I added an extra scene to the end of the first chapter. It might seem a little rushed, but it seemed right to end the chapter on a more positive note.
I also want to be on the safe side and say that I do not own Grimm Fairy Tales or Sleepless in Seattle.
Part II: I'm Glad You Came and Sent Me On My Way, but I Remember Your Name
"Termites!" Mary said incredulously.
The exterminator shrugged, "You're actually lucky, you caught them before they had a chance to breed. Those things you saw flying around were the male and female termites that haven't shed their wings yet. They haven't gotten a chance to tunnel under your house."
"How long will it take to get rid of them?" Mary asked as she wrapped her robe around herself tightly to ward off the chill. All three of the women were standing outside speaking with the exterminator as twilight descended on Storybrook. None of them seemed too eager to go back inside now that they found out termites were beginning to nestle in their house.
The man scratched his grizzly chin, "Usually takes about a day to do a proper extermination, I'd say a few days just to be sure though."
Mary sighed and shuddered, "I think I might stay over at the inn instead." Mary looked over to Rose and Emma, "Will you guys be okay at the house?"
Emma shook her head, "I draw the line on bugs, I'll try to find another place to stay for a couple nights." The only concern Emma had was that with her criminal record and Rose's history, she worried that neither of them would be able to stay at the inn establishment.
Mary went to get a couple of her things out of the house while the exterminator wrote up some paperwork. With the large truck out front, a few people had stopped to see what was going on. Emma looked over to Rose, but the girl seemed to be perfectly calm with an afghan wrapped around her shoulders. "I take it you don't like termites either."
Rose shook her head and shuddered, returning Emma's smile. She had become so much more animated and expressive since they had first brought her here. Emma was so caught up in thinking about their accomplishments over the last few weeks that she had hardly noticed the dark car pulling up to the sidewalk. Rose looked over to and did a double take. Emma heard Rose gasp, and she followed the girls gaze to see Mr. Gold stepping out of his black car, his eyes set on the house. Rose put a hand over her mouth, looking away from him and then back over; unable to keep her gaze away. Emotion flashed in her gray blue eyes, complete shock and disbelief evident on her face. But then, just as instantly, her expression changed. Emma was immediately taken aback by the girl's sudden shift in expression. She no longer looked stricken as Emma had expected her to be. No, her whole face had flushed red and her eyes sparked with fury as she glared over at the man. Her chin had tilted up defiantly and her lips were pressed into a thin line. Her hand fell away from her face, both hands now curling and uncurling into fists as though she wanted to run over and punch him in the face.
He looked over at them and froze, Rose turned away and crossed her arms under her chest with a look of pure disgust and frustration.
"You're not going to attack him are you?" Emma asked.
Rose looked over to her in surprise, but she shook her head.
Emma raised her eyebrows, "Are you sure?"
Rose smirked; giving Emma a sidelong look with an evil glint in her eye. Her eyes flashed, looking more gray than their usual blue. She shook her head.
Emma smirked as well, an idea forming in her mind. Immediately, she tried to shove the thought aside. The last thing she wanted to do was put Rose into a situation where she could get hurt or end up hurting someone. Then all of their progress over the last few weeks would be for nothing. But at the same time, she remembered how Rose had been when she first came to them, vacant, empty. Then she had been happy, even seeming to be content. But never like this. She had never seen her angry, or even this incredibly passionate before. On top of that, she had never met another person beside herself who hadn't looked upon Mr. Gold with fear and distrust. No, this was much more than a simple dislike for a person.
"Wait here for a minute?" Emma asked as she started walking over to Mr. Gold. He eyed her approach warily, but Emma simply smiled. He could have no idea what she had in store for him.
...
"You have truly lost your senses." Mr. Gold growled.
Emma grinned as she took a swig of her beer, "I told you, this is the best alternative until the termites are taken care of."
He looked up at her from his seated state on the plush upholstered Victorian chair in the front room by the entryway, not even beginning to comprehend how he suddenly found himself in this position. "You and I both know that is not true."
