The touch to her waist was not unwelcomed, but it was certainly unexpected. The feeling of his hand against the thin fabric of her dress brought her back to the surprising reality that she had found herself in, and sent a shudder through her body. At that, he flinched and pulled away, looking apologetic. He had forgotten himself for a moment. Or, at least, the 'himself' that she remembered.
Belle's sense of self had been returned to her only hours earlier, and even with it guiding her judgement, the man in her memories was not wholly the man who stood before her now.
His skin was a little different, for one, both in colour and in texture. However, though it had been a long while since they'd touched, he was fairly sure that she would be glad about that. And he was dressed differently. Upon his discovery of this world's rather dapper idea of simple sophistication in fashion, he'd favoured it over the masses of leather, silk and fur that he had become accustomed to during the time she'd spent at his estate. He had a cane now – he could not stride or bow to her, and he wouldn't try.
None of that seemed to phase Belle at this moment, though that made sense – she'd never been one to make judgements based on appearances. Oh, she was so wonderfully benevolent. In the whole scheme of things, whether it was fortunate or unfortunate circumstance for her, he was still the same Rumplestiltskin: sadistic. Vengeful. Dangerous.
Scarred.
Loved.
She hadn't ever meant to shudder at his touch, but it had caught her off guard. Because, yes, despite him remaining so similar to the man she had once known, a gesture so intimate and gentle had taken her by surprise. The Dark One had been able to touch her whilst physically restraining himself, yes, but there had seldom been times when his showman-like mannerisms had been pulled away and his touch had simply been … human. Where touch showed little intention other than simply wanting to express something. Something that hadn't been there before.
And yet, here he was. Still all the things that had frightened all others away. Still powerful. Still the one with his name etched into the Dark One's dagger. But newly careful. And trying.
Mortality was a good colour on him.
Belle gave him a smile, so as to assure him that she hadn't minded his hands on her. "Sorry," she said quietly. "I guess I'm just not used to having my guard up."
He frowned. "I hope you don't feel like you have to have your guard up around me."
"No, it's just … it seems like there's a version of everyone else who knows how this world works. I don't have one and it's just very new. Everything I see is something to be examined or explained or read about. I don't want to get too lost in thought, that's all." She peered curiously at an old phone box that hadn't been used in years as they rounded another corner and linked their arms to minimise the distance between them. That even brought a little smile to his face, and she was glad to see it. Perfectly ineffable thoughts of hoping she would never step away filled his head and made him savour the feeling.
"You always were a bit of a daydreamer," Gold remarked. "I'm sure it used to take you hours to clean a room if there was a pretty sunrise that day, or if birds were out."
"Why didn't you ever say anything?" she asked him, almost sure she was blushing from his very true words.
He just shrugged. "I guess you looked … content."
It was the truth. If forever were to pass while he watched his spinning wheel, then it would be something of a comfort to at least know she was out there, content, while watching the spinning world. Either appreciating it or longing for it so long as she was stuck inside his castle.
Belle stopped walking and tilted her head upwards. "It's too bad – my first night free and I can't even see the stars." She paused, and a look of panic crossed her face. She directed it at Gold. "There are stars here, right?"
"Yes – it's just cloudy out tonight," he answered. They were nearly back to the shop when an icy raindrop tapped the tip of Belle's nose. She blinked in surprise, and then they both looked up to watch the heavens open on them. Gold grimaced and walked as quickly as he could in the direction of the shop. She laughed happily as she pulled him along. "What's the hurry?" she said, calling over the suddenly deafening sound of rain.
"Come on – you'll get all wet, love," he replied as they reached the door he had wanted to find. He pushed it open and the little bell chimed, signalling entry, and waited for her to enter before him. But she just stood on the sidewalk and smiled at him. He cocked his head towards the inside of the shop once more and her grin only grew wider.
"I've been locked up for twenty eight years, Rumple – you think I'm going to miss my first rainstorm? I'm finally close enough to touch it and you're telling me to go inside because I'll get wet?" Her tone was not accusatory – she still beamed at him. She tossed her head back and held out her arms and just felt the rain on her body for a moment – utterly and totally free.
Then Belle ran to him and pulled him out of the sheltered shadows and into the empty street, the pavement shining golden with rain and the light of street lamps. He kept up with her tugging as best he could, and eventually they were in the full wake of the downpour.
And he stood there, accepting it, feeling the rain drum against his skin, and he smiled for her. For the lionhearted girl whose spirit couldn't be broken by even eternal captivity.
"See?" she said loudly, holding her arms out again. "No harm done!"
A chuckle shook his body and suddenly she stepped closer and her hands were on his chest. Then one in his hair, tucking a loose strand behind his ear.
"You should come out and enjoy the world a little more," she told him, not loudly this time, because she was close enough to speak softly.
"There wasn't much to see," he replied.
"Is there, now?" she asked, and the hope in her voice and her eyes.
That same smile tugged relentlessly at his lips. "Of course," he muttered against her skin, and pressed a kiss softly to her lips.