The Enchanted Forest, one month pre-curse

Belle had run out of supplies a few weeks after escaping from her father's castle. She spent the first week walking through the woods before she ran out of food, though by then she'd been fairly certain she was far enough away from the castle that she could evade detection in her peasant's clothing. In case anyone should press her, she had worked out a story: She'd be a refugee, a war widow returning to her family home.

Her preparations had turned out to be meaningless; there were so many refugees moving in the lands around Avonlea since Rumpelstiltskin had ended the war that no one paid much mind to a lone woman in the crowd. She was on the borders of King Midas' lands when the first truly interesting thing had happened.

Taverns had become the highlight of Belle's travels. They were her source of news and food and (very occasionally) company. On this night, she was in a little tavern in a little town far away from her home when she came across a familiar face.

He was surrounded by strange men, but there was no mistaking the thief (what had Nottingham called him? Robin of Locksley?) who had come to the Dark Castle all those months ago. She stared down into her drink as he and his friends entered on a wave of laughter and good cheer. Belle had no idea how to even approach the man ("How have you been? Tortured by any other sorcerers recently?") but luckily he saved her the trouble.

"My lady!" the thief exclaimed as soon as his eyes lit upon her. "You escaped!"

He slid onto the bench across from her, his companions completely forgotten in his excitement to see her.

"I wouldn't say 'escaped' exactly," she replied, trying hard to keep the hurt out of her voice. "He sent me away.

"Oh," Robin said. "Oh...well, then."

She could hear the shock and confusion in his voice at her near admission, the unspoken him? and disbelief that she had been sad to leave the Dark One.

"Yeah," she agreed with his sentiment if not his actual words. "It's a long story. But you! You were to be a father!"

"I am a father," he said proudly, relief and pride both evident in his voice. "A little boy. His name is Roland."

"That's a lovely name," she replied. "And his mother? Is she here? I'd love to meet her!"

There was a pause in which Belle understood she'd made a terrible mistake.

"My Marian is no longer with us," he said solemnly. "She's passed."

"The wand didn't work?" she blurted out before she could stop herself. Rumple had always said that all magic came with a price, but Belle had seen it work on this woman.

"No, the wand worked," he replied. "This was later."

The silence became awkward and crushing, and Belle just wanted to go back thirty seconds and stop herself from even asking. This was the first friend she'd had since she'd left her father's home (and perhaps the second one she'd had at all in the last year), and now they were both trying desperately to pretend the other wasn't really there.

A cough nearby drew both their attention to the men assembled around them and Belle could have cried in relief.

"Were you planning to introduce us?" a large man holding a bow asked with a little twinkle in his eye.

"Of course!" the thief exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "Little John, Friar Tuck, everyone...this is..."

He gestured towards her, and it occurred to her that he hadn't known her name. Rumple would never introduce her by name to anyone, nor did he like her saying it in front of anyone. Names, after all, have power.

"Belle," she supplied, standing quickly and dropping into a shallow curtsy. "My name is Belle."

"Robin Hood," he replied with a quick bow towards her. "And the Merry Men, at your service."

Storybrooke, two days after the curse break

Rumpelstiltskin had no idea what to do about Belle, or more accurately, he had no idea how to make what had happened to her right again or if that was even a thing he was capable of doing. She'd woken up pregnant with his child - there were probably laws about that sort of thing, actually. Or at least there probably were in this world. In the old world, who knew? It had been a patchwork system where (depending on the reigning monarch and your social status) the stronger you were, the more you could get away with. It was the same here, to a certain extent, but at least there were systems in place.

He watched Belle as she dawdled over her lemonade, swirling the ice around before trying to sip whatever meager amounts of fluid might still remain. He was sure she was avoiding his company as long as possible, and he didn't really blame her for it. He'd avoid himself as well, if he were in her shoes.

"Do you think Princess Abigail is alright?" Belle asked suddenly.

"She was alive last I saw her," he replied. "Although admittedly a little traumatized."

He hadn't seen Princess Abigail since the night she'd been rescued from Regina, and at the time she had been bundled up in the back of an ambulance with a blanket around her shoulders as an EMT who used to be a talking cat checked her vitals, and at the time he'd been far more concerned with making sure Regina knew he'd been the one to cause her to fail so spectacularly to pay much attention to the bossy princess.

"Do you think I could go see her?"

"That would be more her choice than mine," he replied. "But I'm sure something can be arranged."

Unless, of course, she didn't want to deal with the woman carrying the Dark One's child, which was a fear he didn't dare voice to her.

"I'd like that," she said. "It would be nice to have a friend."

"You know her?" he asked. He hadn't realized Belle had been friendly with the princess, or he might have put a bit more effort into keeping her from being murdered.

"We were friends before," Belle replied sounding so very far away now. "When we were girls, I would go to court. Before the ogres came, anyway. That's where I was going where the curse hit – to find Abigail."

That made sense. Lady-in-waiting to a princess would be a perfectly accepted career for a young lady of Belle's social standing, and if she couldn't stay with her father, then seeking refuge of that sort with a friend would have been her last best choice.

Someday, he would ask Belle what had happened in the time after she left him. Someday, when he wasn't afraid of the answers, he'd want to know. How had she stayed safe that whole time? Where had she gone on her way to seek refuge with Midas?

But Rumpelstiltskin was a coward, and he didn't ask her those questions. Instead, he rose and began gathering the paper plates and wrappers from their meal and throwing them away. It was something constructive he could do, at least. Some little thing to keep the day going forward, to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

The ringing of the little bell over the door drew his attention, and he felt Belle stiffen beside him before he even registered that Regina had entered the shop. She stopped short at the sight of him standing there at the counter, but her usual smug smirk was back on her face soon enough that he almost missed her shock.