"It's only for a few days." Emma said sitting across from him. "But there are a few things I need to have cleared up before I make a sure decision."
He glared at her, "Shouldn't you have thought about that before you brought her into my home."
"You said that you had had an acquaintance with her a while ago, exactly what kind of acquaintance was it?"
He didn't answer her, simply stared.
"Fine, then I've got another one for you." Emma said, serious, "Regina said that before Rose was committed, she was gone for several months. She didn't say as much, but she made it sound like you had something to do with her disappearance and her decline. Is it true?"
Something dark shifted in his eyes, but still he was silent, his fingers folded over the top of his cane. He got up and turned away from her, leaning against his cane as though he would simply leave the room.
Emma sighed, admitting defeat. She should have known that this wouldn't have worked out in the first place. "Fine, we'll find someplace else to stay." Emma said, also rising from her seat.
Mr. Gold finally spoke, his words low as he turned back to face her, "Alright, perhaps I might have had something to do with it." Then his tone changed, turned mocking. "I am after all the monster of this piece, anything that comes my way will surely be torn apart."
His eyes shifted behind Emma and his brow cleared. Emma looked to see Rose standing by the entrance, her eyes shimmering. Emma knew she wasn't happy about being here anymore than Mr. Gold, but she hadn't put up any fight in coming, and neither had he. Rose's eyes shifted to Emma as though just realizing that she was also there. She turned away from them and went up the fold back staircase to the guest room on the second floor of the house.
When Emma turned back to Mr. Gold, he had changed. He seemed drained, defeated. "You have no idea the risk your taking by bringing her here." He thought of Regina, how she would surely know about Rose staying in his home.
"Right now, Regina is the last thing I'm worried about." Emma said, guessing his thoughts. "I'm thinking about Rose, what might be best for her."
His brow darkened, turning into a fierce scowl, "And what if she tries to kill herself again Miss Swan? Could you live with the choice you have made if that should be the outcome?" He had seen the scars on her wrists, and had felt nausea roil within his stomach. He knew that she was not responsible for them, that they were another background Regina had given to her to fit the role of suicide. But it only reminded him of the last life, what had happened to her. There were several scenarios as to why she was still alive, but it didn't make him any less terrified that she would escape this life now that he had just found her after all these years.
"She's not the type." She stated with absolute confidence.
He frowned, "How could you be...?"
"Trust me, I've known a lot of different types of people in my life. I'll admit she's depressed, I'll admit she's lonely, but whatever choices she made in the past, she is not making those same choices again."
He seemed somewhat put at ease by this, there was of course the possibility that Regina had lied to him. He had contemplated it the moment he had heard that Belle was being kept within the ward. He had only been able to believe that Belle was gone because he couldn't find her within the future. He could foretell events more than twenty-eight years from now, but no matter how hard he had looked, he could not find her. That was the only reason he had believed her to be gone. But once he had heard about her being committed to the ward, he knew that she was there, that she was still alive. But he had never allowed it to cross his mind that they could simply continue from where they had left off in their past lives. His only motive was in getting her out of captivity; to just give her a chance to have a life in this cursed world that he had created. He knew that anything more would only give Regina more incentive to hurt her.
He grimaced, clenching his jaw but unable to stop the question from being asked. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because I see how she looks at you. Trust me that is not a girl who has been torn apart by a monster, that is a woman scorned. There is no chance she would still be this angry unless she had some unresolved feelings about what happened between the two of you."
...
Mr. Gold tried to not dwell too much on what Miss Swan had said, in fact, he tried not to think too much about anything. He tried to avoid his new house guests as much as possible, and for whatever reason, Regina had not shown up to confront them. He instead focused on his work. Whenever he did by chance run into Rose, he avoided her eyes, turned away. Several times he had seen her watch television, apparently discovering that he had more channels to offer than Miss Blanchard. He noticed books missing within his personal library, primarily his aquired collection of Grimm Fairy Tales. She even bothered to clean his home a bit, but the action only seemed to bring back bitter memories. At least, that was what he thought, until he found a load of his laundry laid out. White button-up dress shirts, now dyed pink. At that point, he couldn't help himself, he had smiled at her small effor to irritate him.
