Dreams are real. Dreams are real. Dreams are real.
With an open heart, she believed all that her soul had spoken to her in the dark of night. As the memories flooded her mind, Belle's list of truth grew exponentially. Magic was real and so were monsters. However, Belle knew that neither she nor Rumplestiltskin were evil beasts. Rather, Belle believed she loved a man whose soul had, for a very long time, been infected with an impenetrable darkness.
But, True Love shatters darkness. It was her favorite truth. Slowly, love had begun to illuminate Rumplestiltskin's heart, dispelling the gloom of the Dark One. A delicate blush graced her cheeks as she remembered their first kiss, her contribution to the miraculous transformation True Love had wrought. In that kiss, a thousand sparks had showered down upon them, welding their souls together with a love that was as ever-satisfying as it was utterly unquenchable. Her cheeks turned an even deeper shade of pink as she considered the part she hoped to play in the future. The near future.
Belle was growing impatient to leave the hospital. She knew now as well as Dr. Whale that her memory loss had been the result of a curse, not brain trauma. The medical tests he insisted on giving her were simply demonstrative. Dr. Whale wanted to convince her that she was in a normal hospital in an ordinary town. He was doing the same thing to Greg, the man who had been driving the car the night of the accident. Greg's injuries had been more serious—he had nearly died—so his extended hospital stay went unquestioned. Greg probably thought Dr. Whale was merely doing his due diligence; however, Belle knew the staff wanted to make sure Storybrooke's best kept secrets stayed hidden. Belle guessed neither she nor Greg would be released until they convinced Dr. Whale that magic was nothing more than black silk top hats and cheap card tricks.
Of course, Belle briefly considered telling Dr. Whale that her memory had returned. However, there were many reasons to keep her recovery to herself. As much as she loved Rumple, she had to admit that he was deeply intertwined with the worst drama in both the Enchanted Forest and Storybrooke. Like the shadow of Peter Pan, conflict had a mind of its own and followed dear Rumple everywhere. Because of her association with Storybrooke's infamous Mr. Gold, she was pulled into the line of fire—literally.
However, Hook had stepped in and excused Belle from the field. Oh, she was still in the game, but Fate had offered her a seat on the bench. Without her memories, she had no knowledge which could be used against Rumple. Belle thought it highly unlikely that another attempt would be made on her life. If anyone so much as touched her, even now, they risked the swift and untempered wrath of the Dark One. But, as long as she lived, Rumple's enemies could safely watch him suffer through the agony of unrequited love.
Belle quickly determined that Rumple would be the first person to learn the truth about her recovered memory. Her decision had nothing to do with personal safety, alliances, or wicked schemes. She wanted Rumple to know first. She had seen the despair in his eyes that night on the road. She didn't think she could stand it if he heard the truth from any lips other than hers. In order for that to happen, Belle would have to convince everyone that the effects of the curse were permanent.
For the most part, it was easier than she expected. She rarely had to play the liar. The folly of assumption was her closest ally. Everyone believed Belle's memories were gone for good. Tom Clark— Sneezy, as he was known to the dwarves—had never recovered and neither would she. As long as Belle kept her own counsel, no one thought any different.
Some were not so easily fooled or convinced. Nurse Linda's eyes sparkled with a particularly knowing glint as if she were a fellow conspirator in on the secret. However, she was so cheerful Belle did not mark her as a threat. Greg was another issue altogether. He repeatedly tried to convince her that magic was real and they had witnessed it in action. He was obsessed and continuously came into her room to ply her with questions about Storybrooke and the night of the accident. Belle did her best to deflect his investigation. Whenever she could, she played the amnesia card. When he didn't back off, Belle felt compelled to bring his invasive visits to the attention of Nurse Mildred.
Belle murmured, "Poor guy, he just goes on and on about magic as if it were real. I feel badly for him."
Mildred's beady eyes had narrowed and she had pressed her lips together. "Don't worry, dear. I'll see that he doesn't bother you anymore."
