He is nervous.
It is so unexpected that Belle doesn't even realize it until after the town has left and they are alone for the first time. He hasn't been like this around her since the first days of their acquaintance, when everything was new and frightening, when he was still trying to convince her to believe in the mask and not the man behind it.
Rumple had given the Charmings key information about each of the three sorceresses weaknesses, an easy enough task when one has a gauntlet that shows such things. David, Snow, Emma, Regina, even Hook all rushed off after that, eager to put their new information to good use. Snow spared one last glance at Belle, giving her a short little nod before they left. The others, so concerned with her safety only moments ago, turned and left without so much as a backward glance. There were other things to occupy their minds now.
Rumple isn't looking at her, staring down at his feet and rubbing his fingers together in that nervous habit of his. He hasn't said a word to her since he dealt for her. She's not entirely sure he knows what to do next. He always seems to have a plan, except when it comes to her.
"Now what?" she ventures, and Rumple jumps at her intrusion, glancing up at her as though he's only just remembered her presence.
When he only continues to stare at her, she tries again.
"You wanted me, now you have me. What do we do now?"
It takes longer for the mask to descend this time, longer to put away his emotions and turn hard. But he manages it all the same.
"You're still my wife, dear," he says harshly. "Now we go home."
Belle has to suppress an eye roll. His posturing doesn't work on her, as he well knows. And anyway, they don't have a home. She has taken possession of both the salmon colored Victorian where Mr. Gold lived and the shop. She even has his car. Just where has he been living this past week?
"And where is that?" she asks.
"I've been staying at the cabin," he says shortly. "Seeing as you've commandeered my other properties…"
"We're married," she interrupts, wishing the words didn't make her flinch. "It's communal property."
There's not a chance she's letting him take her back to that cabin. It's the place they spent their wedding night, filled to bursting with fresh flowers and soft candlelight. It's the place they came together for the first time as husband and wife, when the world was a forgiving place and second chances a tangible thing. The last time she'd been there, she was filled with hope and completely secure in her husband's love for her. To go there now would break those memories, destroy them. She needs those memories unblemished if she's to carry on.
"Then I suppose home is our estate," he sneers. "Come along, little wife."
He clasps his hand around her waist and there is a swirl of smoke as the earth disappears beneath her. A second later they are in the living room of the house, exactly as she'd left it this morning, exactly as he'd left it two months ago. She hasn't done much living in that time.
"So how does this work?" she continues, when the purple storm of magic has dissipated and they are just two estranged people taking up too much of each other's space. Rumple drops his hand from her waist and steps away quickly.
There is anger inside her. He dealt for her, asked for her back, and she agreed to go with him. She thought, perhaps, he'd want to talk, discuss their relationship and how to move forward. But it appears he gave as little thought to his request this time as he had back in the Enchanted Forest. It's clear he has no clue what to do next.
"I'm not your prisoner," she can't help but land the blow. She knows he regrets how he treated her at the beginning of their acquaintance.
"Of course not," he snaps. "You're my wife." The word sounds acidic on his tongue. "My dearly beloved wife who would never betray me, who loves all of me, who made a promise, a deal, to be mine forever."
The words are sarcastic and bitter. The nervous energy that surrounded him earlier has disappeared as he draws closer, his face inches away from hers and fury in his eyes. He is angry with her, but more than that he's hurt. He is in pain, and she is the cause.
"Yes," she replies, with a voice that only trembles slightly. "I do love you. I've always loved you."
Rumple scoffs and pulls away, the sudden distance between them making her whole body cold. She'd worked so hard for so long to make him believe in her love and now it's gone. He can no longer see it.
"I love you enough to know that the man crushing Hook's heart, the man who trapped people in a hat, who would abandon everyone in town to die, is not the man you really are."
"Yes it is," he counters with a flourish, calling upon the mannerisms that served him so well in the past. "You just never wanted to see it. I fooled myself into believing you really cared for me, but you never have. You love an idealized version of me, a man who will never exist. You set me up to fail and I was so fucking desperate for you that I let it happen."
Belle isn't sure what to say to counter that so she just shakes her head. He isn't perfect, he is filled with darkness and hatred and hurt, but she knows that decent man exists. She's seen it shine through time and time again. At the town line, when she banished him, she'd thought perhaps she'd been wrong. The power and the magic overwhelmed him, but the good man is still there. He has to be, or her entire adult life has been a lie.
