Rumpelstiltskin was still buried in his thoughts the next morning, so he didn't bother trying to leave the house or even get any sleep. How could he when she was alive and well? But she had no memory of him, and even he had to admit that it was probably better that way. Regina's words echoed in his mind. How could someone like her ever forgive him? He forced the idea out of his mind. The first thing he had to do was get her to safety.

Figuring out how to do that was the hard part. Mr. Gold was cunning and used to getting his way. The thing that had always worked to his advantage was that he didn't care about any one else, no one to worry about, and no one to hurt him. That was always the hard part of being the hero, because you had a duty to protect those around you. Rumpelstiltskin was not a hero, but he did have a duty to save Belle. Did that make him a hero? No. I owe her. No matter how you look at it, I will never be anything but a monster.

But sacrificing his memory? That would leave him weak, and if there was one thing Rumpelstiltskin hated to be, it was at the mercy of others. He liked being in control, not to mention that he didn't have the slightest idea who he would be just as "Mr. Gold." He would be completely in the dark, and he had no idea how he could ever protect himself, not to mention Belle in that state. He also knew that losing his memory of Belle could hurt her. Rumpelstiltskin/Mr. Gold was many things, but generous? Kind? Heroic? No. How would he treat the girl if she were just some person who needed his help? She would no longer be Belle to him, the girl who loved him, and more importantly, that he loved.

All of these thoughts were getting him nowhere, so finally he went and stared at his chipped cup, hoping to get answers.

Soon. He thought to himself, more to ease his conscience than anything. I'm not being selfish. I'm protecting her. I will wait.

-RBRB-

She woke to a small pressure in the very spot she had been hit the night before. Had she been shocked? Hit? Cut? Electrocuted? Any seemed plausible. Groaning, she tried to get up, to open her eyes, but her body refused. Belle? Was that her? The name sparked no recognition whatsoever. Maybe she had been dreaming again.

"Hello?" She stiffened. The voice was unfamiliar and new to her. Despite her cries the night before the last thing she wanted now was a new person in her room. Now all she wanted was a cup full of colorful pills to whisk her away. "Are you okay?" The dull ache in her back exploded into pain and she bolted upright.

Standing next to her with his index finger out was a small boy. "Did you poke me?" She asked in surprise. He nodded, his mouth in a round O, but he didn't step back.

"Who are you? I've never seen you before," He asked, his eyes wide. She stopped and studied him for a moment. Small, with messy hair and a cute face. How old was he? Six, seven? She couldn't remember ever being that age. Then again, she didn't know how old she was in the first place.

"I'm…" She stopped. Who was she? The question repeated itself in her mind, but she wasn't a bit closer to finding out then yesterday. "I don't know who I am," she answered truthfully.

The boy's head cocked to the side. "I'm Henry. Why are you in my house?"

"Henry…" She tried to get her bearings. Why was that name familiar? She tried to think, but her head hurt too much. She gave up. "This is your house?" It didn't look like a very good place for a child.

"Well…"Henry looked around the room doubtfully. "The upstairs part is. I've never been down here, but this morning I found the staircase over there"—he pointed to his left—"and I wanted to see who was down here," He grinned at her. "I thought I heard someone down here last night!" He announced triumphantly. "My mother said that I must have been dreaming."

He looked at her, as if trying to read into her. "I thought when I saw you sleeping that you might be Sleeping Beauty. I haven't met her yet," before the girl could question his words, he continued. "But now I know you're Belle."

Belle? There was that name again. "Did you know me?" She asked, trying to keep her voice calm. Maybe Henry did know her, and he could lead her out and help her see who she was..."Do you think—"

"Henry!" A frantic voice called. "Henry! Where are you?"

"That's her now," Henry said, sounding disappointed. "I'll have to come back later," He started walking away, and she reached toward him desperately from her place on the floor. "Wait! Henry! Please—"

"Henry?" A cold voice broke through the chaos, the same one that had been calling for him seconds earlier. The small boy, who had been looking at the girl on the floor, turned his head.

"Sorry," He said, not sounding sorry in the least. Immediately, he added, "Is this why you brought Mr. Gold here yesterday?"

"Henry," The woman brushed off his question, keeping her voice level. "Go upstairs. Now. I will speak to you in a moment," Henry stood up and scuttled away, turning around once to give a small smile to the girl. "Bye, Belle!" He waved.

The woman's mouth gaped open in horror, but the damage had been done. Why is she so shocked? The girl wondered, but like the rest of her questions remained up in the air, unanswered.

"Do not try communicating with him, do not scream, do not cry, do not make a sound!" The dark-eyed woman hissed in pure fury. The girl could not look away, because the eyes of the woman were something she finally recognized. At least she had finally gotten a full look at her captor. Or was this not the one keeping her here?

She buried her face in her arms until the woman finally left her alone. "What the hell is going on?" She asked herself.