A/N: Ever since first becoming a Rumbeller, I always wanted to write this scene. Especially since Beauty and the Beast is one of my favorite Disney movies. This one would have been up earlier...if I hadn't accidentally deleted half of the one-shot and had to write it over again. /= But here it is, and I hope everyone likes my version of it.

Something There

Belle had spent a little over a month at the Dark Castle.

Some days it seemed time was ripped from under her feet like a carpet while other days lasted an eternity. Her hands were hardening and becoming stronger due to the work she handled day in and out, but she never once complained. She wore the calluses with pride. After all, her purpose for being there was to save her kingdom, to be the hero she always dreamed of being.

As for her master, he had taken her by surprise. He was an enigma, a mystery she had not fully uncovered. Even so, he wasn't nearly as bad as she first assumed. The more time she spent in his castle, the more she wondered if the side of him she witnessed the night they crossed paths was nothing but a ruse, a mask he wore to hide his true face.

Seldom did he make conversation with her, always busying himself in some part of his castle, but he was not cruel. People might naturally jump to the conclusion that being a prisoner in his castle meant he would squander her virtue, deflower and defile her in the worst of ways. But he showed no interest in that sort of evil whatsoever. In fact, it seemed he was afraid to linger too long in the same room with her.

Maybe the rumors about Rumpelstiltskin were just that-rumors. Maybe he was lonely here in his castle and so he sought out a companion. Belle never found the opportune moment to ask.

Winter still cloaked the Dark Castle inside and out, the mountain blanketed with white powder that swirled in the wind. Belle had been granted a small sense of freedom-she was free to wander the grounds of the castle, but never allowed to pass the wrought iron gates. She liked to think that was a good sign, a sign of progress. That must mean he was beginning to trust her not to run away.

Not that she ever would. She made that clear on several accounts, but she didn't think he believed it.

Belle had gotten her chores done early and decided to celebrate her newfound freedom by taking a walk among the castle's gardens. She had the excitement of a child bouncing down the marble steps and gliding into the foyer. She donned her emerald cloak for the occasion, the pads of her fingers tracing the golden flowers woven within it.

The grounds of the Dark Castle were breathtaking in the winter. It was so still, so silent that it held an enchanting melody all its own when the wind whispered over the incline of the mountain. There was white everywhere she turned, soft and layered, and so startlingly bright that Belle had to shield her eyes until they adjusted properly.

A faint path circled the castle and she took her time in following it, the snow licking her heels and crusting the soles with glittering diamonds. It was a shame there were no flowers, not because the frost had prevented their growth, but because it was Rumpelstiltskin's belief that nature did not mingle with dark beings. According to him, no flower ever grew underneath his touch, even with magic. Belle suspected his heart had never been in it. The path would be lovely in the spring if there were flowers to line it up and down.

Roses would be nice.

Belle came to an open courtyard toward the back of the castle. There was a stone bench in the alcove between the castle's towers, the seat already occupied by a fine layer of white dust. A tall tree sprouted from the earth, its trunk crooked, with branches bare and clipped so as not to stretch over the castle's barrier.

The man truly had thought of everything concerning her imprisonment. Little did he realize Belle had no desire to scale the tree, even without the excuse of winter making the task difficult. It would be a nice spot to read, though, when the weather changed.

A flock of white doves caught her eye. Their pale feathers made them almost invisible against the wintry backdrop. They stalked through the snow, pecking the frozen earth every once in a while and ignoring the fact that the season was not welcoming for feathered creatures.

Belle frowned. The poor things must be hungry. What kind of person would she be if she carried on her way without sparing them a single crumb? They weren't likely to find decent food on this mountain.

Underneath the hood of her cloak, Belle's face lit up with the intensity of the summer sun. She retraced her steps carefully in hopes of not scaring away the birds before she accomplished her goal. Once she rounded the corner of the castle, she hurried back to the entrance with a plan in mind and a warm feeling spreading through her heart, chasing away the deathly chill.

She raced into the castle and immediately dashed across the floor toward the kitchen. The thrill seeped into her bones and it was too powerful to be contained. She didn't care to mask the sound of her steps. In the kitchen, which could easily fit two bedrooms for two greedy kings, she searched around for something the birds might like. She flung open drawers and cabinets to find an assortment of foods stacked inside, always replenished overnight by magic. There was a sack of seeds in one of the cupboards-she swung that down from its shelf. There was a whole loaf of fresh bread near the fireplace-she took that, too.

When she spun around to leave with her gifts tucked under her arms, she found Rumpelstiltskin striding into the kitchen. It occurred to her that he might not like the idea of her giving away his food to stray birds outside, but she was determined not to be swayed.

