Every second apart from her is pure hell. There's no meaning to my life, no reason to get up if she is not there, and not a part of my every day life. This miserable state of being is a heart break I hadn't been prepared to go through the first time, yet alone the second. And yet here I am, hurting and heart sick, desperate and drowning, needing Belle but not having her.

It is not from a lack of trying. Two days after our disastrous meeting in her library, Belle would finally dare to step outside Granny's home. I would spot her immediately from my hiding spot of several blocks away, thanks hugely in part to my looking glass that had never diverted it's gaze from that building. Now I would be locked onto Belle, and I would watch her every jittery, nervous step, the woman having been supremely paranoid and casting her frightened gaze in the direction of every little noise.

Maybe she wouldn't have been so on edge if someone had accompanied her. But the wolf had been nowhere to be found, and Granny had been busy running her shift at the diner. It was circumstances I couldn't have hoped to better, Belle alone and walking hurriedly down the street in my direction.

It was exactly what I had hoped for, but my heart still gave a nervous flutter. I had been as scared as I had been excited, and it was feelings that would lead me to be unpredictable if I couldn't master them. I had had to get control of myself, or risk another scene just like the one I had caused in her library two days prior.

Controlling myself when she was in reach was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. It was right up there with losing Mila, the struggle to behave going against my every instinct and desire to grab her and kiss her. But somehow I managed, though just barely, Belle passing by my hiding spot completely unaware and unmolested.

I'd count twenty seconds, and then begin trailing her. My heart would beat like a hammer in my chest, my eyes glued to her back. I nearly moaned then, appreciating the swing of her hips as she grew more confidant on this excursion. For the longer she went without seeing me, the more Belle would relax, to the point she stopped jumping at every sound, and actually paused to say hello to several people.

Those people I was jealous of, possessive of Belle, and of the smiles she had so freely given out. I didn't want to share any of her, not even the curving of her lips. I was a man possessed, ready to cart her away, envious of those who received her warmth, vowing to keep it, keep her all to myself.

I understand it's a completely irrational way to behave. That I'm unhealthy to think this way, to be this possessive. But I've had love taken from me before, had my heart break so completely that I had lived for nothing but my revenge. Until her, until Belle. She had breathed true love back into me, brought warmth and joy, and most of all laughter back into my life. Together, I had learned to be happy, to let go of the past that had tormented me so. I had moved on from my first love, finally realizing that three hundred years was too long to mourn. Belle broke me out of my grief, made me look forward to what the future could hold for me, for us.

She gave me so much, and in one night it all went away. I couldn't, wouldn't accept it. I refused to lose her, refused to not fight for us. I was determined to piece together the happy ever after we had started on, whether she wanted it or not. But I didn't truly believe Belle wanted nothing to do with me. Especially after that morning in the library, when she had called off her friend the wolf. That one act had done everything to give me hope in a world that had seemed without it, and I wouldn't let go.

Determined to build on that hope, I would continue to stalk Belle. I'd follow her through the busy main street, until she would finally choose a shop to enter. And then I would follow her inside, covertly stalking her through the aisles and aisles of food. She'd wander but with purpose, adding certain things to her metal cart. So love sick was I, that I enjoyed just the act of watching her do this, but soon it wasn't enough. Soon I could no longer just hang back and stare, I needed to be near her, to smell her, to actually talk to her.

I wanted to do more than just talk, but I tried to control myself. Yearning for any contact, even just the touch of her hand, I had snuck up behind her. I had been so tempted to stroke my fingers through her hair, so tempted to lean in to smell her. Instead I had reached for the very fruit she was inspecting, my hand snatching the round grapefruit away from her.

She'd stiffen immediately, having recognized the rings on the hand that had stolen the fruit out from under her. I wouldn't say hello in the normal fashion, instead practicing a calm I didn't feel, as I would use my hook to peel apart the grapefruit. It's rich tangy scent had filled the air, the grapefruit sliced apart to reveal it's tasty inner flesh.

