Published November 6, 2012. Edited January 14, 2013. Takes place between "Broken" and "The Crocodile."
Rumpelstiltskin meant what he said, when he told Belle that she should leave. He knew now that if she stayed, if they tried to have something, he would only hurt and disappoint her again.
It was Belle who gently asserted that she needed to stay, for his sake as well as her own. Rumpelstiltskin agreed, because he wanted to do what made her happy, and because he was still selfish enough to want her here with him.
There was some lingering awkwardness, even tension, between the two of them. Now, their feelings were out in the open, but their actions were still limited.
Sometimes Rumpelstiltskin would make a small gesture—patting her hand, squeezing her shoulder—either out of affection, or to assure himself that she was indeed there. When he first saw her in Storybrooke, he had thought she might be an illusion conjured by Regina or someone else's dark magic; he hadn't believed it until he touched her and felt how real she was.
In his house, he taught her about the things that existed in this world, things that she hadn't been able to experience while she was in the asylum. She marveled at the radio that let you hear music and voices. He introduced her to television, which she found interesting, but less engaging than books.
Belle offered to help with the housework, the way she had in his castle. This led to a few lessons in the cleaning technologies of this world, from disinfectant sprays to the vacuum cleaner. He taught her how to use the kitchen appliances; instead of her serving his meals, as she had before, they cooked their meals together.
Rumpelstiltskin made a point of searching for books that Belle would enjoy. She had never read any of the stories or poetry of this world. In the evenings they read aloud together. Most of the time Belle read aloud, her gentle accent hushed with excitement. But sometimes she convinced Rumpelstiltskin to read to her in return.
"If you don't mind me asking," Rumpelstiltskin said one evening, "how did you develop such an interest in books?"
Belle smiled bemusedly and shrugged as though to say, Who knows? "I don't know how it started. But sometimes it felt like my way of escaping."
"Escaping what?"
"I once told you I wanted to see the world. I figured, if I couldn't see it, I could always imagine it. If my own life ever felt tedious, I'd find a book to entertain me."
The selection that night was a book of poems by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. Belle hesitated when she came upon one passage, but Rumpelstiltskin urged her, "Go on."
Her voice faltered a few times, when the words seemed to ring too true, but she carried on until she had finished the excerpt.
In Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours,
Faith and unfaith can ne'er be equal powers:
Unfaith in aught is want of faith in all.
It is the little rift within the lute,
That by and by will make the music mute,
And ever widening slowly silence all.
The little rift within the lover's lute,
Or little pitted speck in garner'd fruit,
That rotting inward slowly moulders all.
It is not worth the keeping: let it go;
But shall it? answer, darling, answer, no.
And trust me not at all or all in all.
As she finished, Belle glanced up at Rumpelstiltskin. His hands were resting over the gold ball of his cane. His gazed was fixed on the fire, a contemplative expression on his face.
"I've been meaning to ask you about something," he said after a moment of silence. Rumpelstiltskin looked at her. "Something did happen between you and Regina. Tell me what."
Belle sighed through her nose, remembering. "I was going into town, like you said. I was going to leave … but I also thought about going back. Anyway, the queen's carriage pulled up and she came out and walked with me for a while." Belle smiled bitterly.
"Let me guess," Rumpelstiltskin said. "She played the friendly stranger giving advice."
Belle nodded, and looked down at her hands. "She must have known, but she pretended to guess, about me—about us—and she guessed that I loved you." Belle was silent for a moment, remembering.
Rumpelstiltskin looked at her, waiting. "Well … what did you say to that?"
Belle's eyes flickered back up to look at him. "I said I could love you," she told him. "But I could tell there was something—dark about you. She said you were probably cursed, and that a kiss from a true love would break it."
"I see," Rumpelstiltskin murmured softly. He understood, now, that he had been wrong about Belle trying to deceive him; she had been ignorant of Regina's true motive, of wanting to rid the Dark One of his powers so she would be the more powerful one.
"And she captured you, after I sent you away?"
"Not right away. I thought about going back home … but, since I was finally out in the world, I figured I should take my time exploring it." She remembered stopping to get food in a tavern frequented by dwarves. She had recognized the symptoms of love in one of them, and tried to offer him advice. It had eased her conscience somewhat, to help someone find happiness in love, even if she couldn't.
"I did have an adventure. I helped tame a beast and lift a curse off of someone. Then I thought to go back to your castle."
"Regina's guards abducted me before I could make it back to my village."
Rumpelstiltskin nodded, his expression unreadable. Belle half-expected him to speak now, to tell her what it had been like for him after she left, but he wouldn't share his own feelings or experiences that easily. She often wondered whether she would ever get him to be open or honest with her. She did believe that love was a mystery to be uncovered, but there had to be a point when each person let the other uncover their own mystery.
"Hey." Belle came and sat next to Rumpelstiltskin. "Thank you, by the way. For letting me stay here."
"Well … you are new here. You needed a home." Rumpelstiltskin shrugged nonchalantly.
Belle smiled at him, with that look in her eyes that said she knew better. "I think you wanted me here," she teased.
Rumpelstiltskin's slight smile widened a bit. "Perhaps," he said; that was the closest he would come to admitting it.
They stayed up talking a little longer, until Belle glanced at the clock on the wall. "I think I'll turn in now," she said softly, standing up.
Rumpelstiltskin didn't protest. "Well, good night, Belle."
"Good night, Rumple." She paused, and then leaned over to kiss him on the forehead. Then she left the room and went up the stairs, to the guestroom that had never been used until she arrived.
Rumpelstiltskin stayed downstairs for a while after Belle retired. He should be using this time, when she was asleep, to spin straw into gold, to do the magic that he had been unable to practice for so long. But now he simply sat on the couch and stared pensively into the fire.
He still marveled at the fact that Belle loved him, even after all that he had done to her. He had stolen her freedom. He had rejected her. He had thrown her out. And just days ago, he had twisted his promise not to kill Regina.
Yet she had come back to him, three times now—twice knowing who he was and what he had done. Twice she chose him over her freedom.
He didn't understand it. But he was glad for it, nevertheless.
He wondered if they would be able to truly have a life together. He thought of Milah and Baelfire, and wondered vaguely about marriage and parenthood. He had already failed at both of those; as tempting as they sounded, when associated with Belle … he didn't think he could risk making that kind of commitment.
He wasn't good at loving people. He could love, but he wasn't very good at it.
He didn't think he could bear to love and lose someone again.
Rumpelstiltskin stood up slowly and went upstairs, trying to be quiet despite using his cane for support. He paused outside the door to Belle's room; then he gently pushed it open.
Belle was in the bed, lying on her side. She was beautiful, even when she was asleep.
All the time, she was strong and selfless, but also soft and vulnerable.
I was told you would protect me.
Yeah. I will.
It was the least he could do; it might have been the only thing he knew he could do for her.
For a long time, he had lived with the idea that if Regina's story was true, it was his fault that Belle had died. He was the one who had … disposed of her fiancé.
Now, knowing Belle was not only alive, but staying with him … it felt like fate was giving him a second chance. He knew that he couldn't mess it up this time.
Do I know you?
No. But you will.