"Are you hosting a royal ball in here, dearie?" Belle tilted her head. She noted his sarcasm.

"Of course not, " she responded politely. He snorted.

"Funny. It sounded like it from my wheel," he snapped. Belle bowed her head in apology. Rumpel never liked being disturbed when he was spinning. It always put him in a bad mood. The irritability tranformed into suspicion when he spotted the sack of seeds and loaf of bread in her hands. "What are you doing?"

"Feeding the birds," she said resolutely. Not many things in the world surprised Rumpelstiltskin due to his three centuries of living, but that most certainly did.

"Feeding the...what?"

But she was already walking past him and heading for the entrance doors. She didn't hear his boots following in pursuit. Returning to the courtyard, she dropped the sack of seeds and loaf of bread at her feet. The doves were still there, bobbing their heads to a rhythm of their own making.

Taking a handful of seeds, she scattered them on the ground. The doves regarded the seeds and turned their heads as if daring a member of their group to try one. One took a seed in its beak and the others soon pecked the ground in the same manner. When those seeds were gone, Belle spread another handful.

A shadow slinked across the snow, but she did not turn to address its owner. There was only one person the shadow could belong to, anyway.

"The first thing you choose to do with your freedom...is feed a bunch of rats with wings? Are you so lonely here that you invite their company?" Belle was not offended by his inquiries. It was clear he was confused about her good intentions.

"They are not rats with wings. They are doves. I can't let them starve in the cold," she argued vehemently.

More seeds rained over the snow. Two birds were fighting over the same one. She poured more seeds into her palm, but Rumpel's golden hand closed over it. The physical contact mesmerized Belle. It was the first time he ever touched her without some initial contact on her part.

"It's nature's way, dearie. No matter how well-meaning the gesture, it's not proper to interfere. I'd say let it run its course," he advised softly. He encouraged her fingers to curl into her palm, her hand becoming a fist. He didn't let go. "Besides, if you keep feeding them, they'll never leave."

"What's wrong with that? What if you needed a dove to send a letter? What if there were no doves because you neglected to spare them food?" Rumpel's face grew long and, just for an instant, she peered into his soul. Her theory about his loneliness strengthened. There was such despair in his eyes, Belle could barely glance into those amber orbs.

"Trust me, Belle, I have no one worth sending letters to. I have no one who'd be happy to receive them," he said quietly, almost imperceptibly. His hand tightened over her hand, his mind fading into the distance where she could not follow. She gasped. A look of shame crossed his face and he released her, lowering his eyes to the snow.

She rubbed her hand, but hardly felt anything beyond the cold. It was her heart that ached for him. Did he truly have no one in this world? No one to long for him or miss his presence? He wasn't the monster he convinced the world he was.

"Come here," she said, beckoning him closer. His head shot up, eyebrows cocked and lips slightly parted in awe. He looked almost childish due to his amazement.

"You're giving the master of this castle an order?" If it was meant to be harsh, a way of putting her in her place, then it failed miserably. There was a teasing note accompanying his seductive accent. She smiled proudly.

"Yes, I am. Come. Here," she demanded more sternly, pointing to the spot directly in front of her. Rumpel hung back for a moment, his fingers wriggling in the air while he debated what to do. His boots plowed through the snow as he went to stand at her side. "Now, hold out your hand."

"Why?" Rumpel tucked his arms out of reach, as though afraid she might cut them off completely. She lightly touched his shoulder, which served to loosen him up a bit.

"Exercising a little trust won't kill you," she told him, peering up at him past his curtain of wavy hair. He scrunched his nose.

"You don't know that for sure," he begged to differ.

She gave him a serious look and he finally folded. He hesitantly held out his hand, palm-up. Belle's hand blossomed, revealing the mound of seeds. She poured the seeds into his hand, his fingers molding into a cup, and instructed him to crouch low to the ground. Hopefully, it wasn't too much of a strain for him in those skin-tight leather pants.

He began to get the idea of what she wanted him to do. His muscles tensed, his body freezing up more solidly than the stone that sheltered his head every night.

"They won't come to me," he warned, trying to take back his hand. Belle gently laid her fingers on his inner wrist and directed his hand toward the birds. His breathing hitched until he sounded like a woman going into labor.

"They will come to you. Be still, be silent, and you'll see. It's all a matter of trust," she said in hushed tones. He shook his head negatively, even as one of the birds turned its head in his direction.

"No, they know what I am." Belle boldly met his eyes. Her thumb traced over the surprisingly warm skin of his wrist.

"So do I," she pointed out. No person had ever been allowed to glimpse inside Rumpelstiltskin's world before. She found it wasn't so hard to adapt. "I'm not running, am I?"

