AN: This is a Christmas present for my friend, Sarah. Sorry it's not as angsty as you usually like, but I hope it's okay. Love you!

Neal looked above at the morning light shining through the tree tops. It was a dim light, filtered through gray clouds and thick leaves. He walked through the forest, careful to watch his footing in unfamiliar territory. Every now and then he paused to make sure Belle was doing alright. She could keep up surprisingly well- he had barely had to slow down for her at first- but lately they had been going slower and slower. Not that he had any complaints. They had no set destination in mind, yet, and he would rather she slow down than push herself too hard. The last thing they needed was Belle getting sick.

The two stopped when they came across a wide, shallow stream. "Wait here," Neal said as he walked a short ways downstream. Belle refilled their water pouches as he walked back and forth along the stream.

"There's a log someone cut down just a few yards from here, made it into a bridge," Neal reported when he returned from around the river bend. "We can use it to cross."

Belle furrowed her eyebrows at him. "The stream's not that strong, we can walk across."

"Are you sure you want to get wet?" Neal asked lightly. Gesturing towards her feet he said, "Your shoes will be soaked for hours."

Belle rolled her eyes. "Who cares about my shoes? It's only ankle deep. I'm more concerned with walking on a flimsy log in heeled boots." She stood up slowly from beside the stream, brushing off her dirty skirt. It was out of habit more than anything. They had spent some time in the forest, and at this point it would be hopeless to try and brush off all the dirt that had accumulated. She had only changed clothes once or twice since arriving, and that had been out of necessity. They had no place or money to settle down, so taking the clothes with them hadn't been an option. How she missed washing machines. She continued, "I don't want to fall off."

Neal wanted to protest, but held his tongue. He watched as she fidgeted with her long skirts, stained and tattered around the bottom. She ran her hands across the fabric, smoothing it out, her hands coming to rest atop her swollen belly. Neal sighed. Belle had been perfectly fine the first few months of the pregnancy. That is to say, as fine as someone in her situation could be. She didn't want to be fussed over (though with the others, there was no helping it, especially Emma's parents, Grumpy, and Granny) and she always wanted to pull her weight when things needed to be done. It was only in the last month or so, as she was getting closer to the end of it, that she had started to worry.

They had first found out when she was about a month or two along, though it was hard to tell without a calendar handy. None of them were absolutely certain how long they had been there when Belle found out, but she definitely knew when she had conceived (which Neal didn't want to think about too much, but he was just going to guess his dad and Belle were really happy to be reunited and leave it at that).

Snow and Granny had talked to Belle and given her some advice, but they had all parted ways not long after finding out. And he was obviously no help in that department. At this point, Belle had more than the right to be a little overcautious. Especially with the kind of lives they had been leading.

"Okay, we'll cross here." He started to gather up medium-sized rocks and toss them into the stream. Belle noticed what he was doing and started to protest.

"It's all right. You really don't have to do that, we can just cross."

"I insist," he said, emphasizing his second word as he lifted a large rock from the forest.

"No, really. Thank you, but I don't want you to trouble yourself."

"It's safe if you have a dry bridge, right? Besides, it's never troubling myself when I'm helping out family." That was a lesson he'd learned from his father, back before the magic. Belle smiled at him, touched, and he could see how this woman could change someone as damaged as Rumplestiltskin. Even in sweaty summer heat with storm clouds swirling above, in torn and soiled clothes, after hiking for two weeks, ready to burst, she still managed to be bright. Enduring.

"At least let me help." Belle walked along the forest edge with Neal and brought back the stones she could carry without too much unneeded stress. He took the stones they gathered and continued to toss them across the wide stream.

He tested the ones closest, and tossed more stones in from on top of them, until he had a make-shift stepping-stone bridge all the way across. He tested out each of them; a few wobbled, but stayed where they needed to be. He held out his hand to Belle and she took it. Cautiously, she placed her foot on the first stone. When she felt stable enough on that foot, she stepped on to the next one. They crossed the stream slowly, Belle moving from stone to stone as she held on to Neal's arm for balance. Neal walked beside her in the stream.

"Thank you," Belle said when they got to the other side. Neal was shaking water off of his boots when he felt Belle grip his arm tighter. He looked over to see that she was bent over slightly, holding her stomach and looking like she was about to throw up.

His eyes grew wide. "Hey, hey, are you alright?"

She nodded and loosened her grip, regaining her composure. "Yes, I'm fine, just…a really hard kick I think." They didn't know how long it had been, but it definitely hadn't been a full nine months yet. Maybe seven or eight, but it was still early. Neal took back what he thought before- the last thing they needed was Belle going into labor in the middle of the forest. When it came down to it, Neal didn't think he could deliver a baby; not even his own sibling. Belle looked up at the darkening clouds. "We should probably find a village."

