Chapter 3
Gold's mind raced as he returned to his pawn shop. He wasn't entirely sure how to break Belle out of the little room under the hospital: the bars had screen paneling between them, the squares just the size for his hands and perhaps arms.
Perhaps some of the items in his shop could be of some use. He could simply will her out by magic, of course, but passersby would notice the random appearance of a girl in a white hospital gown in the middle of the sidewalk. Besides, there was no fun in that.
The bell tinkled as he swung the door open, heading straight for the counter. There was no need to check the inventory list: he knew the store by heart. Still, he didn't want anyone coming in and trying to figure out what he was up to.
Sheriff Swan, for instance. That young lady got on his nerves quite often with her unwavering sense of what she called "justice".
Rifling through the shelves, he found what he wanted and tucked it cautiously into the pocket of his jacket, making every effort not to harm the teacup. The decoder settled into place, not even changing the shape of his suit, and he grinned smugly to himself, letting out one of his old, familiar giggles.
That night, Gold drove his car to the hospital and went in the back entrance. He waved the security cameras away from his direction, heading straight for the one door he knew led downstairs. He glanced around, making sure none of the staff were watching, before holding the decoder up to the keypad and letting it scan the entry password into its system. Flashing numbers appeared on the little screen, and he smirked, pushing the buttons on the keypad in the correct combination.
The door swung open, revealing a set of cement stairs descending into a dark, artificially lit hallway. Fluorescent lights lit his path as he descended the short flight of steps and approached the administration area.
Behind the desk, a middle-aged woman, perhaps in her early forties, lay half-asleep in an office chair. The poor woman had dark, violently purple circles under her eyes: most likely Belle's only caretaker. Rumpelstiltskin let her sleep and continued his journey down a hallway. The corridor was lit even more dimly than the main office, the oval bulbs above his head flickering or dead.
A figure leapt out and grabbed Gold's arm, pressing their hand over his mouth before emerging completely from the shadows. The janitor, pale from the lack of sunlight, was someone Gold recognized: Sleepy the Dwarf, who had been missing for quite some time.
The ex-dwarf carefully examined Gold, looking him up and down before releasing the cupped hand over his mouth. "I do not want to know how you got in," Sleepy told him. "I just want to know why you are here."
Rumpelstiltskin gestured to the hallway around him, devoid of doors except for the open janitor's closet from which the dwarf had leapt. "I've come to set her free- wherever she is," he explained simply. "The poor dear must be miserable down in a place like this."
The janitor grunted, nodded, and unclasped his hand from around Gold's arm. "Follow me," he huffed, leading his new guest down the corridor. A set of keys jangled in his hands, the sound echoing through the faded blue area, and Rumpelstiltskin cringed, certain that at any moment the noise would wake the nurse. Still, no one followed them, and Sleepy kept right on jangling away.
A door appeared in front of them, with one small peephole into the room beyond. He pressed his eye to it and caught a glimpse of Belle, slumped half-asleep against the wall of the cell, her matted hair entangling her arms and legs. Gold grew hot with fury as he examined her little room: all stone, cold and unwelcoming, and a seemingly stiff mattress putting barely three inches between Belle and the hard wooden slats of the bed below. It was less of an asylum room than a prison, and he pressed his free hand against the door, leaning on his cane with the other.
Who had done this to his dear, dear Belle?
Sleepy offered him the keys, but Gold's rage made his hands tremble with anger, so the janitor took them back and slid them into the lock, opening the creaky metal door as quietly as he could.
The moment there was enough room for him to slip through, Gold did so, approaching the young woman curled up in a ball on the edge of the cot.
Tapping her shoulder, he poked her, then shook her until she startled awake. She glanced about, her eyes wide as those of a deer in a car's headlights, until finally relaxing and settling her gaze on him.
She sighed in relief. "You came back," she murmured gratefully, exhausted and numb from the cold cell.
Rumpelstiltskin smiled. "Naturally," he told her. "You did once. The least I could do is return the favor."
With that, he lifted her up in his surprisingly strong arms, nodding his thanks at the janitor before sprinting out of the hospital and into the night. Belle had fallen asleep on his shoulder, and he settled her into the passenger seat before climbing in and driving away into the night.