Nothing was ever supposed to change in Storybrooke, but Henry Mills could. Rumplestiltskin was mulling over this paradox as he watched the EMTs attempting to resuscitate Regina. He knew already it was a lost cause, though. The curse wouldn't have woken him up if the queen weren't already dead, the victim of a car that took this same route at the same time every Thursday. Her son had wandered away when her back had been turned, and in saving him she had sacrificed herself.
It was a bittersweet sort of feeling standing there. He'd crossed the bounds of reality itself to land in this world where he would be able to find his son, and now here he was. But by his count, there was still another nine or ten years before the savior would arrive, and he had no idea where she would come from. Henry was sitting with one of the EMTs while the sheriff interviewed witnesses trying to determine what precisely had happened, and suddenly Rumplestiltskin had a vague memory of a time before when he had been Mr. Gold and Regina had come looking for him. Gods, what was it she had said? Henry's mother was found outside town. Eighteen years before. She was important...it couldn't be that simple, could it?
Regina was being put into the back of the ambulance and the EMT was looking around for someone to hand Henry to. Nothing was ever supposed to change in Storybrooke, and Henry had always been an odd variable in this stationary little town. There was no precedent for a toddler running into traffic leading his mother after him, and nobody would know what to do with the child if there was no one to claim him.
Rumplestiltskin took a deep breath, putting the mask of the pawnbroker back over himself and strode across the street as purposefully as he could manage. He took the toddler from the relieved paramedic and walked back towards his shop with the child. Later he would have to go to the mayor's house to recover some of Henry's belongings, but for now he was sure there was a crib in his shop and a mobile that had been meant for his birth mother's bedroom.
Henry had been staying with him for just over a week now, and it was sometimes startling how much he resembled Bae as a boy. They had the same dark hair and the same smile. Rumplestiltskin wasn't sure how much of that was actually in Henry, though, and how much was just his own desperation. Henry had stopped crying for his mother, and honestly Rumplestiltskin was surprised how much that hurt. He and Regina had never had an amicable relationship, but he'd known her as a baby and he had taught her everything she knew. In another universe, she would have been his child and she was the closest thing he was likely to ever have to a daughter.
At least Henry was an easy baby, and Rumplestiltskin had always loved children. He took the boy with him everywhere, and it was nice to have him there – he was a pleasant distraction from waiting for the savior.
Henry was toddling around the pawn shop, touching everything left within his grasp when the bell rang and the hatter, Jefferson, walked in purposefully.
"It's you, isn't it?" he said before Rumplestiltskin could even greet him.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Rumplestiltskin said, trying to sound as much like Mr. Gold as he possibly could with a toddler clinging to his leg. "You'll have to be more specific."
"Don't play games," Jefferson replied. "I've been watching, and you're the only one who's changed at all since Regina died. I know you inherited the curse."
"Ah, so she left you awake," Rumplestiltskin said, letting the façade drop once he realized who he was talking to. "How very like her."
"She never was subtle," Jefferson said, bending to scoop Henry up. "You kept her son."
It was somewhere between a question and a statement and caught Rumplestiltskin off-guard. Jefferson was jiggling Henry on his hip gently and talking to the boy softly.
"He's important to some ongoing plans of mine," he finally said. "What can I do for you today?"
"I remember when my Grace was this age," Jefferson said. "I was sure she was the smartest baby in the world. It used to kill me going off and leaving her alone with her mother, and when Priscilla died…" He shook his head, seemingly casting off the remembrance before turning back to Rumplestiltskin. "I'm here to make a deal."
"Oh really?" he said, feeling a bit more like himself already. "And what can I do for you?"
"You can change the curse," Jefferson said. "My daughter belongs to another family and I can't stand watching them be happy. I just want my real memories gone so I can forget. All I've ever wanted is to forget."
"I'm afraid I'm limited in what I can accomplish on that score," Rumplestiltskin replied. "I don't have any magic at the moment."
"The queen brought some items," Jefferson said easily. "I don't know what or where, but she's spent the last twenty years cackling to me about how clever she is. There is magic someplace in town."
"Ah, well in that case it should be easy enough," Rumplestiltskin said, reaching to take Henry back. "And what am I getting in return?"
"I know where Belle is," Jefferson said the words so nonchalantly that it took Rumplestiltskin a few moments to realize their import and he practically dropped the baby when he heard them.
"She's dead," he said, more to remind himself of the truth than for Jefferson's sake. "She's been dead for years."
"No," the hatter replied. "Regina kept her. She's here. She's hidden, but she's here. I've seen her. She's alive."
"Where?" Rumplestiltskin asked. His head was swimming with this revelation. Regina had said she was dead. Regina had lied. Belle was here. He could get to her.
"I'll tell you once you have the magic."
"That's not the right answer," Rumplestiltskin replied. "It could take weeks to find her hiding place."
"I can wait weeks," Jefferson said. "I've waited years already."