The two decided to follow the stream. Where there was water, there were people. They figured they would find a shelter eventually. The area was in disarray ever since they were sent back, so the chances of finding a bustling city were slim. They would have to take their chances with whatever they could find, be it a town or an old shed.

Hours later they found themselves going slower and stopping every few minutes. Belle insisted she was alright, but she didn't look it. Her face was pale and sweating, and she was grimacing almost constantly. A clap of thunder sounded, warning them of a coming storm. There was still no rain so they had time, but not much. They needed to move fast. After almost half a mile of stopping and starting, Neal put his arm around Belle's waist and helped her walk as best he could. There was another clap of thunder and Belle cried out, doubling over in pain. Neal held her up and tried not to panic.

"Look at me, look at me, okay," he said hurriedly, "just breathe with me. In and out." He wasn't sure the breathing exercises he'd seen on television would help much, but she seemed to be calming down a little. He looked her in the eyes as they breathed together and he hoped he didn't look at terrified as he felt. Early or not, they both new it was time. As usual, luck wasn't on their side. They had separated from the others to prevent Belle from getting into danger before the baby was born, and now look where it had gotten them- alone, in the middle of the woods, with a storm on the way. They really could have used Granny right about now.

Still, things could be worse, they each thought to themselves as they hurried to find shelter before Belle couldn't move any longer, at least no one is after us. After this thought, Neal found himself looking over his shoulder every other minute to make sure he hadn't jinxed them. Belle was two preoccupied to consider irony.

The wind was blowing hard now, whipping their clothes and hair in their faces. The sky was dark as night and Neal was all but carrying his would-be step-mother. They had been walking for a long time now, and frankly Neal was impressed she had managed to come this far without collapsing. Personally, he had never given birth, but he knew it was agonizing. He didn't even think he had ever seen a birth. He tried not to think of Henry. He had been doing that a lot these days.

But as he heard Belle groan and cry out in pain, he couldn't help it. Guilt flooded through him as he thought of Emma, going through the same pain as Belle, both of them without the father of their child to comfort them. Neither he nor Rumplesiltskin had known they would be fathers, but this was different.

Neal would have never left if he had known about Henry- he had had a choice. Rumplestiltskin could never come back. Emma had gone through this pain alone, but Belle didn't have to. He would be there for her the way he hadn't been there for Emma, the way his father couldn't be now. The way Belle had been there for him all these months- sharing the pain of their losses, letting him cry and rage and fester in silence as he needed, always giving him space, a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear, or stern talking to as needed. She had offered him so much when she was going through just as much as he was. It was surprising how much she acted like a mother already, even when doing so unconsciously. He owed it to Belle to be there for her now. He owed it to all of them.

As the first few drops of rain began to fall, he spotted it: A mill wheel, turning in the stream. A mill hopefully meant a miller to help them, but more importantly it meant shelter. As they moved closer Neal was filled with a new rush of energy as he saw a light inside the window. The mill was on the opposite side of the stream, and it was much deeper here than it was before. Belle looked about ready to pass out.

His eyes darted between Belle and the mill. "Looks like we have no choice," he said. "Hold on tight." Without waiting for a response, Neal scooped Belle up in his arms and waded into the water. It was hard to keep his balance on the slippery rocks, the wind threatening to blow them over, the water coming up to his waist. Though the current wasn't too strong to walk, Neal was still unsteady on his feet. Belle's arms were wrapped around his neck to keep from falling. She took back every word she had said about the log bridge.

When they got to the other side, Neal didn't bother to put Belle back down. Exhausted as he was, he didn't know if she could make it to the door. They should have stopped moving a long time ago, but as the rain came down harder he was glad they didn't. He climbed out of the river and up a short slope to the window with the light coming through. He pounded on the window fast and hard until a blurry face appeared through the grimy glass, eyes widening when they saw Belle in obvious discomfort. The figure gestured towards the front door and raced to open it. Neal carried Belle to the front the mill just as the door swung open. A young girl, maybe sixteen, with long dark hair pulled back in braids and a dirt smudged face, ran to meet them.

"She's in labor!" Neal said, catching his breath. As if emphasizing his point, Belle gave another cry of pain as a contraction started. Without a word, the girl rushed them inside. It was a one room home with two small beds on opposite sides of the room. One was off to the side of the fireplace; the other was slightly larger and had a curtain half-drawn around it. Another girl, younger than the first, but with the same smudged face and dark hair, stood by the doorway, worry painted across her face.

