Attention: What follows is a lengthy author's note, but considering I'm assuming you're not under a spell nor curse forcing you to read the note. You have your freewill to scroll down and skip straight to the chapter. Even though the A/N includes information that should clarify some questions readers have about the plot, the choice is yours. This chapter is over 4500 words, approximately 6 times longer than the author's notes, including this pre-note, just in case anybody wants to again make false claims to the contrary.


Author's Note: Regarding Isabelle "Belle" de Ravin, there is a concept that pieces of a soul can reside in more than one body. Meaning the theory is that there is the you that is reading this, but another part of your soul might be within a person anywhere else in the world, because souls are meant to learn different things, be it in this life time or others. I'm using that concept, but taking some creative license with it. Based on that concept, if there's another person in this life time with whom you share a soul, the other person doesn't necessarily look like you... actually, the other person probably won't look like you and could be a different gender even. However, for the purposes of this story, SB Belle and Isabelle/Belle both look like Belle... Storybrooke Belle and Isabelle "Belle" de Ravin at the hostel, share the same soul, but have had different life experiences and thus have learned different things... but on occasion there is some bleed through from the other person, which is why Isabelle/Belle had the dream the night of the banishment and why she called the man she knows as Carlyle "Rumple" when they touched before he got into the car. About Rumple/Carlyle being in 1984, the short answer is it's a "wibbly wobbly timey wimey" thing... Yes, there's some Doctor Whoisms in this fic. However, the longer answer is, without spoiling too much, in chapter 2 there is a hint when it says, "He recalls the strange sensations he felt after he began to walk away from the town line and wonders if the Snow Queen's curse fractured or altered time in some way." Yes, the Shattered Sight curse is part of what happened, but there's something else combined with the curse that made the shattering of time happen and that will be revealed later in the story. Storybrooke Belle needs to figure that part out, but first, she needs to let go of her stubborn pride, so Hallucination Rumple will be pestering her and tormenting her trying to get her to look for a solution to what she caused by banishing Rumple. 1983 was the start of Dark Curse on OUAT, but I chose 1984 because of a pic of Lana Parrilla in Storybrooke jail dressed as the Evil Queen from the Enchanted Forest, and at the bottom of the pic was printed "Oct 84". Since my goal for this fic is happy ending, this is a second chance for Rumple on a number of levels, as well as SB Belle, but Storybrooke Belle will have to work the hardest for her second chance, because as Hallucination Rumple warned her when she chose to not go to Rumple who was calling for her at the town line, she chose a much more difficult path to make things right. Also, if you're getting attached to Isabelle "Belle" de Ravin, who is actually Belle also, she gets her happy ending too. It's all interconnected.

Thank you very much to Pamela Anneliese, Snapegirlkmf and my darling husband, who regularly take time out of their busy schedules to beta/proofread for me.


After driving for several minutes, Rumple asks, "Where are we going?" He doesn't want to seem ungrateful, yet he's uncomfortable being at the whim of a stranger... A stranger who looks remarkably like his wife who betrayed him last night.

"I live at a hostel about an hour away."

Belle refrains from calling it a youth hostel, because well, they take in all ages, despite the formal term for it, and she doesn't want him to feel embarrassed, thinking he won't be welcome. She continues, "I think I can get some things sorted out for you there." She debates taking him to a store to get some necessaries, but she doesn't want to expose him to the cold any more than need be. After about forty-five minutes of driving, she pulls into one of the branches of her bank... The only one around with an Automated Teller Machine from which to make a withdrawal. As she exits her car, she yelps from the cold and dashes to the ATM, glad that she decided to get a bank card a month ago. Between the brutal cold and being fairly new at using the machine, her fingers fumble with the keypad, as she endeavors to wipe out a substantial part of her savings, leaving just a bit more than her next month's rent in her account. As her teeth chatter, she tells herself with resignation, "This coat isn't so bad. I'll have a new one next winter for sure. Maybe I can pick up some extra work and get one in February... March at the latest." Her work at a local franchise of a chain electrics stores has always been a point of contention. When she first applied for the job five years ago, the manager looked at her as though she were insane. "What do women know about electronics?" he asked. Never being one to be left uninformed on a subject when she needed it, she had studied the subject as well as their products, and he begrudgingly gave her a job. However, though she is the best sales person in the store, she has never reached full-time status as the manager reasoned that the men in his employment had families to support and she didn't, adding that she should find a strapping young man to take care of her. Yes, things were better than the generation of women before her, but there were still plenty of men who were complete idiots! She never wanted to marry for security. She always promised herself that if she did marry, which is looking less and less likely now, that it would be for love, and she would contribute financially to the household. She takes the money and the printed receipt from the ATM, deposits both into her wallet, and puts the wallet into her purse. She then runs back to the car and yanks open the door harshly as she is anxious to get back inside.