"Yes, but I can't," Rumplestiltskin said. "And there are only so many places a living woman can be hidden in this town. Would you prefer I dedicated those weeks to my concern or to yours?"
Jefferson's resolve seemed to waiver at the idea that Belle could be found through other means than his information.
"What's my guarantee you'll help me if I give her to you?" he asked.
"Have I ever gone back on a deal?"
A few hours later, he was standing in the lobby of Storybrooke General with a sheath of forged paperwork and a toddler. He could see the nurses and doctors in a frenzy, trying to figure out how Mr. Gold had even heard of the anonymous patient in the basement and whether or not they really had to hand her over. Everything would check out, though. He'd assigned himself power of attorney over a Miss Isabelle Rose who had gone missing just about the time the nameless young woman had appeared in the psychiatric ward. She matched the description perfectly, and the whole process was only waiting on visual confirmation she was the same woman. The only flaw in his paperwork was the lack of photographs of the lady in question, but he hoped that wouldn't be noticed by a staff unused to any sorts of questions.
"Mr. Gold," Dr. Frankenstein's curse persona said as he walked into the lobby. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting."
"Not a problem," Rumplestiltskin said, shaking the other man's hand. "I understand you need to go over the papers, naturally. I trust everything is in order?"
"It appears to be," Frankenstein said. "You'll have to forgive us, this is the first we've ever heard of her having a name or a family."
"So I understand," Rumplestiltskin replied. "I hadn't known she was still in town or I assure you I'd have come for her sooner."
"Yes, so I gathered," Frankenstein glanced through the assembled papers as he spoke. "You'll forgive me asking how you came to be her legal guardian?"
"Family friend," he lied smoothly. "Once she lost her parents I stepped in."
"And you retained her power of attorney past her eighteenth birthday?" Frankenstein asked. "And didn't realize she was missing?"
Rumplestiltskin shrugged as nonchalantly as possible before replying.
"She's a very troubled young woman," he replied. "As I'm sure you've noticed."
Frankenstein looked up at him quickly and Rumplestiltskin held his gaze until finally the doctor seemed to decide he wasn't worth the trouble.
"Alright," the man said at last. "I'll have her out in a moment."
"No need," Rumplestiltskin said quickly. "I'd like to see her before she leaves."
The doctor shrugged and called to an orderly who led Rumplestiltskin through a locked door and down a set of stairs where a stern looking nurse waited, but said nothing as the two men passed her desk into a hallway lined with doors. They stopped in front of one that didn't have a name listed on it and the man unlocked it and opened the door.
There was a girl sitting on a cot, and at the sight of the two men in the doorway she quickly backed away as far as she could, pressing her back against the wall. Blue eyes locked on Rumplestiltskin's and he knew. He'd have recognized her anywhere, and here she was – except not really. His Belle was brave and lively, this woman was terrified and confused but she was hope. She was salvation and she was alive.
The first thing Rumplestiltskin did was set Henry down on the floor. Belle's eyes instantly went to the little boy as he crawled across the floor to her bedside and pulled himself up onto unsteady feet to examine this stranger. The toddler extended one chubby hand towards her and made a grabbing motion and she reached out and let him take her hand, which seemed to be all he had wanted.
"Who are you?" she said at last, turning towards Rumplestiltskin warily.
"A friend," he said. "I've come to take you home."
"Oh," she said before turning her attention back towards the toddler. She didn't ask him any other questions and he couldn't do much besides stare at her in disbelief that she was really alive. He wanted to pinch himself to make sure he was really awake, except Henry could see her, too. The boy had climbed up onto the cot and she'd stiffened, as though she were a little afraid, but when he started pawing at her hair she smiled and Rumplestiltskin felt his heart breaking all over again. He had to get her out of here.
There had been no bags to pack for her, no belongings to recover. She left the hospital with an ill fitting skirt and a sweater from the lost & found and a pair of sandals. He would need to get her a full wardrobe and whatever toiletries she would need but first he needed to get her back to his house and just reassure himself that she was safe and couldn't be taken away again. He'd had a few dresses at the pawn shop that looked like they might fit her, so he'd put those into a spare bedroom in preparation for her arrival but otherwise there was nothing there otherwise that seemed like Belle.
"You knew me before?" she asked him when he showed her to her room.
"I did," he said. "It was another lifetime."
She smiled weakly and went to examine one of the dresses he'd left on the bed for her.
"Can I ask you a question?" she asked, looking back from a bright yellow sundress to make sure he wouldn't mind. "What did you call me?"
"Belle," he said. "Your name is Belle."
"Belle," she repeated as though she were testing the word to see how it felt on her tongue. "And what should I call you?"
He opened his mouth to answer her, but he had nothing to tell her. Regina hadn't ever given him a curse name, and he didn't dare tell her it was Rumplestiltskin.
"Mr. Gold," he said at last. "You can call me Mr. Gold."
She smiled again and he left her to get settled in. He still owed Jefferson some magic, at any rate, and he had a lot of blueprints to go over to that respect.
