskin didn't have an answer. He couldn't solve his own problem, and that knowledge made him feel once more like the coward he'd been so long ago.

An orderly rounded the corner suddenly and shouted at the sight of him. Rumpelstiltskin whirled to his feet, almost falling for his weakened leg in the mortal realm, and shot out his right hand. The orderly froze as the Dark One's magic wrapped around him. He glowed as his face froze in fright. He could no longer see Rumpelstiltskin, but Rumpel could see him clearly. He saw his fright, and despite knowing that he should kill him, he twirled him around in the air several times and then released him with his back to him. The orderly shook his head and continued in the direction from whence he'd come, all thoughts of what he'd been doing and what, and who, he'd seen gone from his mind.

In his absence, Rumpelstiltskin again bowed his head and stared at the tiny, broken china cup through eyes glistening with moisture he refused to shed once more. He should have killed him. He should have killed Hook. He should have killed all of them but his cherished, beloved Belle. But he had changed. She had changed, making him weaker and yet giving him more than anybody else had ever given him.

She'd made him feel important without being afraid of him. She'd made him feel, for the first time in centuries, like he didn't need his magic or power to be important or to even be a man. She had chased away part of his darkness and all of his coldness. She had changed him. She had loved him, and in that love, she had made him want to be good and love her in return.

Actually, he thought with a small, twisted grin to his wry mouth, that wasn't entirely true. He did love her, and as he had done with the cup in his hand, she had made him almost whole. Almost whole. Only one chip remained, and that missing part of him was the love and her that had been stolen from him. Rumpelstiltskin's resolve strengthened in that midnight hour. He'd been broken; she'd almost finished healing him. He wouldn't let her down. He would heal them both, regardless of true love's kissing having failed them. He would heal them, and he would make true love's kiss work for them once and forever more.

The End