"Everything go alright?" Rumple asks with a tone of concern.

"Y..yyyes, fffine", she stammers out as she shivers. She looks at the temperature gauge and exclaims, "Oh, crap! Really, now you need a drink?!"

"I'm sorry, what?"

She sighs and turns off the ignition, "No problem. The Beast just needs a drink and a rest." He looks at her perplexed and she adds, "The radiator is starting to overheat." Rumple reaches to unbuckle his seat-belt, and Belle touches his arm, saying with determination. "No. I appreciate the thought of chivalry, but I'll handle it. I'm used to it."

"Belle, I can..."

"No, just stay here. I don't want you hurting your hands. It'll only take a minute."

Before he can protest further, she grabs a jug of water from the back seat, exits, opens the hood and then the radiator cap. She unscrews the cap of the jug and begins to pour. Once she is done, she closes the jug, radiator and hood and quickly jumps back into the car, needing to give the door an extra strong pull to close as the wind has caught the door. "Now we just wait" she declares.

Rumple nods and thinks about how he wishes he were still a man of means at this moment. He'd love to give her a car that's more reliable. He can tell she doesn't have much and his guts twist at the thought that he's taking from what little she has.

After several minutes, he is pulled from his thoughts by the sound of her turning on the sluggish ignition, as she talks to the car and pets the dashboard. "Come on baby, you can do it. Be a good boy and mama will buy you some STP." As if on cue, the 'Beast' as she calls the vehicle roars to life. "That's my boy!" she praises the car, and then smiles smugly at Rumple saying, "You had your doubts that I'd get him started." He shrugs, since he honestly doesn't know how to respond. Thus she continues, "Just give him a little love, a drink, gas and the occasional bottle of STP for a treat – and he'll get you where you want to go. He's like a person... Make sure he's loved, his needs are met, and it all works out."

"That's not how it always works... With people, I mean."

"I know, but don't rain on my parade. I got him started, and we're close to home."

He refrains from saying he has no home, deciding to let himself pretend for a little while that her home is his as well.


Their arrival at the hostel presents another challenge as they gaze uneasily at the stairs. Belle makes a hissing sound, "Ow! Carlyle, I must've twisted my ankle. I don't think I can get up those stairs by myself." Rumplestiltskin watches her proceed to move around to his right side, and say, "Can I lean on you to get up the stairs?" her blue eyes looking a little too innocent.

Keenly aware that she is attempting to spare his feelings over his own injury and appreciating the rather artless attempt, "Of course, I'll lend my body to assist a damsel in distress." They put their arms around each other, as he leans against her petite form. He hisses at the contact as the old unhealed wounds and new wounds created by multiple falls during the night, cut through him with sharp, almost electric pain. Eventually, they succeed in ascending two flights of stairs to the top floor where the permanent residents inhabit. Thankfully, they manage to do so without running into a single person along the way as it's mid-day, and everyone is out at the moment.

Standing in her small room, he notes the cot with a thin mattress, some tie-dyed gauzy fabric draped from the ceiling in an attempt to personalize the space, and various stacks of books arranged by genre: literature, history, spirituality, self-help/psychology/sociology, and so on. They momentarily eye each other like two people being set up on a poorly thought out blind date.

Taking the bull by the horns, Belle decides to press forward. "We need to get you cleaned up, and your clothes cleaned and repaired."