There were a few things that still puzzled him however, her obvious animosity towards him only being one of them. He awoke one night, an earie light coming from down stairs. Frowning, he wondered what she could possibly be watching so late at night. From what Emma had told him, she had had trouble sleeping.
"Good to see that she still likes to clean up." Emma mentioned one morning as she sipped coffee. Mr. Gold sat down with a cup of his own at the center island of his kitchen as he gave Emma a pointed look.
"Yes, she has always been prone to doing that." He took a sip of his coffee and had to force himself to choke it down. He had always been used to having coffe black, but the drink in his hand had more creamer and sugar than he could possibly stomach.
He looked at the cup in disgust, "This tastes terrible."
Emma frowned, "Mine tastes fine."
There was movement behind them and they both turned to see Rose carrying a towell and a set of clothes, looking as innocent as ever.
He turned back to see Emma smiling into her cup. He felt his anger churn, he hated being laughed at. Hated how he had only accepted such treatment from Belle, and was still tolerating it from her when he never did from anyone else.
"I suppose you're enjoying this?" He said coldly.
"I'll admit it is a bit entertaining." Emma said honestly.
He grabbed his cane, giving her a level look that caused her smile to falter, "Don't for one minute think that you understand me Miss Swan. You know nothing. As far as her recovery I congratulate and thank you, but as far as our personal lives, stay out of it. I did not ask for your service in an attempt to play matchmaker between us."
Emma looked at him, her jaw set with determination, "Despite what you think, love is not a weakness."
He ground his teeth. "That's simply a matter of opinion my dear. After all, if it hadn't been for love of your boy, you wouldn't have made such drastic decissions that nearly cost you your job."
He had struck a nerve, he could tell by the sudden tension that set in her shoulders, "Is that what this is about to you, losing power and status?"
Damn, she had struck too close, "As I have shown you first hand, if you want to win, you have to know how to get away with breaking the rules."
"Matter of opinion," Emma said to him, turning his words back at him. "Sounds to me like your just letting Regina win becuase you don't want her to have another way of hurting you. That's not winning Mr. Gold, that's giving up before you even have a chance to start."
He smirked, "How very poetic of you, now if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to."
He exited the kitchen, but not before he heard the scurrying of footsteps retreating and heading up the stairs.
...
Emma had to go to the station for a while to work on some paperwork. Mr. Gold had mostly locked himself away in his office, avoiding the other guest within his home. He was very eager to have them both gone. But for now, he could here Rose moving about the house. After debating a moment, he went to the kitchen, not seeing any reason why he should refrain from moving about his home as he pleased just because she was there. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, he filled it with water from the sink. Taking a drink, he once again found himself puzzling over Rose's behavior towards him. Was the reason behind her clear dislike for him have something to do with the past Regina had woven for them in this life, or did it maybe have something to do with their former lives?
He was still mulling over the possibilities when Rose walked into the kitchen. She hesitated, but then she tilted up her chin and proceeded with what she was doing. He pretended not to notice her as she carried a batch of flowers to the row of dark wood cupboards. She had always had a fancy for flowers and floral designs, he reflected on how she had loved decorating his castle with them. Did she perhaps remember portions of her former life that carried into this one, such as her tendency to read and clean? No, he would not fool himself, there were others within Storybrook who still had the traits they had had when they were within their former lives, it never meant they remembered anything. That was a particularity of the spell. It always affected those except the one who cast it... and the one who had created it. That had been a lovely technicality that he had never bothered sharing with the Queen.
Rose opened one of the cupboards, shifting around the contents in search for a vase. She closed one cupboard and opened another, and froze. Gold frowned when he suddenly felt his stomach churn in dread. He knew what was in that cupboard, and he knew that was what her eyes were fastened on. The flowers fell from her limp hand, making soft scraping sounds against the edge of the counter and floor.