The older girl started giving orders to her sister and Neal, who obeyed without question.

She pointed at them in turn. "Put water over the fire! Take her to the bed- no, the other one! Bring clean cloths and a blanket- and get a lantern over here!" They did as they were told. Neal laid Belle on the bed with the curtain drawn halfway around it as the younger sister hurried in her tasks. The older girl immediately set to work calming Belle down and trying to make her as comfortable as possible. Just being able to lie down was a relief to her. Neal brought the lantern from the kitchen table to the bedside as the girl removed Belle's wet cloak and shoes. Not knowing what to do with himself, Neal hurried to help the little girl carry a stack of quilts to Belle. The girls seemed to know what they were doing despite their age.

"Are your parents around?" Neal asked.

"No," the older girl said bluntly, offering no further explanation. Did they even have parents? The mill seemed to be in working order, and the younger was too little to be much help. One person couldn't run a mill, could they?

He dared to ask. "Where are they?"

The girl looked annoyed. "Dad's at the pub. Mum went to get him. The rain will keep them. Now stop asking questions and help your wife!" Her sister came up beside her with a bowl of water and a linen cloth, which she used to wife sweat from Belle's forehead.

Neal was surprised he was thinking clearly enough to be irritated. "She's not my wife."

The girl simply shrugged as she worked to arrange quilts over Belle. "Well I won't judge you for it; none of my business. My parents were the same."

Belle cried out and Neal ran to her side as the girl rushed to get her more water. "Ginny, get me the rosemary from the cupboard!" She called to her sister. Belle reached out her hand and Neal took it, her grip crushing his hand. He tried to reassure her but had no idea if he was helping any.

"You've done this before?" Neal asked the girl.

"A few times. Auntie's a midwife. Can't remember my herbs too well, but if Rosemary doesn't help with the pain, it'll at least make decent tea. That can't hurt."

Ginny brought her sister the rosemary and a fresh cup of hot water from the fire. As she worked, Neal was grateful for their unbelievable luck. Despite her age, this girl was confident enough to reassure him. He brushed hair out of Belle's face, keeping hold of her hand. She seemed to be in a daze. She was whimpering to herself; quietly, he heard her say, "Rumple…"

He gripped her hand tighter.

Turning back to the girl he asked, "What's your name?"

"What are yours?" She asked gruffly. Neal couldn't tell if she was irritated he kept interrupting her work to ask questions, or if she had finally decided she wanted to know the names of the people who had barged into her home uninvited.

"I'm Neal. Her name is Belle."

"Angelina. Angie. Get her to drink this." She handed him the rosemary drink.

"Hey, Belle, I need you to sit up, okay? I'll help you. Good. Just keep breathing like before, okay? Now I need you to drink this." He lifted the cup to her lips and poured it down her throat. She made a face, but kept it down.

She closed her eyes. "Thank you, Baelfire."

Belle was the only one left who knew him as "Baelfire." She called him Neal mostly, but from time to time she still called him by his old name. Part of him thought it was because it was the first and only name she had known him by for a long time. Another part told him it was because that was what Rumplestiltskin had called him. Whether it was to remind Neal or herself of this, he wasn't sure.

Neal looked at the empty cup in his hand. "It's no epidural, but it'll do," he muttered.

"A what?" Angie asked.

"Nothing," he replied, brushing her off. He couldn't be sure how long it had been, but some time later, Angie was at the foot of the bed, yelling at Belle to push as she held Neal's hand in a vice grip. Angie instructed Ginny to pour the hot water into a basin and bring it over. Through screams, blood, sweat, and tears, came a tiny reddish being, with a clearly healthy set of lungs. Angie washed blood off the baby, tied and cut the cord, and put out her hand for the blanket Ginny was holding. She gently handed the baby to Ginny and went back to help Belle with the afterbirth.

Exhausted as she was, Belle kept her eyes on the tiny infant the whole time. She finally loosened her grip on Neal's hand and started to relax. Ginny, looking unsure of what she was doing, approached Neal. "Would you like to hold your daughter?" she asked innocently.

"Oh, I'm not the father," he protested, this time more out of respect for the real parents than his own irritation. "I'm the brother."

The child raised her eyebrow at him. "Your niece, then?"

"Yeah, alright," he agreed. It was easier than explaining the real situation. Ginny took his response to be about holding the baby and placed her in his arms. She was still crying and red in the face, missing her mother's warm body. Neal made cooing noises and rocked her in his arms until she started to calm down. Belle looked at the two of them eagerly.

"Do you want to see your mom?"