Before he can mount a counter argument, she grabs a warm robe from her drawer, a bag, and a basket of bathing supplies and says, "Follow me."

After the night he's had, he doesn't much like being ordered around... especially by petite blue-eyed brunettes who think they know best. However, without a better option, he follows her down the hall. "Here's the shower. Go in and take off your clothes" she says, trying to keep a matter-of-fact tone as she feels herself blush, "...Then put them in the bag and hand them out to me." She notices a questioning look as he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, and she confirms with a sigh, "Yes, all your clothes. The washable items, like your under-things can go in a wash load with my stuff, and I'll see what I can figure out about dry-cleaning and repairing that suit to make it presentable." She sees the pain on his face as he holds the items. She feels as though she should help him further, but doesn't want to risk either one of them dying of embarrassment.

"Just do a quick wash off and don't have the water too hot."

"Don't worry, I won't over use the utilities."

"No, it's not that. Your hands are frostbitten and need tending still. Too long under too hot of water might do more damage. Oh... And sorry the shampoo and conditioner are kind of 'girlie', it's all I have right now."

Looking at her tenderly, he reassures, "This'll do fine, darling."

After Rumplestiltskin reopens the bathroom door just enough to reach out handing her the bag of clothes, she hears him turn on the water, noting the sound of him hissing in pain as the water first contacts his damaged skin. She hurriedly goes to her room and puts his expensive looking cufflinks on her night stand reminding herself to pull out some jewelry cleaner later. Then, she sorts the clothes, noting the sizes, and takes the washable items to the washing machine along with her own clothes of similar colors, before retrieving a first aid kit. She is thankful that there is no one here to see or question her activities, but she is anxious for Duncan to return, as she would like to enlist his help. Belle reminds herself that she will need to talk to the hostel manager when she returns. Belle feels like she is running on pure adrenalin as she waits by the bathroom door for Carlyle to emerge. She feels her heart flutter as he appears in the doorway with his wet hair obscuring his eyes a bit, as she can't figure out how much of the redness in his face is from prolonged exposure to the elements last night, and how much is embarrassment from wearing her fluffy blue robe with multi-colored hearts on it, trimmed in white eyelet lace. She ushers him as quickly as feasible to her room, noting the pain he is displaying as his bare, extremely blistered feet walk across the cold hardwood floor. She makes a mental note that he needs slippers and a pair of comfortable walking shoes for when dress attire is not required. She can't imagine how he walked all those hours in dress shoes... and with a bad limp to top it off.

As they return to her room, Rumple says, "I appreciate your hospitality, but I think you should give me back my clothes, and I'll be going."

"No, I can't do that. First off, some of your clothes are in the washer, but more importantly, there's a major blizzard coming tonight, and you won't survive it. I won't have your blood on my hands."

Bitterly, he says, "You're quite the hero, aren't you?"

"If that is some sort of dig, you misjudge me. I have no use for 'heroes' in the context you seem to be putting me in. I don't do things for show or to be popular... I'm doing what needs to be done. I don't give a tiny rat's ass if you or anybody else likes it or finds it heroic. Heroics for show is like stale, dried out, month old wedding cake, it may still look good, but it tastes like crap! I gave up trying to be part of the 'in crowd' when I was in grade school... I know my own self-worth, as well as the value of others, and I don't need someone else to validate me."

Rumplestiltskin is momentarily dumbstruck as the woman he observes reminds him of the strong, determined Belle he thought he knew all those years ago. His heartbeat surges, recognizing he is in the presence of someone with true strength and caring, who wants to help him. No matter how much he feels unworthy, no matter how much he doesn't want to trust this Belle because the Belle he's known before has proven herself untrustworthy, he can't help being persuaded by her genuine concern for his well-being.

Thinking about her response to his dig, he says with admiration, "You're quite the spitfire, aren't you?" A bit of a devilish grin forms on her face as she nods, and he continues, "I'm sorry for making assumptions about you that I had no right making. I suppose I don't have any better options at the moment."