He stared at her, not breathing as he sat down the glass he had been holding. Her eyes were fixed firmly on the cup, but she stepped away from it, breathing raggedly. She suddenly reached for it, holding it, turning it within her hands and tracing the chip on the edge of the rim. A look of torment, loss, confusion, agony, all stealing over her features at once. Seeming to suddenly sense him, she turned to look over to him, her eyes revealing everything she so desperately wanted to hide. When the stillness between them broke, she tried to beat a hasty retreat from the kitchen, placing the cup on the counter so quickly that it teetered and rolled precariously on the surface. But he caught up to her, grabbing her arm and forcing her to look at him. Tears brimmed in her eyes, but he was too angry to let them have any affect on him.
The hit was unexpected. He felt the sting and sudden burn on his face from the slap she had given him. When he looked up at her steadily, her eyes shined a dark blue from her unshed tears, looking more hurt and confused then he had ever remembered seeing her.
"You remember everything, don't you?" He accused her, his voice laced with anger, ignoring the tingling burn that was settling on the side of his face.
She look panicked, terrified and livid as she tried to twist out of his grasp, but he only tightened his grip. She thought about the chipped cup in the cupboard and her escape turned into another offense, she struck at him with curled fists, trying to hit him, hurt him. The blows seemed to not affect him as he grabbed her wrists. She felt tears sting her eyes and burn down her cheeks. Her mouth opened as though to scream, but her throat tightened and burned, forcing the sound to never have a chance to escape.
"Stop it!" He snapped in irritation.
Why did you keep it? She wanted to scream, she had never wanted to talk more than in that moment, she was so confused, lost. Her throat burned, constricting and keeping the words locked inside of her. Why did you keep it?
"Why won't you speak?" He spat, giving her a shake, "Answer me!"
She looked up at him, and he could see the vulnerability there. The lost look as she searched his face for something; what he was not sure. There breathing suddenly stilled, as though in that moment they both realized how close they stood, how he held her with their faces mere inches apart.
"Hey!"
Both Mr. Gold and Rose turned to see Emma standing by the front door with a bag of groceries.
"What's going on here?" She asked, giving Rose the opportunity to yank her arms free from his hold and hurry to her room.
...
When Emma found out that Mr. Gold hadn't harmed Rose in any way, she had let the matter drop, but not until after she had seen the chipped cup lying on its side atop the counter. After that, her eyes took on a look of understanding, a look that was more perceptive than Mr. Gold would have liked. That night, he couldn't sleep. Emma and Rose would be leaving tomorrow. The thought was just as much of a relief as it was a torment. Questions seemed to form and sizzle out within his mind. Somehow, Rose remembered something of their past lives. He had no idea how much she remembered, or even if she had simply seen something from her past when she had seen the chipped cup. No, he immediately scratched the idea. Even though she couldn't speak, her face had given her emotions away completely. He thought of her face; her beautiful face twisted in agony as though he had ripped out her heart. He flinched away from the memory. He had never seen her cry before, not even when he had cast her from his home. With a sigh of frustration, he threw off the sheets and got out of bed, his feet hitting the cold floor as he deftly reached for his cane. Wearing his black silk pajamas, he threw on a black robe and made his way down to the kitchen. He stopped, noticing the light coming from the television in the other room.
But that wasn't what had made his heart stop momentarily. Faintly, he could hear her, laughing softly at something that was on the television. The volume was set on low, barely audible from the kitchen. As though his limbs were being pulled by invisible strings, he went forward.
He walked in to see her with a bowl of popcorn in her lap, feet curled beneath her on the couch. She wore a pair of plaid pajamas, the fabric seeming too big for her frame. He looked at the screen, an old black and white picture was playing with heavy slapstick comedy. He hesitated, intending to turn around and leave, but she had sensed him there. She turned her head, the smile that had been on her lips instantly dropping. Instead, she scowled at him and turned back to the screen. Even now she irritated him. Denying him any explanation for her behavior or even a glimpse of her being happy.
