So It seemed that Madam Mayor had lied to our dearest imp. At first he thought to himself how boring and predictable it all was. He'd become indifferent to her machinations years ago. Still, though, he began to realize that he wasn't really the wronged party in all of this. He'd lost his love, yes, but he'd done that to himself. To think that his Belle had been locked away for so long in solitude, it was a wonder to him that she'd managed to stay sane. How could Belle, who thought of Regina as nothing more than a kind Lady who had tried to help her be with her beloved, have felt when the witch – the bitch – scooped her up and kept her away from everyone she had ever cared for. A woman like Belle could never lead a solitary life.
Strangely, his thoughts trailed off of the rising indignation he felt on behalf of his returned beloved. He found himself remembering her love of stories and books. He'd often listen to her titter or gasp at something she had read while he spun, wondering if she was simply enjoying the book or escaping from him through it. Even then he was always suspicious of her. He hated himself for it.
His thoughts turned back to his other hatred. Regina. "I could have saved her...She needed me..." He picked up the chipped tea cup from his mantle and turned it over in his hands. "You're a coward, Rumpelstiltskin.." He whispered to himself, remembering their last words. "Never again.."
"Oh, it's chipped..." She had walked up behind him rather silently. Startled, he nearly dropped it, and then nearly fell trying to catch it. Gingerly, he set the cup down. She looked at him with genuine worry. "Sorry, so sorry.." She grabbed his shoulder just before he turned around, to try and steady him.
"...It's just a cup..." He muttered, a bit choked up. Clearing his throat he managed a smile toward her. "Sleep well, Dearie?" He put a hand over hers, trying to remember that she didn't remember him just yet. He walked with her over to his living room and motioned for her to take a seat. Gentlemen always waited.
"Well, it's a lovely one. Shame it's broken." He wanted to tell her he liked it that way, but left it. "Oh, right...Yeah, it was great to have a real shower and bed for once." That accent of hers always got him. He was glad of the fact that more members of the town hadn't had it. "I can't thank you enough for this, Mr. Gold. Really...I don't want to be a burden."
"Not at all, Belle, not at all." His voice was soft and low, very much unlike his tone when she knew him previously. All part of the lack of magic here, he was human again. He could do those caring things that an imp could not.
"I mean...I could..." She thought. "I don't think I've ever really cooked or anything, but...there must be something I can do..." He smiled at her in that distant way he did when they met outside the store. She cocked her head. "What, whats so amusing." She asked, thinking she'd heard him giggle a little. It was an echo of memory that Regina had buried
"Nothing, Dearie." He brushed dome hair from her face. "If you really want to help, then you are free to. I only want you comfortable. Deal?" She made an odd face at him and then laughed the way one does when they have given up trying to find an explanation for that purple elephant in their pocket.
Eying him one more time she nodded slowly. "Should I know something, Mr. Gold?"
"In time, you will remember, Belle. Until then, just remember that I'm here to protect you, and care for you." He moved to touch her face, but pulled back. "I can't lose you to her again..."
Gold closed his eyes and sighed, and jumped as she reached out and cupped his hand with hers. "Whatever happened to you, I'm so sorry."
"No, Belle. I'm sorry, But that's all going to change." He stood up and plastered on his lawyer's smile, holding out an arm to her. "Now come along. I'll bet you're starving. Look at you, so thin." He clicked his tongue a few times and whisked her away to the kitchen before she had a chance to say anything. It seemed things were already getting back to normal in the House of Gold. They had a long day, though. He'd not informed her yet of the rules of the house. He'd not wanted to tell her she was being locked up again, even if it was for her own safety. It could wait, he didn't open the shop on Sundays anyway.