"I accept your apology, and no, you don't. Someone doesn't have to be a rocket scientist to see you've hit a rough patch." He chuckles bitterly at her understatement, and she presses forward, "...And the weather is unforgiving right now. You clearly need time to regroup, and you have wounds that need tended before you end up with a raging infection, so please let me help as best I can."

"I would appreciate that very much. What do we do first?"

"Please sit on the bed. There's some places on your face and neck that look like they could use some TLC, but your hands and feet need major attention. After I'm done, I'm going to want you to stay in bed for a few hours, preferably sleep, because I think you could use it, but that choice is yours. Sleep or no, I don't want you moving around for few hours... Your body needs a rest, and it gives me some time to get you longer-term accommodations."

"Longer-term?"

"Yeah. There's a room next door that's available, and I just need a little time to put things in order with the manager, so you can stay there for the next month while you figure out what you want to do with your life...You know, where you want to go?... Or uh, if you want to stay here longer?"

"I really haven't given it much thought. I'm not sure what to do."

"I figured as much. Maybe I can put you in contact with people who can help you in other ways," she refrains from being specific, but she senses that he needs help on a number of levels.

"I don't know how to repay your kindness, but I will."

"Just take care of yourself and get better. Now, let's get to your injuries."

"Yes, Dr. de Ravin," he says with a bit of forced playfulness.

Putting her hands on her hips, "Okay, and if you're a good boy, I'll get you a lollipop." She chuckles softly, and then adds, "Blue cotton candy flavored is the best."

"I'll hold you to that."

They stare at each other a moment with the mood becoming somber. "Are you ready?" she asks, and he nods, though she can see uncertainty in his eyes.

"Uh, I need to take off your rings... Both of them," and she sees a sorrowful, uneasy look in his expression. "Your fingers will probably swell more before things start to heal, and we don't want the rings blocking your circulation to the point that the rings need cut off. It'll only be temporary, while your hands have some time to heal." In response, he swallows hard, his jaw clenches, and he nods permitting her to continue.

As his fingers are already a bit swollen, and she doesn't want to add to his pain by trying to force the rings off without lubrication, she retrieves a jar of Vaseline. She applies the Vaseline to the fingers with the rings. First, she removes the blue-stoned ring putting it on her nightstand. Looking into each others eyes, both of he and Belle are on the edge of tears. She looks down at his wedding band and carefully, reverently, removes it. She notices him shudder at the absence of the ring that symbolized his marriage. Before going any further, she quickly, yet diligently cleans the Vaseline from his rings and unlatches the clasp of her necklace from around her neck. She slides the heart pendant off her sturdy chain, placing the pendant on her nightstand and threads his rings onto her chain.

"Here. This should help," Belle says as Rumple looks at her and the chain from which his rings dangle, and he understands and appreciates of her plan. He leans in towards her, well aware that his own hands could not possibly close the clasp of the necklace in their current condition. She reaches up and around his neck, as his soft damp hair grazes her hands, and then she secures the chain around his neck. His rings and her chain seem to tingle against the skin of his neck and chest, which he attributes to the difference in temperature between the metal and his skin.

"Thank you," he says softly, and it's her turn to nod as the lump in her throat won't let her speak.

She sets about cleaning the Vaseline from his fingers and then tenderly, cautiously tends to his cuts, bruises, blisters and frostbite on his face, neck, hands and feet. He winces as she uses the antiseptic, and she bites her bottom lip hard in reaction to his obvious pain that he is determined to hide. She loosely applies onto the open wounds gauze bandages after applying antibiotic ointment. Upon finishing, she gently guides him to lie down on the bed. He keeps to himself that he has some open wounds on his torso, hoping the shower was enough to cleanse them and stave off infection. "She doesn't need to see what I look like now. No one does," he rationalizes and attempts to get comfortable.

Belle tucks her blanket around him and says, "I'm going to have to go in and out a bit making arrangements for you, but I'm locking the door behind me, to make certain that nobody walks in on you." She notices his eye widen. "Normally, nobody comes in without knocking, but I want to be sure... But you can get out if you need to as the lock turns from the inside. However, you need your rest, so please stay in bed regardless."

He's uneasy with this situation, but appreciates her efforts. "Thank you, Isabelle."