Nothing ever changed in Storybrooke, but one day a little girl named Grace woke up in the home of a father she had forgotten she had. In the Gold household, things settled into a comfortable sort of routine. Henry was growing faster every day, and Belle was settling into a routine. She still got confused easily, but he'd begun to feel comfortable leaving Henry alone with her sometimes and she loved him. Rumplestiltskin thought perhaps it was that Henry didn't expect her to know things, and he was content to listen to her read.
Henry grew, and no one noticed. Sometimes it was hard to see Belle chasing after a little boy who looked so much like Baelfire, but there was a strange sort of catharsis in it as well. Henry was growing, and every inch taller was a visible sign that Baelfire was closer. The years flew by and Rumplestiltskin waited and watched. The savior would arrive eventually, and Henry would somehow be the key that would bring her here.
At night, he told them stories. He told them of true love and princesses, dragons and heroes. He told them about Snow White and Prince Charming, Cinderella, and even a bit about Rumplestiltskin. He told them about the Evil Queen and the Savior who was the only one who could free the people from the lives they'd been trapped in. When Henry was tucked in, sometimes he would tell Belle stories as well. Belle he told about ogres and beasts, and a brave woman who wanted to be a hero so badly she could learn to love a monster. He also told her of a man who had been foolish and risked too much only to lose everything, and who had given up on himself and on anyone loving him.
He wasn't sure how any of these stories were being taken. Henry was coming of an age when he would believe almost anything he was told, but with Belle he was never sure what she really thought. He spent hours at a time watching her and looking for a glimmer of the woman she had been. Sometimes it came through, but sometimes he was sure he was simply driving himself mad by waiting for a miracle.
The very best nights were the ones where she would let him touch her. It was a liberty that he never asked her for, but on the occasional evening when he perhaps had told her a sadder story than usual she would join him on the sofa in the living room and quietly rest her head on his shoulder. At first, he'd simply sat there barely daring to move, but as time went on he'd become bolder, wrapping his arm around her and petting her hair with tentative fingers. She'd always respond to his touches in kind, though, and the first moment he felt her hand in his hair he almost threw himself at her feet and begged for her to come back and just become the woman who had loved him again. He'd have promised her the world, and himself, and whatever else she could have demanded. This time he wouldn't flinch, he'd trust and they could be happy if she could just remember – but she couldn't. Not yet, anyway.
Time went on, and Henry was growing. Rumplestiltskin knew it was only a matter of time now before the Savior would arrive. Henry had begun noticing things that were strange – how he was the only one in his school who ever seemed to move up grades, how the maid at the inn had been pregnant his entire life, and the way that nobody ever came to the town. He was also beginning to notice that nobody was ever truly happy.
He'd grown to love the boy too much for his own good, and Rumplestiltskin had let himself be talked into doing little things to help the town. There were rent extensions given, a library reopened, and everyone said Mr. Gold had gone soft. Perhaps it was true; he'd certainly never been one to show mercy before and no one had ever shown mercy to him. He simply couldn't find it in his heart to see Henry's disappointment, though. And besides, it made Belle happy as well. There was no getting around the fact that the savior would arrive in due time and save them. That fact had been built into the curse the moment he had put Charming and Snow's hair into the potion, and if the terrifying Mr. Gold spent the remaining time making this makeshift little family love him then what harm could it really do?
The time for the savior was soon approaching, at any rate. Henry was so big now, and he had begun asking more questions.
"Why doesn't Belle notice that I'm getting older?" Henry asked one morning in October.
"It's because you're growing so fast," Rumplestiltskin replied with a smile. "You're like a weed."
"No, not like that," Henry said. "I mean sometimes she talks about things that happened when I was four like it was yesterday but she doesn't remember that I was four."
"You know how her memory is," Rumplestiltskin said. He wanted to tell Henry the truth, but something in him was sure that the boy had to come to this revelation all by himself. In every good story, the hero had to reach the truth on his own. "She's probably just confused."
Henry had seemed a little disturbed by that, and Rumplestiltskin could practically see the boy's determination bubbling just underneath the surface. He looked more and more like his grandfather every day, and more than that he shared the same need to do what was right and good and just. The boy was smarter than Rumplestiltskin ever remembered the shepherd-prince being, though. He was a thinker, and he definitely had his own plans that he hadn't shared. It was only a matter of time now.
On October twenty ninth, Belle woke Rumplestiltskin up frantic. Henry had vanished, and she didn't know what had happened. His clothes were all still there, the only things missing in the end being a credit card and a book. The time had come.
"It's alright," he whispered to her, holding her tight for the very first time. "He's going to be okay. I promise."
They called the sheriff, though Rumplestiltskin knew it was a waste of time. Henry would return, and he would bring the savior.
Belle was hysterical all day in spite of his reassurances – she had come to love Henry in spite of the curse and in spite of her memory. Late that night there was the sound of a car in the drive, and when they went to the door there was a yellow Volkswagen coming to a stop. He braced himself for his first look at the savior. He'd been waiting so long to meet her.