Holding it out to her, I began speaking quietly about the first time we had shared such a treat. How the juice had dripped down our chins, how she had delighted in watching the drops catch and shine in my chin scruff. How she had said it was the best thing she could ever remember tasting, and then had laughed because that wasn't saying much given her amnesia.

Belle would turn slowly to me, and actually take the grapefruit from my hand. She wouldn't try to eat any of it, though she would gaze down at it with a sad expression. She'd then tell me that she remembered that night, causing my heart to surge with hope. I'd try to remain calm, asking her what exactly did she remember.

Again that sad expression, Belle having looked at me with troubled eyes. She would tell me it was the night a great weight had been lifted from her, that it was the night I had first taken her from the hospital. We both remembered how happy she had been that night, in her blue dotted hospital gown. Carrying herself off like a finely dressed princess, practically dancing on air. Her happiness had been infectious, though I hadn't been ready to dance. Instead I had kept her grounded, her hold on my arm keeping her from floating away with her excitement over finally being free.

That night on the streets, I'd steal for her. It wasn't much, just some fruit from a stand. But she had delighted in it all the same, as though I could do no wrong in her eyes, even when committing a crime. That delight wasn't in her eyes as she told me this, her voice going flat as she dropped the grapefruit and let is smash on the floor. She'd tell me more wrongs had been committed than just the stealing of fruit. Hurt in her eyes, she would accused me of lying to her. Of using her. Wondering if any of it had been real, wondering if I wasn't still playing some sick game with her.

I had panicked to hear her accusations, the denials falling fervently from my lips. I had begged her to believe me, to give me a chance to prove what we had was real. I went so far as to tell her that I love her, but it wasn't what she wanted to hear. Belle was simply too determined that day to twist everything, to make it all about my revenge. I suppose she thought it was less painful that way, than to believe in our love.

She'd openly begin crying when I desperately began bringing up more memories, the cherished moments we had spent together, slowly learning to love each other. I tried to make her see that at some point it had stopped being about my revenge, that I had fallen hopelessly, helplessly, irreversible in love with her. She would stand there shaking her head no, but even as I had panicked and fought for her, I had noted her misery. She had looked very much like someone whose heart was breaking, whose love had been shattered. She had looked like I felt, the two of us united even in our misery.

So badly did I want to comfort her. So badly did I want her to reassure me. Neither thing seemed capable of happening, especially then in the store, where a curious crowd was in the midst of gathering. I would then take Belle by the arm, highly encouraged when she didn't outright pull away. I wouldn't ask, I would just lead, depending on her to trust me enough to follow without protest.

She did, a fact that would have had me grinning, if not for the fact she was quietly weeping. I couldn't ignore those tears, those glistening drops like shards of glass slicing into my heart. I'd take her from the store, but only as far as the nearest street bench. And there I would sit us both down, not caring who stopped and stared, so long as my arms were around her and I was able to comfort her in some way.

I like to think she allowed it as much for the familiar sensation of my strong arms around her, as she did for the fact I hadn't tried to take her somewhere more private. She had felt safe on the street, safe with so many people around us. I wanted her to feel safe with ME, but then how could she, especially after what had been attempted in her safe haven, the library. I had violated her trust, abused her, even terrified her to the point she was jumping at noise, afraid to leave Granny's house. And when she had finally had the courage to try to live her life, I was there, so quick and ready to remind her of everything she had wanted to forget.

If I was a different man, a good man, maybe I would have been able to leave her alone. Maybe if I hadn't loved her with every last beat of my heart, I would have been able to let go of her, of us. But I wasn't, and my love only grew stronger as I turned more desperate with each passing day. Possessive under normal circumstances, now that I stood on the precipice of losing her, my love became something sinister.

I needed her, and it drove me. Made me obsessed with having her. I'm not just talking in a sexual manner. I wanted all of her, from her keen intellect, to her lively conversation, to even the fierceness of her temper when aroused. I wanted the everyday things with her, to wander Stroybrooke with her, or to sail it's harbor. I wanted the camaraderie, the special smiles, to sit back and just enjoy watching her as she read through one of her many favorite books. I wanted her warmth for my own, to be able to freely touch her hair, to make her smile, to make her moan.