"You're welcome, Carlyle... And remember you can call me, Belle, especially since it's what you first called me." Then a question comes to mind, "Do you have a nickname? Perhaps, Cyle or Lyle?"

"Um... Lyle is fine with me."

"Good, because if I always say Carlyle, I'll keep thinking of Belinda Carlisle, then I'll forever have "Head Over Heels" by The Go-Gos playing in my head."

He looks at her befuddled, and she says in response, "Uh, sorry. My mind can be kind of stream of consciousness sometimes."

"No matter, Belle. An active mind is a good thing," and she blushes as it's nice that he doesn't see her as crazy or ditzy.

"Well, get some rest. I'll be back in a while. If you're asleep, I'll keep it quiet going in and out," and she leaves, locking the door behind her.

There is a knot in his stomach at the sound of the latching of the lock, though he knows he can open the door if he wants. Not wanting to sleep, as he doesn't want to risk nightmares, he stares at the tie-dyed gauzy fabric draped from the ceiling. His mind drifts thinking about how far off the rails his life has gone since he regained his so called freedom from Zelena. Though he's angry and greatly hurt by his Belle's indifference after his return from his hellish life in captivity, he can't ignore his own mistakes either. Though he needed to be free of the control of the dagger, once and for all, even he isn't quite sure why he had done some of the things he had done in the weeks since his captivity. It was as though some hack writer from a third rate soap opera was writing his life, turning him into a one-dimensional cartoon villain. If that were the case, he'd want the writer or writers turned into snails. Or maybe, it was just him, he sighs and thinks, it could be he was just no good from the moment he was born, again remembering his father's words, and then he looks sorrowfully at the wedding ring upon this Belle's, Isabelle's, chain.


Belle runs down to the laundry room and moves the clothes from the washing machine to the drier. Hearing Marie, the hostel manager, enter the lobby above her, Belle ascends the stairs. She sees the woman, sitting at the reception desk, who is in her mid-fifties and has short salt and pepper hair.

"Belle, you must've been up with the morning birds. I didn't see your car when I got up," Marie says brightly.

"Yeah, well, I had to go help my friend, Lyle, you know, the one I told you about from Scotland." Belle lies, knowing that Marie's memory of things has always been scattered, and she refuses to admit it.

"Oh, yes, you've told me about him many times. How is he?"

"He got himself banged up in a gnarly accident when his ride hit some black ice and skidded into a guard rail. When he opened the door to get out, his cane and his bag with all his identification slipped over the other side of the guardrail and into the ravine." Marie gasps as Belle continues, "I told him the other day about the room for rent, and he came up this way to look for some work."

"Work around here? There's not much."

"I know some people I can ask who may be hiring." Belle tries to keep the story as truthful as possible, yet not divulge too much. "He just got out of a bad marriage" she says rationalizing that he will be wearing his wedding ring eventually, and people will notice. She adds, "And he needs a change of scenery... But don't ask him about it, he still wears his ring and is pretty broken up about it."

"Poor man."

Not wanting to belabor her tale, Belle asks, "Anyway, do we still have those canes in the basement from when we put on that pageant for the kids?"

"Yes. Which one do you want?"

"The mahogany one with the decorative vine carvings."

"That one's quite dapper... Is he?" Marie responds, and Belle smiles at the old-time term of dapper that seems to fit him, even in his battered state.

"He is, when he's wearing a suit... And sort of is even when he's not dressed to the nines."

"I can't wait to see... I mean, I look forward to meeting him."

"You'll meet him later... but he won't be wearing a suit. His suit needs to go to the cleaners. I'll bring the money for his room in a little while. He needs my help getting the money out of his wallet... His hands got frostbit."

"Oh no. It sounds like when it rains it pours for this man. Bring the money when you have a chance, and I'll get him registered and a key for his room. What's his full name?"

"Carlyle Gold, but I call him Lyle."

"Well, go on down to the basement. I believe the cane is back where the old spinning wheel is stored for the historical society."

"I know where you're talking about. Hopefully, the historical society can get it in working order and someone to demonstrate spinning by Summer for the tourist season," Belle says as she takes the stairs down.

