Someone (I can't find it now!) prompted a Rumbelle fic where we find Belle back at Gold's shop after she sees them off on Hook's ship.
Here we go…
Rated: T
Belle stood before the door of his shop for long moments before she gathered the courage to go in. Breathing had suddenly become an act of will. She had lingered at the docks, hiding behind a stack of old wooden crates, hot, salty tears spilling unbidden from her eyes to mingle with the taste of the sea air on her lips and the salt wind blowing cold across her stinging cheeks. She watched until the ship bearing away her beloved disappeared beneath the dark, swirling waves, and then she watched the empty space where the ship had been for long moments more, until she could will her leaden feet to move.
Belle collected her wits enough to follow the instructions on the scroll he had given her to the letter. Rumple had tasked her with casting the cloaking spell he created to keep Storybrooke safe from the outsiders, and she was reasonably sure that the ozone-tang of electricity on her tongue and the oily, purple-black smoke that had engulfed the town meant all was as it should be. She could do that much, ensure that they would be safe. That Rumple's spell would keep them all protected, she knew; she only wished with all her heart that she could feel the same certainty for them. For Snow and Charming, Henry, Emma and even Regina. For her Rumplestiltskin most of all.
Belle's shaking hand rested on the doorframe for long, aching minutes before she turned the handle and entered the shop. His shop. His space, full of so many things he had collected through the long years. The merry tinkling of the welcome bell as she entered was the only sound, but it quickly died away, leaving an oppressive stillness to hang heavy in her ears. Her heart crumbled as she looked about her, remotely registering surprise at how such a filled and cluttered space could feel so utterly empty. Sparkling motes of dust floated in silent witness through the slanting rays of the setting sun as she stood there poised on the edge of a knife, deciding whether to stay or flee.
Not two hours ago, this quiet space had been alive with the uninhibited sounds of their desperate reunion. So sure that their world was ending, all they had both wanted was to die with their senses filled with one another, forgetting that anything else had ever mattered. Bae was gone and Rumple was heartbroken, but he could lose himself and drown in her love one last precious time, the only woman to ever truly give him her whole self in all his long and weary life.
Belle's stomach sank as she took an echoing step forward, and then another, her small fists balled stubbornly at her sides, nails digging into the soft flesh of her palms. She was sure if she looked at them, they would be scored with the purple half moons of her anguish. Her bottom lip gripped painfully between her teeth, she made her way, one step at a time through the shop to his office and the big backroom where they had lain together on the worn wood worktable. She lifted her hand to part the curtain and took a deep, steadying breath as she stepped through.
No one understood her Rumplestiltskin, the quiet man she loved so fiercely that it took her breath away sometimes. They only saw Mr. Gold, the cold, intractable landlord who never gave ground; the man (or monster) who would trade you your heart's desire for something even more dear, something you would surely regret in the end. They saw only the empty-hearted monster who held wealth and power above all.
They never saw the man who was so full of love that he spent lonely lifetimes trying to find his lost son. Many hundreds of weary years of work, and more years in an empty cell than would drive anyone mad (and she should know!), just for a chance to tell his son that he loved him. Just for a chance to say he was sorry, that he hadn't meant to break their deal. They didn't see the man who cherished a chipped teacup and kept it close just because it was the only physical thing he'd had to remind him of her. It was the only thing he had to remind him that power was nothing without love.
Everything was as they had left it, when they had hurried out to see what the world was doing. There was Baelfire's shawl, folded neatly on the near side of the old pine table. Sitting next to it was the cup, their teacup, still filled with the glowing, blue dregs of the fairy's potion that had banished Lacey and brought Belle back to Rumple for those precious few moments.
Belle cursed herself now, for being the one to pull herself away afterwards, curious as to why they were still alive and whole. Oh! Why was her curiosity so insatiable! If only they had stayed like that, naked and trembling in each other's arms, he would still be here with her, not gone. Gone beyond her reach. Gone to give himself to save his grandson, his flesh and blood. Gone to give himself to honor Baelfire, his heart and soul.
It hit her like a physical blow in the gut that he was gone, and that for all her brave words at their parting, Belle wasn't at all sure she would ever see him again. She reached for the cup, her fingers tracing the chipped rim before picking it up gently and cradling it to her heaving breast. Belle sank to her knees, clutching the symbol of their love and let the wracking sobs of loss finally take her.