AN: Hello people! To those people who are following me, I'm sorry to say this isn't another Harry Potter fic, but a fic for one of my latest obsessions, OUAT. I've recently finished watching Season 1, and I'm now busy with Season 2, but I just couldn't help myself and had to write something for my absolute FAVOURITE character, Rumplestiltskin, or Mr. Gold. I know I'm a bit behind, and I'm really ashamed of myself for only discovering this wonderful series now, but I would REALLY appreciate it if, (if anyone even reviews) nobody gives me any spoilers beyond e03 of s02. Begging you. Also this is unbetaed, so I apologise for any mistakes, feel free to point any out. Enjoy and please review! :)


Rumplestiltskin was confused. He had sent her to the village to get straw for him, knowing full well she wasn't coming back. He had sent her away. Why had he done that? Was he really so scared of the feelings she woke in him. Feelings that he had thought had died with his first wife. Was he really?

As he had watched her walk away, basket in hand, cloak around her shoulders, he had known that he was sending away the last thing that could possibly save him from the dark hole that he was gradually sinking into.

When she had asked him about his son, he had tried to change the subject, the timely arrival of that fool Gaston helping things along nicely. When he had asked her about love, he had vainly tried to pretend to himself that her answer didn't matter, that he didn't care what her dreams were or if she wanted to be a hero, or if maybe, just maybe, she had grown to care about him as he had grown to care about him.

He had tried to pretend that his heart wasn't pounding in his chest when he asked that question, 'what does she think about love?', pounding so loudly that he was afraid she would hear it. He had listened with bated breath to her answer, hoping to God that she wouldn't notice his trembling hands. Then she had turned the tables around on him, wanting him to tell her about the last thing he had loved, his son, his Baelfire.

Instead, running scared, as the coward he was, whose cowardly actions had caused the last woman he had loved to abandon him and their son, he sent her away, almost giving his blessing for her to go.

Then he had thought he was being very smart, that he was protecting his own skin, and that it was all for the best.

Now, however, he was doubting herself, for how could he think that he would simply forget her, forget the way she was almost never offended by his sharp barbs, but rather chose to laugh with him. The way that she laughed with him when he gave that odd giggle that most people found disconcerting.

He was an idiot.

He slammed his fist down on the windowsill, before spotting a dark figure striding toward the castle. He stood back, trying to see if his eyes were deceiving him. Seeing that it was indeed Belle coming down the path with an overflowing basket of straw in her arms, his eyes widened, his palms got clammy and his heart felt like it was trying to climb out of his chest.

Before he could attempt to stop himself, he was off, running down the stairs, skidding into the Dining Hall, situating himself before his spinning wheel and picking up the thread in his hand just as the door opened and she walked in, a sardonic smile on her face.

He took a deep breath, reminding himself to just breathe, and turned to face her, a nervous smile lighting on his face. Time to stop running, to stop being a coward.