Rummaging around the basement, she finds the cane she desires. It had been a donated prop for the children's pageant, as the original owner had no use for it any longer. It was a lovely old cane, handmade with intricate carvings, but no one had any use for it after the pageant, so it languished in the basement for the past 2 years. It's become covered in dust, grime and cobwebs in that time, but Belle plans to polish it to the point that the maker of the cane would be proud. She takes it to the laundry room, which is an enclosed part of the basement. Sitting the cane on a self, she prepares work on his suit. She Handi-Wipes away any dirt or debris where the suit is torn at the seams and cuffs. She grabs a needle and some charcoal colored thread from the sewing kit to fix the seams and tack the cuffs of Lyle's suit and sets to work, while the drier continues to tumble the clothes. The suit will be taken to the dry-cleaner later, but repairs cost extra, and she is perfectly capable of fixing the torn seams and cuffs herself.

Once the sewing is finished, Belle hangs the suit, awaiting the opportunity to get it to the dry-cleaners. As the drier tumbles on, she retrieves some Pledge and a dust rag from the utility cabinet and begins to clean up and polish the cane. Despite her best efforts, in her mind she hears the addictive bass beat and punchy rhythm of the Yamaha electric grand piano of the Go-Go's song, "Head Over Heels" and eventually begins to sing along with the tune in her head.

"... I must be losin' it

'cause my mind plays tricks on me

It looked so easy

But you know looks sometimes deceive..."

Duncan enters the hostel and smirks, hearing Belle singing from the floor below him and heads towards the laundry room.

"... It seems my weaknesses

Just keeps going strong

Head over heels

Where should I go?

Can't stop myself

Outta control..."

Seeing Belle bopping around the room singing as she's working, Duncan begins to sing with her,

"... Head over heels

No time to think

Looks like

The whole world's out of sync..."

Duncan takes the dust rag from her hand, tossing it onto the washing machine, twirls her, and they continue to sing and dance becoming the embodiment of the word 'dorky.' After a few more bars of the song, they stop out of breath.

"We should start a band." Duncan declares.

"Great idea, but neither of us plays an instrument."

"That hasn't stopped some bands," Duncan smirks, and then adds, "But we'd be fighting over the cute guys."

"No, we wouldn't. I'm not looking for love."


In Belle's room a few moments earlier, Rumplestiltskin heard the faint traces of Belle's singing a tune which is unfamiliar to him. He smiled softly as she sounded happy. Eventually, he heard a male voice join in the singing. He was not sure why that bothered him, but it did. This Belle is not his wife, he reasoned, and then he remembered at the diner, her calling him "Rumple" and apologizing for something about which she didn't know. "Well, she's not Belle, exactly." His head hurt sorting through the uncertainty, trying to understand what had happened. Thus, he decided to be content for the moment, thinking about how happy Belle sounded as she sang, as he mindlessly held his rings dangling from Belle's chain.


Author's Note: Rumple is still trying to figure out what the deal is with Isabelle "Belle" de Ravin, because he's had a lot to process in the last day. But you know from the above A/N that both Belles share the same soul. Less there be any doubt, there is nothing romantic between Belle and Duncan, because Duncan is gay. Duncan/Belle are best friends. Just wondering if any of you name your cars?... And do you talk to them, when you're hoping for them to start on a cold day? Thoughts on Belle delaying her new coat, so she can help get Rumple on his feet?

"Head Over Heels" is a 1984 single, released by the all-female pop rock/new wave band The Go-Go's, with Belinda Carlisle singing lead and written by Charlotte Caffey and Kathy Valentine.

By the way, RumBelle is in the 3rd round of voting for the Zimbio TV Couple's March Madness. RumBelle is currently behind in its bracket, so please vote for them, whether you still watch OUAT or not. Though I no longer watch, I've been voting for RumBelle to honor Robert and Emilie. To find the link, go to Twitter and search #ZimbioMarchMadness or Google it.

Please review this fic... guest reviews are fine. You don't need a FFnet account; I just like to read people's thoughts on my stories.