He went to the couch, sitting on the opposite end as he swiped up the controller; changing the feed to a sales channel that advertised an assortment of antiques. The controller was plucked from his grasp as she turned it back to what she had been originally watching. Like a pair of children, he grabbed it back from her, switching it to what he intended to watch.
"My house." He told her as she glared bloody murder at him, "My rules."
She sat there for a minute, stewing as she ground popcorn between her teeth. A ghost of a smile passed over his lips. He had to admit that he preferred her anger immensely to her tears. Something flew mere inches in front of his face; watching it miss him, he realized that it was a few kernels of popcorn. Too late in realizing the distraction, she ripped the controller out of his grasp and randomly pressed a button before tossing the controller over the backside of the couch. The controller clunked against the floor and skidded to the far side of the room. He could only stare at her, feelings of frustration and amusement warring with each other inside him.
"Oh, that was incredibly mature." He said sarcastically.
She stuck her tongue out at him before returning her gaze to the television. She gasped, her hand pressing to her heart as a dreamy smile graced her lips. He turned to see what she had turned to, and groaned in agony.
"What is it with women and this film?" Mr. Gold muttered. Over 600 channels to randomly choose, and she happened to catch the one playing Sleepless in Seattle.
"Shh!" She told him, causing him to look over to her. She hadn't spoken, but it was the closest thing to words she had uttered since she had left the ward. She was staring at the screen languorously, a small smile pulling at her lips as Meg Ryan listened to the radio while Tom Hanks told the radio host about how much his wife had meant to him, how empty everything had become once she had died. How it had felt the first time he had touched her.
It was like magic.
Unconsciously, Mr. Gold thought about the first time he had held Belle in his arms, catching her as she pulled the drapes from the windows. The moment he had touched her, he knew. Something had shot through his system wherever he had touched her. It had felt like magic, but not the kind he was used to manipulating. This had been a different magic, warm like liquid fire, heating him from his usual feeling of icy numbness and indifference. Even then he had known, he had been powerless to stop whatever it was that had passed between them. Viciously, he tore his thoughts away from the memory. None of it mattered now, nothing had really changed. Allowing anything to continue between them in this world was pure folly, even if it was like being handed a second chance. He would never give Regina the satisfaction of having that advantage over him, never again.
That's not winning Mr. Gold, that's giving up before you even have a chance to start.
He shook his head, banishing the nuisance of a thought, Damn coward, he thought to himself, It's the only lifestlye I know.
...
Rose had eventually fallen asleep on the couch. Mr. Gold had sat through the whole film with her, despite their being a few akward moments pertaining to love and the like. Gold had become disconcerted when film came to the part where the father had woken up to find his son gone, disapeared; finding out that his boy had taken a flight to New York. It reminded him too much of his own son; one day he was there, the next, he was gone. He hadn't even had the comfort to know where he had gone to. The future of his son had been just as unreadable as when he had heard that Belle had taken her own life.
He had looked over to her to find her looking at him, sadness and compassion creasing her brow. He didn't need to use of magic to understand what she was thinking. She was trying so hard to be angry, but there was still a part of her that wanted to comfort him. He could tell, see it in her eyes and in her face. How was it possible? That after all he had done, everything he was responsible for but didn't want to be, that she could possibly still look at him like that? Unable to offer him anything else, she offered him some popcorn, dispelling the strange moment.
It was a strange thing, he had felt content with just simply sitting there with her. Despite her obvious dislike for him, and his obvious distrust of her, they had sat there for several hourse, simply sharing time and space. A couple feet from each other, seperated from so many things being unsaid. Both sharing a lifetime of memories and yet knowing that they could do nothing to change the sitatuion. When the movie had ended and she had fallen asleep, he had sat longer than he should, watching her as she slept like he was some type of lovesick fool. The popcorn bowl lay empty on the floor, her hands curled beneath her chin, her head nestled on the arm of the couch. Her mouth was slightly parted as she breathed evenly. He had picked up the afghan draped over the back of the couch; leaning heavily on his good leg, he had stood and draped the cloth over her.