Instead all I seemed capable of causing her was tears. A part of me was relieved I could still make her feel anything at all, but I wasn't truly happy this way. Neither was she, Belle struggling with her memories and the cause of her distress. I should have given her time to cope, but I feared the conclusions she would draw on her own. I felt I needed to be a constant presence in her life, to be there to reassure her, to remind her of my-our love. I needed to make her believe in us, needed to get her to trust in me and in the love that I felt so strongly.

It was with that goal in mind, that I would bring forth another cherished memory. I'd whisper it into her hair, my voice quiet enough that she had had to really stop and focus to make out my words. But she had listened, with only the occasional sniffle and shuddered breath to interrupt me.

I had talked of the night I had taught her a sea captain's most guarded and most important skill. The secret to navigating by the stars, so that she would always be able to find her way home, no matter how lost she might feel. Just as I had then, I marveled at the one constant in all the realms, how the stars were always the same, so many different worlds living united under one sky.

That night she had had many questions for me, but then it wasn't often that she tried to curb her curiosity. That night she had been brimming with it, curious about the other worlds, the places I had been, the places I might go. She had enjoyed the open honesty I treated her to, how I never tried to hide where I was really from, or the magic that was part of it's nature. She had been fascinated by the land of fairytales and magic, intrigued by the wonders of Wonderland, and amazed by the time defying powers of Neverland. She had been adorable that night, so cutely flabbergasted when I had told her that she too had defied time for roughly twenty eight years.

That night, was the night I fully delved into the Evil Queen's curse, teaching her the history of how Storybrooke had come into existence. Except for a few minor twists in truth, I had left nothing out, a fact my enrapt audience of one had appreciated. It wasn't often I got to see her so quiet, but Belle would recover quick enough to delude me with questions.

I recounted how I had laughed that night, teasing her with the promise that I wasn't going anywhere, that there would be time for more lessons to verse her in our realm's storied history. She had pouted cutely then, eager to know it all, but made to understand that even an abbreviated form would take several nights to tell.

I had smiled against her hair, but it had been tinted with sadness. Because that night I had felt like Belle and I had all the time in the world for all the stories and adventures we could have ever wanted to experience. But there on that street bench, I wasn't so certain, our future in doubt, US in doubt. I had needed reassurance, I had needed her, and on impulse I had asked her to come with me to my ship.

"Let me show you the stars." I had said to her, and Belle had calmly pointed out that it wasn't the right time of day to even hope of seeing them. A bit mischievous, I had teased her that it wasn't day time everywhere all at once in this world. That I had ship that could not only sail the seas, it could soar the very skies, the possibilities endless for us.

I had then given her my most charming smile, my eyes alight with excitement and adventure and hope. She just had to say yes, she had too! One single word that would lead to an important break through for our healing, and all she needed to do was agree.

Of course she wouldn't. Nothing in life worth having is ever that easy, and the woman that I love was no different. Of course I hadn't help matters, perhaps too conveniently forgetting she was still bound by Storybrooke's curse. She hadn't forgotten, fearing I had meant to curse her into losing herself once more.

I swear now that that wasn't my intent, but a part of me at her accusation, had silently wondered if the curse might not be the only way to truly get her back. She'd forget me, the memories we had made together, but then she would also forget her fear of me. I knew we would be able to start over then, but I wasn't desperate enough to want to hurt her in that way. Even now I still don't want to resort to such an extreme measure, though the temptation of it will always still exist.

That day she had read the temptation of it in my eyes, Belle abruptly trying to struggle free of my arms. For one lingering moment, I had held on, before reluctantly allowing her to slip free. But though I had freed her of my arms, I hadn't freed her from my pleas, my voice almost breaking as I had begged her to please wait.

She would pause, though she kept from looking at me directly. I can remember scrubbing my hand over my face in an agitated betrayal of my feelings. I would then ask her to come back with me to my ship, that we didn't have to go anywhere, or do anything but talk. I barely got the words out before she was shaking her head no, before Belle was telling me there was nothing left to talk about. I would protest that there was everything, that we needed to sort out her feelings, that I would help her come to grips with the love she had for me.

