A/N: Sorry for the shortness of the chapter today all. I am writing two of these, if you didn't know, so I've been trying to balance it all out. Forgive me!

OH! And you guys! Pictures of Belle in the flashbacks for the show on March 4! ACK! XD Here's the link - .com/2012/02/belle-is-dreamy-on-once-upon-a-time/

Chapter 7

~: Belle :~

It was tea time again. It had been three days since their argument, and two days since they had made up, and he had seemingly forgiven her. He'd even been kinder to her, teased her more often. She began to ask questions again, and ate by his side. He hadn't left on a deal since.

She was reading a new book that she had once loved, sitting on the pallet next to him, but the Greek Myth had lost her favor when Theseus merely assumed the Minotaur was only a monster, weaving his way through the labyrinth with the gold thread Ariadne had given him.

The minute he slayed the Minotaur, and relished it, she slammed the book shut.

"What is it, my dear?" he asked her, stopping his spinning.

"Nothing," she lied. He looked at her pointedly. He knew when she lied. He looked down at her book, reading the title.

"Something upset you?" he queried, and then his voice turned sarcastic, "Was the Minotaur too terrifying?"

She made a face at his mocking tone. "No, Theseus upset me."

"Theseus?" he was surprised, "But he's the hero of the story."

"Is he?" she wondered aloud, frowning. "I don't think so."

"He killed the monster," he spoke as though it explained everything, making claws out of his hands to match a sneering face.

"That doesn't make him a hero," she said irritably. How could he say that? Killing a monster just made him a murderer.

"It doesn't?" he turned away, as though he was disinterested, but his back went stiff, as it often did when he wasn't expecting what she had said. It didn't happen as often now. He was getting to know her better.

"No, it doesn't," she affirmed.

"It must be his handsome good looks then," he teased, flipping a lock of hair back from his forehead.

She rolled her eyes at him, before looking out of the window at the blooming spring day. "I'm going to go get tea ready," she said, standing up smoothly and dusting off her skirt. He nodded, and pretended that she didn't notice when his eyes searched for her as he stepped out.

She pressed her back to the door as it closed, breathing deeply. She was so confused with herself. It was all so new, and a bit alarming. She couldn't believe that she could possibly … but, could she? True, he was no knight, or a Prince Charming, but… could she possibly even?

No. She couldn't, because he would never care for her the same way. A pang of sorrow shot through her. He would never feel the same way that she did about him. Maybe he was fond of her, but he could never love-

She stopped herself short. Love. She bit her lip, catching at her mid drift. It was painful, and yet… she knew she loved him. But how could she stay, and fall more deeply in love with him, when he would never ever love her? He was trapped in darkness, showed by evil, but those clothes, those clothes for a little boy, did it prove that he had been a man once? That once he had not been dark? But… she found herself shaking. Could he ever be a man again? If the answer was no?

She felt her chin trembling.

No.

She had to be brave. And if that meant that she couldn't love him because the darkness in him could never be taken away, then so be it. She would try not to love him. She took a deep breath, and blinked away the tears that had been so threatening only seconds ago. She would get the tea. She would give him the tea. She would finally ask him about the clothes in the small bedroom. She would see if there was no love in his heart… And if there wasn't?

She felt her heart tremor at the thought.

What power only thinking the word love had over it. She wondered what it would be like to say it aloud. Her heart soared at that, thinking to herself, maybe…

~: Rumpelstiltskin :~

She had come in with the tray a few moments ago, and had filled two cups on the tray with tea. One was the chipped cup. He took it without thinking. She turned to face him, and walked towards the table.

"Why did you want me here?" she asked, perching on the table as she often did at tea time.

"The place was filthy," he said flippantly. He couldn't tell her the original reason, that he'd intended on using her for her first born. He couldn't image doing something like that to her now. He couldn't imagine marrying her off to some idiot Prince. He couldn't bear the thought of her having the idiot's child.

"I think you were lonely. I mean any man would be lonely," she said truthfully. He looked at her, searching her face. There was something there, as though she'd decided on something.

"But I'm not a man," he reminded her, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice. How he hated that about himself sometimes, a lot more often these days, but he settled down next to her comfortably, companionably.

"So I've had a couple of months to look around, you know," she started, as though this was something she had been thinking about, "and uh up stairs is uh clothing, small, as if for a child?" Ah, he should have known she would have discovered his son's things. "Was it yours or was there a son?"

He looked at her, not sure of himself, how to tell her that she had guessed correctly, sadness seeping into his soul as it always did when he spoke, or thought of his son. He would have run to the wheel, to spin, to forget but Belle was looking into his face, searching him for answers. "There was. There was a son," he found himself telling her. He often told her too much, found himself answering things that he never meant to answer, "I lost him. As I did his mother." He couldn't keep his tone checked this time. Pain was etched there.

"I'm- I'm sorry," her voice was full of concern. Yes he'd lost them, but not in the way she assumed. He couldn't tell her the whole truth. Not when it could ruin her image of him. The coward, Rumpelstiltskin. He bent his head. "So you were a man once, an ordinary man," she tried. He kept himself composed at this conclusion to her thoughts, and didn't say anything, but she queried further, "If I'm never going to know another person in my whole life can't I at least know you?"

She knew him so well already, but she wanted to learn his past. It was something he could not speak of. She would leave him. "Perhaps," he pretended to consider, putting down his tea cup, "Perhaps you just want to learn the monster's weaknesses? Neh, neh?" he pointed at her. "Neh, neh, neh." No she would not learn anything from him today. Not when he needed her good opinion. He would always need her good opinion…

"You're not a monster," she said with that pointed look in her beautiful eyes, "You think you're uglier than you are- that's why you cover up all the mirrors?" she thought she knew everything. She didn't need to know he kept the mirrors covered to keep out wicked witches that thought themselves queens. "Hmm?" she smiled when he didn't answer.

A knock came at the door.

It was not often people came to the actual door. There were often magical means sent to get his attention, signs and letters on the road, sometimes even carrier pigeons, but most were not brave enough to actually come and bang on his door so loudly.

Rumpelstiltskin looked over his shoulder, perturbed.

As he answered the door, the idiot knight that had been haunting the deep recesses of his mind, Sir Gaston, stood, pointing his sword at him. The idiot had pointed a sword at him before, if he recalled correctly, but he had smacked it away. Didn't the brainless creature learn that no ordinary steel could harm him?

Rumpelstiltskin rolled his eyes as the man began some speech he'd been planning to give during his little rescue mission, and decided that this was the last time the man would point a weapon at him. With a point of his finger and a swift grin, Gaston became no more. In his stead rested a delicate red rose.

He smiled at it, wondering if he should smash the bud. Something made him hesitate. What would Belle think of her ex betrothed as a present? His grin only widened. He could offer her so much more than a rose, but something vindictive caught at him. She had once been promised to this man. Had she feeling for him still?

It didn't matter either way. The idiot was gone now, out of his way forever.