His hand lingered on the curve of her should for a moment, the warmth of her already seeping through the fabric and into his fingers. He wondered what she dreamed of that made her look so at peace. It was as though he could simply lean down and brush his lips to hers, awaking her like in a fairy tale. But he knew better; he was no hero. He hated how she had been right, how her last words to him had haunted him, even in this life. He should have known what would have happened. He had cursed them both by his decissions. Everything came with a price, even the rejection of True Loves Kiss. He straightend away from her, the rememberence of the kiss snapping him out of reverie. He couldn't think about it, wouldn't think abou it. He grabbed his cane and left to return to bed, noticing how the smallest hint of light was beginning to show itself over the horiozen and paint colors through the stained glass. The next morning, both Emma and Rose had left; moving back in with Mary.
The days following their stay, he would always see Rose with either Emma or Mary, eating out, going to see a movie. They mostly took her to the library, spending hours at a time looking at all of the books. Seeing her was like a torture, but he knew it was necessary. He and Regina had reached a stalemeate, not knowing what the move of the other would be now that Rose was beginning to socalize again, becoming a part of the society. They were both biding their time, waiting.
...
Rose and Mary were looking in a window of a little china shop. Rose simply loved the delicate tea cups, designs of floral and color bursting on the small pieces of ceramic. She loved the Royal Albert Country Rose Chintz and the Russian tea cups with designs like Anastasia and Victorian Pattern. Rose breathed in, loving how the cold stung her nose; loving the smell of moisture on the cement. The light breeze tugged at her white cotton peasant skirt, her beige boots and maroon peacoat warding off the chill. Though the cups were exquisite, she couldn't help but think of the little chipped cup nestled in the cupboard at Mr. Gold's house. As quickly as the thought entered her mind, she dashed it away. She didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to think about anything but the life she had now. It might not be the life she had made for herself, but it was her own. She had originally resented it. But that was before. Before, she had only seen the inside of a pale stoned cell. Had only experienced the isolation of being alone, being forced to eat, being forced to take medication that made her mind lethargic. Before, she had not been allowed to see the possibilities. Everything had changed now. The nightmares she used to have, blurring between reality and memories forced onto her consciousness, were gone. She hadn't had a bad dream ever since the last night she had spent in his home.
She had the possibility of a new life, a new beginning. Even with the thought of that, she couldn't help but sigh. She wished that she could regain her speech. It had been so long since she had last spoken. Ever since she got here and awoken within her new prison, her voice had been gone. No matter how hard she tried, it was like some kind of barrier was preventing her from forming words. She shook her said, saddened. It was all a part to be played. She had been given this character with no lines, and there was nothing she could do to change that.
Rose looked down the street as Mary admired a cup with a design of blue Cobalt Lace. Rose felt her heart stop and then thud against her ribs. He was walking down the street, leaning heavily on his cane for support as he came to an intersection. Rose felt her feet moving, her stomach roiling in dread. No one seemed to notice the car, something about it was off, it was swerving slightly, ever so slightly, moving strangely as though the driver didn't quite have control over it. No one noticed, only a few people looked at it curiously.
Gold. The word formed on her lips, but no sound escaped. She heard Mary behind her, calling her. Not knowing why she was running.
"Gold." The word cracked, barely a whisper. She felt her throat tighten and begin to burn, as though someone were trying to choke her. He paid her no heed; he hadn't heard her. A couple people seemed to notice the truck. Why wasn't it slowing down? It seemed to be moving faster. She was so close, nearly to the edge of the side walk and turning onto the street, how fast was the car moving? How could he not see it coming towards him? He wasn't paying attention. Her heart thundered, blood roaring in her ears.
"Rumpelstiltskin!" She screamed, part of her words drowned out as the car viciously honked it's horn. He wouldn't be fast enough, not with his bad leg, the car was too close.