Belle reached out her arms and Neal gingerly gave his new half-sister to her mother. She looked at her tenderly. "Hello," she said, "I've been waiting a long time to meet you." She rocked her in her arms, tears coming down her face as she smiled so big it hurt.

She had a scrunched nose, tiny, reaching hands, barely open eyes, and a mop of dark hair already on her head. He skin was pink and warm and she had finally stopped crying. "You are beautiful," Belle told her.

"She is. Just like her mother." Neal said it both because it was true, and because he knew it's what Rumplestiltskin would want to say.

"Well, I think she looks more like her father." It was so rare nowadays for Belle to speak of Rumple with such a huge smile on her face.

"Kinda hard to tell at this point."

"Oh, she looks like him. Trust me." Belle kissed her on the forehead.

Neal hadn't spent much time around newborns, so he would have to take her word for it. He suspected Belle hadn't spent much time around babies either, but he'd have to trust a mother's instinct for now.

Angie and Ginny had been cleaning up and were now resting by the fire. They were both drinking tea, with Ginny focused on her cup and Angie watching them from afar.

"I don't know how we can ever repay you," Belle said, gratitude clear in her tired voice. "We don't have much, but whatever we can give you…"

Neal panicked. He was grateful to the girls as well, but they couldn't spare any money and they had no more food. Angie waved an apathetic hand. "No need, ma'am. The look on this one's face was payment enough." She pointed to Neal. He wondered which face she was talking about- probably the look when Belle had crushed his hand- but thanked her for her kindness. She was very mature for her age.

"Does she have a name?" Ginny asked.

"Well I had given some names some thought," Belle replied, "but none of them seem to fit her. Most of them were for boys. I thought maybe Rose, or Maureen, or Marie, but…"

"How 'bout Angelina?" Neal suggested.

"I haven't got any ideas," Angie declared.

"I mean for her," he clarified. "What do you think?"

Belle considered it, looking at her daughter. "Angelina. That is a good name. And it's a way we can repay you." She smiled again. She couldn't seem to stop doing that. "Angelina," she said again, "my little angel."

"Guess it's settle then." Angelina, Neal thought, looking at her. Your Papa would have liked that name.

Angie shrugged apathetically, but behind her cup of tea Neal could see she was blushing. She was a good kid. He wouldn't mind naming his sister after her.

The girls offered to let them stay until Belle fully recovered, but they both knew they couldn't stay long. They weren't sure where they were going, but it was a bad idea to get attached. They knew they would have to leave eventually anyway.

It was already the next morning when the rain finally stopped, and after a full night's sleep, Belle was feeling well enough to walk. They didn't have much, but the girls made sure they ate breakfast before leaving. They really were too generous; Angie even gave them an old baby dress of Ginny's. It was too big for Angelina now, but she would grow into it. The sisters pointed them in the direction of the nearest village and bid them farewell.

Neal marveled at the good fortune that had come to them. If there was one day in the Enchanted Forest for them to have good luck, he was glad it was now. As they walked along the dirt road, Belle carrying a sleeping Angelina as Neal carried what was left of their supplies, Neal turned to Belle.

"So what now? Before our plan was to keep you safe until she came along, but now that she's here…And we don't know what's going on with the others. They might be under attack by ogres, or they might be perfectly safe. It might be safer to stay away from them, but what if something's going on?"

Belle shook her head. "If something were happening they would have found a way to contact us. They always find a way." But that was when he was around to help, Neal didn't add.

"I've been thinking…" Belle said.

"A dangerous pastime."

"What?"

"Never mind." He waved it off. "What were you thinking?"

She took a deep breath. "I've been thinking that I want my daughter to know her father. I want her to see where we met, where she came from." She looked him in the eyes. "I want to go to Rumple's castle."

They stopped walking. He hesitated. "I was there the last time I was in the Enchanted Forest. It's not the same as you remember it. It was looted a long time ago, we might not be the only ones there."

"I don't care. Even if we can't stay, I want to at least see it."

Neal placed a hand on her shoulder. "Are you sure you can do this? Go back after…everything?"

"I'm a lot stronger than I look." She placed her hand atop his. "I miss your father more dearly than anything, but erasing him from my mind isn't going to help. I need to go back. For me, and for her."

Neal sighed. Once Belle made up her mind, he couldn't change it. "Alright," he said, "but first we need to find out where we are."

"We can find a map in town."

"And we need more food."

"We'll find that in town as well."

"Then I guess it's settled."

They started off again, now with a goal in mind and a journey ahead.

"Don't worry dear," Belle reassured him jovially, "Step-Mum will take care of everything."