"I see you made bail," he said as calmly as he could manage. "I don't know what that says about the local authorities."

"Hardly," she sniffed. "It seems some people in town are still loyal to their queen."

"Which one?" he replied evenly. "Because last I heard, Snow White had gone through a portal."

"Before I forget," Regina said, glancing to Belle. "I never did offer you my congratulations on your bun in the oven. Do keep me in mind when it comes time to pick a godmother, won't you?"

Rumpelstiltskin could feel Belle moving a little bit closer to him once Regina's attention had turned to her, but at the reference to their baby she suddenly had her hand on his elbow as though reassuring herself he was there. He positioned himself a little further in front of her, a protective motion that neither woman seemed to miss. Belle tightened her hold on him just a hair while Regina gave an exasperated growl and stormed to the nearest bookshelf to begin examining the tomes kept there.

"Can I help you find something in particular?" he asked, enjoying the annoyed look she shot him. "Or were you just browsing?"

"Can it, Gold," Regina snarled. "You know what I want."

"Enlighten me," he replied. "I'm afraid if you're after recommendations I haven't read all of them, but you do know where the library is."
Regina sighed loudly before turning to face him.

"Where's my mother's spell book?"

"You mean where's my spell book?" he said. "It was mine to start with, after all."

"Where is it?"

"Oh it's here," he replied. "But you're not taking it."

"And who's going to stop me?" she said as she approached the counter.

Belle withdrew further behind him, so close that he felt her bump brush against him.

"Me, for one," he shot back. "You've not quite given me a good reason to want you to have access to magic."

"I know something you want kept a secret," Regina replied, glancing at the pile of atlases and maps strewn across the counters. "I know that our world still exists."

He couldn't help laughing at that.

"You think I honestly care?" he said.

Regina seemed taken aback by his casual dismissal of what she had clearly hoped was her trump card.

"Nobody can go back," he continued. "I spent gods-only-know how long getting us over here. Whether or not the other world exists is meaningless."

"For old time's sake then," Regina said. "We've been allies, Gold. You'd never even have gotten here if it wasn't for me."

She must be desperate to try that particular appeal, and he did like her best when she was desperate for something.

"Spare me," he replied. "You and I both know that you've outlived your use in that respect, and you've given me no reason to want to give you the power to go against me. Especially now."

She shot a glance over his shoulder towards Belle and her eyes narrowed.

"Well, at least you've impressed your girlfriend," Regina said, affecting a fake cheerfulness as she turned towards the door. "This isn't over, Gold. I'm going to get that book."

She slammed the door behind her as she stormed out.

"I'd like to see you try," he growled to no one in particular before turning to face Belle. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she said, pulling back a little bit now that the threat was gone but not quite enough to not be in his personal space anymore. "She's just...I don't want to see her."

"I don't either," he tried to be as reassuring as possible. "She is quite unpleasant. But she can't hurt you here, Belle. Either of you. You have my word."

Belle gave a little nod, and he was hoping she wasn't thinking of the last time he'd broken his word to her. They'd both promised forever, after all. He was about to move away to let her gather herself in peace when suddenly she threw herself into his arms and let out a little sob as she pressed her face into his chest.

Rumpelstiltskin didn't delude himself that this was some grand declaration of her tender feelings. She was scared and alone and pregnant – and just last week Lacey had started sobbing uncontrollably because they were out of mayonnaise. Still, though, he wrapped his arms tight around Belle, petting her hair and making little shushing noises until she finally gave a last little sniffle and pulled back a bit apologetically.

"Sorry," she said. "I just...I don't know. Thank you, though."

"Think nothing of it," he replied, taking a risk and brushing some hair off of her face. She was puffy and her cheeks were sticky and red. "It's literally the least I can do."

She laughed at that, the same way she'd always laughed at his awful jokes and idle threats. It made him long for the time before when things between them only seemed complicated because he made them complicated.

"I didn't just mean for letting me cry," she said after she'd settled down. "I meant thank you for before. With Regina."

He had no idea what to say to that. If she owed him anything at all, it wasn't gratitude. Regina never would have had her eyes on Belle in the first place if he hadn't put them there.

"It's no matter," he said at last. "She can't hurt you here. I won't let her."

"I know," she replied, offering him a sweet little smile that he mentally filed away for a rainy day.

She was so damn beautiful, and so unsure of herself for a split second before she lunged forward and kissed him.

It took Rumpelstiltskin a moment to recover from his shock. Belle was kissing him, and this time it was somehow even less expected than the last. Her arms were around his neck holding him close and he indulged in letting himself hold her close and then he was kissing her back. It was only his second time kissing Belle, although Gold and Lacey had obviously done far more than that. She was timider this time, but far more enthusiastic somehow. She didn't press for anything, but she eagerly returned his kisses now that he was giving them.

After a few minutes they broke apart, but she didn't pull away again. Instead, Belle rested her face on his chest again and he trailed his fingertips up and down her arms.

"I'm sorry," she said after a few minutes. "I shouldn't have done that."

"Please don't apologize," he replied, shutting his eyes tight and praying he could shut out reality just this little bit longer. "There's nothing to apologize for."

"I'm not ready yet," she explained and he nodded in agreement, hoping he didn't seem too eager.

He'd wait as long as she wanted, because this was already more than he'd ever thought to have.