After that, Greg stopped visiting her room. Belle felt terrible about setting the officiously stern nurse against poor Greg. However, it was as necessary as it was unfortunate. She didn't know how much longer she could avert his never-ending questions.
When Dr. Whale asked, she eagerly admitted to wanting to be released. She hoped that returning to a familiar environment might spark some shred of her memory. Dr. Whale nodded but did not offer her any false hope. Despite his reluctance to discharge her, she finally convinced him by suggesting he release her under the care of a trusted friend: Ruby.
Later that afternoon, she dozed in her hospital bed as she waited for Dr. Whale to sign the final discharge papers. The sharp sound of high heels clacking on the tiles just outside her door brought her back to the waking world. Belle was expecting Ruby. When Regina stepped into the room, Belle had to remove all signs of recognition from her countenance. She hoped Regina would believe as easily as the others had.
Belle quickly managed a weak, "Who are you?"
Regina did not answer her question. Instead she commented, "So it is true. You really don't remember anything."
In the same turn, Belle refused to answer. She asked, "Are we friends?"
"We spent some time together," Regina evasively admitted. She continued, "But I'm here because I think you can help me find something that belongs to Rumplestiltskin."
"Who?" Belle asked as if she had not heard the name. Regina must be desperate if she was trying to pump someone with amnesia for information.
"Mr. Gold," Regina clarified.
"I, uh, I don't know him," Belle lied pitifully.
The next thing Belle knew, Linda was calling her name.
"Ms. French? Belle?"
She furrowed her brow and rubbed her eyes. "Hmm?"
"Sorry to wake you, but I thought you'd want to know the papers are all signed and ready. Ruby is on her way to pick you up and will meet you in the lobby. You're on your way home."
Linda handed Belle a canvas tote bag. Inside were a pair of black jeans, a cream and navy-blue striped shirt, and a thick, grey tweed blazer from her closet at home. Belle dressed quickly and wondered who had sent the clothes. Poor Rumple surrounded the house with impossibly strong enchantments. Only a powerful magician could break through those barriers.
She picked up her purse and reached for her phone to see if she had any missed calls. Rumple had not called or texted since his last visit. There were no new messages. Of course, there wouldn't be. At their last meeting she had not given any sign that she would appreciate continued contact. Belle sighed with disappointment as she debated calling him. She was desperate to hear his voice. Had he found Baelfire? In the end, she decided against the call. Rumple was intuitive enough to deduce the state of her condition, and her news was best shared in person.
Belle rifled through the remaining contents of her purse. Something was missing.
"No, no, no, no!" she cried aloud. "It's not here!"
Of all the things she had remembered, how could she have forgotten about the index card Rumple had given her? The night of the accident he had slipped the card into her hands as if he were giving her the keys to the gates of Heaven.
She recognized the call numbers: 915.63. "Planning a trip to Asia? Is that where Bae is?"
Rumple shook his head, "No, he's in Manhattan." He pointed to the card, "This is something I want you to have. Something I want you to keep for me."
"What is it?" she asked, turning the card over in her hand.
She expected him to evade the question, as he almost always did. But he was adding honesty and openness to his character in greater doses every day. He cupped her cheek in his hand and placed his forehead against hers, sighing deeply.
He whispered softly, "It's a map—one that will guide you to a dagger."
"A dagger? I don't understand," she protested.
He hesitatingly explained, "When I became the Dark One, my name was inscribed on that blade. It is the source of my power. Whoever owns it controls me. Whoever kills me with it becomes the Dark One."
He took her hands in his, caressing the backs of her knuckles with his thumbs. "I've kept it hidden for three hundred years."
Belle snapped her purse shut and bolted for the door. She should have known something was wrong when Regina had come into her hospital room. Regina had been looking for an object that belonged to Rumple and Belle had inadvertently told her how to find it. Belle did not wait in the lobby for Ruby. She had to get to the library.
A/N: What's going to happen? Read on!