Rumple scoffs again at the shake of her head, at her determination to always see the good in him even when it's buried so deeply she questions if it's really there.
He turns away from her, slamming his hand against the bookshelf set into one wall. Several books rattle off the shelf to clatter against the floor and she has to restrain herself from rushing to pick them up.
"Are you going to hurt me?" She already knows the answer to that question, but she wonders if he does. He turns to face her and there is a flicker of something in his eyes, something like fear. For the first time, she wonders how much his curse affects him, if he is a slave to it as he once was to Zelena. It's funny that she'd never thought of it that way before, expecting him to change without understanding the nature of the horrible thing that drives him.
"Are you afraid of me?" he answers her with a question of his own.
"No," she replies truthfully. She's never feared him. Even when he ranted and raged, when he threw her in a dungeon and smashed his castle to bits, she knew he'd never hurt her. He'd locked her away safely before he flew into a rage. He doesn't trust himself with her and he never has. Is that why he lied so completely and so often in their short marriage? He didn't trust her either, not to stay with him if she saw him at his worst.
"Belle," he rasps out, his voice cracking on the word. It's the first time he's said her name since he returned. He doesn't seem to know what to say after that, her name hanging in the air between them.
"We need to talk," she agrees, though he hasn't said it in as many words. "About everything, even the things you don't want to talk about. Especially the things you don't want to talk about."
"I wanted to talk that night at the town line," he reminds her. "You had no interest then."
"Because you only wanted to placate me," she counters. "You wouldn't have been honest. You made so many mistakes since our wedding, but I did too. You were hurting and I didn't…" she stutters to a stop, a lump in her throat choking her words.
He steps closer toward her, his hand jerking out as if to reach for her before falling limply at his side. This is strange and unusual and neither of them know the rules. They've never been this tense around each other, this uncertain. Even when she was his maid, chipping his cups and calling his bluffs, they were never this awkward. Is he allowed to touch her? Can you seek comfort in the arms of the one who wronged you?
Belle realizes with a sense of shame that she's not strong enough for this. She's tried so hard tonight, she stood with the town and watched her husband, always the outcast, demand her in payment for his help. She agreed to go with him on her own terms, a man who destroyed her faith in true love. She is here, alone with him, hurting and angry and guilty. And she can do no more tonight.
"It's late," she says, glancing down at the floor and feeling every inch a coward.
"Then go to bed," he sighs, relief slumping his shoulders. He wants out of this conversation as much as she does. They will try again tomorrow.
She wishes more than anything that the past two months had never happened. If it had been two months ago, she would have taken his hand and lead him upstairs to their bed. He would have wrapped her in his arms and held her close, any and all problems fading into the background as she basked in the knowledge that she loved and was loved in return. But the memory sours as she wonders how long he waited until after she was asleep to steal away and meet with the Snow Queen under cover of darkness. How often did he leave her in bed to do dark deeds with Hook as his unwilling lackey? Did he keep the pirate's heart close by at all times? Was it in the room when he loved her? The thought makes her stomach clench and bile rise up the back of her throat.
And she hates herself for thinking that if she could forget all that, she would. If she could curl up in Rumple's arms and take solace in his body, she would. The knowledge makes her cringe and doubt her heart. Is she a hero? Heroes shouldn't be so weak, so easy to manipulate.
"And where will you…" she starts before she can stop herself.
"Don't worry. I'll keep my distance."
His words are a reassurance that he won't take any liberties. That just because she is still his wife, he won't press his advantage. Does he honestly believe she fears that? The thought that he'd do such a thing hasn't even entered her mind. Her fears are for quite the reverse. That she would allow him in her bed, despite everything, just to make the hurt lessen ever so slightly. Even though it would do far more harm than good.
No, he is not a monster. And she is not a hero. They are both just broken.
She turns and heads for the stairs, her tail between her legs. But before she reaches them, she realizes there is one more question she must ask.
"Why did you want me here?" she asks, turning at the foot of the stairs to gaze back into the darkened living room. He is merely a shadow, a dark shape in the light of a single lamp.
"I should think that was obvious," he says, his voice calm and even. "You're my happy ending."
The words lance through Belle's heart. Because if this is an ending, it certainly isn't happy.