She had turned on me then with a broken sound, vehemently insisting that she didn't love me. I had countered back that she did, that she wouldn't be hurting this much if she didn't have genuine feelings for me. We began to argue, our love and happiness at stake on the outcome. I meant to win, and not just the argument, but to win her back in my life. She tried to frustrate me at every turn, and at my most wounded I had brought up Rumplestiltskin and the fact that she had yet to return to him.

Belle had paled then, and I had stepped closer, moving in for the kill. Telling her that if she truly felt nothing for me, then she would have already reunited with that monster. I felt closer to victory when she hadn't bother to protest that he wasn't a monster, but Belle had not yet been defeated.

"I haven't gone back to him because I am ashamed."

That quiet admittance, had left me reeling, as though she had slapped me. I couldn't imagine what there was for her to be ashamed about, didn't want to think it was our love that had made her feel like that, that I made her feel like that.

"You're lying." I had accused. "Love is never something to be ashamed of."

"It is when it is with the wrong person." Belle had said in retort. Again it felt as though I had been slapped, and I had reached out to grab her. She would fight me, twisting so that I could only get hold of her arm. The fact that she would struggle right after saying such a thing made me lose all rhyme and reason, causing me to shake her in my fit of anger.

I can't even remember what I said next, that was how angry I had been. But I remember the look on her face, the wounded tears, and her near violent attempt to get her arm free of my hand. It was that precise moment that HE walked by, Rumplestiltskin pausing to offer her his assistance. It had just made me angrier, and I lashed out at him. Or I had tried to at any rate, his magic stopping me in my tracks. Rumplestiltskin had smirked at me, then turned to talk to Belle, but she had merely shook her head before taking off running.

Rumplestiltskin would be bothered by that, and would turn to take it out on me. I had been all smiles, despite what he could have done to me. My happiness was all because Belle hadn't stuck around, hadn't stayed to talk to him. In fact she had barely acknowledged him, barely looked his way and I refused to believe it had to do with that ashamed feeling she had tried to lay claim to. Her love had distorted, I was sure of it, the months Belle had spent with me changing her, her desires, and her needs. She couldn't go back, not to him, and not to that chaste relationship that he had insisted upon.

Perhaps it was cocky of me to think the months we had spent together had left so permanent a mark on her heart. Maybe I was too confidant in what I thought was my appeal, too certain of my ability to charm even her. I was sure I could wear her down, that I could breech all her defenses, and win her back. I should have left her alone and given her some time, but I simply loved her too much to do even that.

To Be Continued...!

Whoo longest chapter yet for this series! XD I'm pretty pleased with this chapter, though right now three is my fave of the four. For the most part I like four, but...I am a little iffy or unsatisfied with the last paragraph. Oh I don't think it sucks, but I wonder if I could have added more to it, a better ending line but..*shrugs sheepishly*

I wrote a fair chunk of this last night, before my brain shut down due to being tired. Of course in the morning, I had to go over it to try and correct Hook's narrative. In my tired state I had more trouble than usual with the past and present tenses. I tried to fix it, since he IS telling you of stuff that happened in the recent past, but I'm afraid I've always had trouble with it when it was related to speaking in past tenses. *sighs all pouty*

I'm kinda giggly too, cause I had quite the brain storm session while showering. Couldn't rinse out my hair fast enough to get to the computer, to write down the new scene ideas. :)

I wonder if I should update this right away, or wait a while to let people digest three first...*ponders*

-Michelle

Holding Out For A Pirate Hero, aw I don't think you're sick. But then again I do have a kidnapping fetish! *blush* And this is a slight spoiler, but a kidnapping will happen...maybe as soon as five! Depends on how I feel, and how the chapter flows. I had actually hoped to have a line at the end of four about he was through waiting on her, or something like that, but it didn't happen. So right now I am having a debate with myself if I should go to the kidnapping, or have one more flash back narrative first.