He turned, looking at her in bewilderment as she barreled into him. Pushing him out of the way. She felt the air get knocked out of her lungs as they both landed on the cement. Her body shook, adrenaline and the sprint down the street making her feel lightheaded. He was beneath her, warm, alive, his heart was beating beneath her fist. She leaned up, seeing people gather. The car had stopped suddenly, swerving and coming to a jerky halt. She felt Rumpelstiltskin move beside her, but her brain was feeling blurry around the edges. Heart still pounding from the exertion, she felt herself drift into unconsciousness.
...
The next couple days passed by in a haze, her mind focusing in and out. She was in a hospital and she had felt dread creep through her veins. Images of her prison, the one with dark stone and the other with pale walls piercing her groggy brain.
"She's not well."
"She saved his life, who cares what she called him."
"I didn't hear what she said."
"The driver was having a stroke... no control over the truck."
"We'll see what happens when she wakes up."
There were so many voices. Emma? Mary? Regina? Where was he, was he alright? She drifted again, her mind turning dark.
...
She started to regain consciousness again, she opened her eyes. At first she saw a dark figure standing over her. Blurry around the edges. She blinked, the image coming into focus. Suddenly, everything was in sharp focus, the veil that had been over her seemed to lift. He was standing there, leaning against the glass wall. Dressed in dark colors, a dark purple dress shirt under his jacket, cane held in front of him. He stared at her, neither of them saying anything.
Rose turned onto her side, facing away from him. Tears unexpectedly filling her eyes and her heart twisting in her chest. Her throat burned, but not as it had before, it now ached to say the words she had to say. Words that needed to be between them.
"You gave her the spell that put us here."
Rumpelstiltskin felt like he had taken a kick to the gut, of all the things she could have said, he had not been expecting this.
"What?"
"I was cleaning your castle one day, and I came across a manuscript." He could hear the tears she was trying to hold back. "I read it."
"When I woke up in this town, I knew. I knew what had happened. But I shouldn't have. I remembered everything but the life I was to have here." Even now she remembered the tower, the days upon days of being locked away. Only to wake up in another prison; one with pale painted walls and steel doors.
She raised her arms and looked at the scars on her wrists, "I woke up with these. I had no idea what I was supposed to do, it was like being placed into a dream where your supposed to act a certain way, but I had no idea what part I had to play or what my lines were." She closed her eyes, "They kept telling me I had tried to commit suicide, saying how I was a danger to society and would be better protected in solitary confinement."
"Why didn't you say something?" He asked her, not being able to help how angry his voice sounded. As though it were her fault for suffering in this life.
"I couldn't." She said, but then she admitted, "There would have been no point to even trying, nothing has changed. Mostly everyone here is just as miserable as they were back home."
He hated seeing her like this. There was no passion inside of her, none of that fire he knew she possessed. He didn't know who to blame, who he blamed more for this change in her. His anger boiled at the injustice, at the foul mess that he found himself in. "Perhaps then, you and I have more in common than I had originally thought." He said darkly.
"I am nothing like you," She whispered fiercely, "I never blamed my father for what happened to me. He might have shut me out, but no one has ever hurt me as much as you have." She knew what he had done, how he had kidnapped the man who was her father. Emma had talked to Mary about it one night when they had thought she was asleep, but Rose had listened, she had always been listening.
He felt it, like a knife twisting in his heart. He couldn't breath, couldn't form words.
"I was so foolish," She whispered, thinking of their kiss they had shared in their past lives. "I was so blinded and foolish to think that it would be that easy for you to change. Turns out that nothing has. Now, instead of being a monster with an empty heart, your just a man with a horrible one."
"Belle..."
He saw her flinch away from him, away from the name he called her. "Just leave."
He couldn't get out of there fast enough, he couldn't stand it. He hadn't wanted to feel this way ever again. He passed by Regina, something on his face must have given him away.
When she had first heard the news that Rose had spoken, she had been livid. But now, she smiled, her slow smirk of a smile like the cat who had just lapped up all of the cream.
"Mr. Gold. Leaving so soon?"
He schooled his features back into his usual coolness, he would never had gotten as far as he had without a good poker face.
"I hardly see any reason for me to stay."