"Well, you're..." He trailed off. Belle arched her eyebrows. What word would he select? Odd? Strange? "Different." Belle took it as a compliment. She thought she may have even blushed under the hood of her cloak. "I'm telling you, Belle. This is a waste of time. These creatures will not come to me for nourishment."

He tried to scuffle backwards in the snow, but Belle's arm wrapped around his waist to hold him steady. Paralyzed by her tender touch, he rocked on his heels, his hands hovering in the air and presenting the seeds in offering.

"They will. Have faith," she pleaded. If anything, he needed to be taught that he was not the monster whose mask he wore. He needed to learn that he was not as ugly, as hopeless, or as dangerous as he seemed to believe.

One bird was daring enough to hop a step toward Rumpelstiltskin, its wings rustling. When it spotted the seeds, it hesitated only a moment before poking its head into Rumpel's hands. He was a statue, his hands stitched together in a golden cup. Belle let him be, rising to her feet and smiling at the sight that unfolded. A second bird approached to join the first, then a third followed suit. Their sleek beaks wrestled for the seeds.

When the birds had consumed the seeds, Belle sprinkled more into his hands. The birds were increasingly trusting of Rumpelstiltskin, no longer hesitating to grab their reward. They longed for nourishment and Rumpel stayed still the entire time so as not to scare them off. From the perplexed expression on his face, Belle supposed he might be the one afraid of the birds.

One bird plucked up the courage to hop right into the cradle of Rumpel's hands. It startled him enough to make him plop on his butt in the snow. The bird didn't care-it went right on pecking the seeds.

Other birds floated down from the trees surrounding the walls of the castle. One of them, with feathers red as blood, landed on Rumpel's shoulder, chirping loudly and vastly enough to make Belle think it was telling him a wild tale. A white dove perched on his other shoulder and it, too, began to chirp, vying for his attention. A blue bird proved to be the bravest of all, nestling among the strands of Rumpel's wavy hair atop his head.

It was a marvelous sight to behold. Belle couldn't help but laugh. She looked on from afar, unwilling to break the spell of the birds.

"What am I? A tree?" Rumpel shivered violently, shaking off the birds. They took flight, their wings fluttering in the wind, but they settled back on Rumpel's body once he stopped moving again. Eventually he got tired of being the birds' resting post. He jumped to his feet, rubbing his palms together to brush away the remaining specks of seeds.

Something wet and frozen smashed into the back of his head, sliding down his neck. He reached up to remove it and realized he'd been hit with snow. He turned to see Belle smiling innocently. Too innocently.

"Ah, so that is the game you wish to play? You'll regret it." He bent to scoop up a handful of snow, packing it together into a perfect sphere. He was the master of the castle; he couldn't allow his maid to go unpunished for such rash behavior, could he? Belle showed no fear. He relished her squeal of excitement when the snowball impacted her shoulder. That one was a generous throw.

She hurried to arm herself with more snow, but Rumpel was faster. He formed another ball and tossed it, hitting her luscious behind. Belle launched her own ball of snow and it hit him square in the face, making him drop his latest round of ammunition.

Belle covered her mouth in surprise and slight apology as Rumpel wiped the melting frost off his nose and chin. She'd been aiming for his chest, but her throw had been a little too high and a little too hard.

"Rumpel, I am so sorry. I didn't mean-"

She took a step forward, blinked, and he was gone. Vanished into thin air via magic. Her heart grew heavy with guilt. They had been having such a good time together. Had she ruined it? Forced him to retreat into the gloom of his library to spin away the anger?

She sighed morosely and turned to collect the food-

-and walked straight into his trap. Snow covered her swanlike throat and chest. Some of it delved underneath her cloak and tunneled between her breasts. He giggled maniacally, clutching his sides.

"That is cheating," she exclaimed. She pointed her finger in accusation, but he ignored it, instead swiftly packing another snowball. She ducked behind the tree for cover. The frosted leaves trembled and rained crystal snowflakes over her head.

Her cheeks were flushed, her heart was pounding, there was snow melting in her hair, and she was starting to come down with a terrible case of the chills...but she would not rather be anywhere else. She hadn't laughed like that in a long time and never had she witnessed Rumpel smile so readily in her presence.

When the snowfight was officially over, with Rumpel declared the winner, he magically poofed the loaf of bread and seeds into the castle. As he walked with her along the path back to the castle's doors, he offered to whip up two cups of tea and asked if she would care to share his company in front of the fire that evening. She told him she would like that very much.

There was definitely something there that hadn't been before.

...

Ever since becoming the Dark One, Rumpel did not need sleep as a normal human being would. Nor did he dream too often. But when he dreamt that night, he only dreamt of white snow and red roses.