Disclaimer: As you can probably tell from the fact I'm writing fanfiction, I don't own Once Upon a Time or any of its characters.

"Do you even know all of these people?" Mr. Gold wondered out loud. Belle had been in the hospital for three days recuperating as they waited to see how Mr. French reacted. Thankfully, her sacrifice wasn't in vain, and his body accepted the transfer.

It was impossible to get to her bed without pushing a bouquet of flowers or stuffed animal aside, the small space that was claimed as hers crammed with sentiment. Things had to be piled on top of each other, and still it threatened to spill over into the next patient's area. It seemed the tragedy was good business for "Game of Thorns" at least, and Mr. Gold felt a little vindicated that Moe only had a couple of cards on his nightstand.

Belle grinned up at him from her spot on the bed, which was highly populated by little cuddly toys, "Of course I do. I'm the one who builds the bridges before you burn them down, remember?"

"Still…" He wondered how the hell he was going to fit all of this in the car…maybe he should've brought the truck.

He wasn't sure Belle really cared about the flowers or toys; she had been ecstatic just changing out of her hospital gown. That smile alone made her pair of sweatpants and old baggy t-shirt look as beautiful as the dress he had first seen her in.

"I think I'll have to make more than one trip," he decided, "Flora first, then assorted plushies."

"No, wife first," she pouted, "I'm sick of this place; I want to go home."

"But don't you want to return to a room filled with dying and cheesy mementos of your acquaintanceships?"

Belle scowled, "I want to come home to a husband who doesn't feel the need to poke at me every second of the day."

"That sounds very boring," Mr. Gold complained.

They were informed a short time later that everything was in order for them to leave. Had Belle been her usual self she would've bounced to her feet and started skipping for the door. Alas, she would not be doing any skipping or bouncing for a bit, and the idea of her fragile state saddened him.

He was gathering up her books into a bag when he felt her hand slide into his, Belle tentatively getting to her feet. It probably wasn't a smart idea for a cripple to be used for support, but the thought of Belle relying on him filled him with a sense of duty and purpose. He would keep her steady even if he had to fall in the process.

He led her all the way down to the lobby, until Belle spotted an old friend heading towards them.

"Graham!" She greeted cheerfully. He smiled.

"Hello, Rose. How are you feeling?"

"Pretty good, but that might change when the painkiller wears off," she joked.

Mr. Gold had never been completely comfortable with Belle's fondness for the Huntsman; even if he was imprisoned he still belonged to Regina. It wasn't likely that the Huntsman would turn on his friend…but he couldn't be too careful when it came to Belle.

"I heard you two might need some help," he said, "Especially with that mob out there."

Rumplestiltskin was all too familiar with mobs. He had quieted them and caused them; sometimes he was even the target. They were loud crowds of chaos, senseless and bloodthirsty. He did not relish facing one here, with both of them so weak.

He forgot that sometimes a mob was just a poorly chosen synonym for "large cheering crowd".

They were bombarded with applause when they emerged from the hospital, people cheering and waving signs towards them. Mr. Gold's first instinct was to shield Belle and he positioned himself slightly in front of her. This looked ridiculous as he started to read the signs; "THANK YOU ROSE", "GET WELL SOON ROSE", "YOUR OUR HERO MRS. GOLD" (he hoped that last one wasn't a student of Miss Blanchard's). He saw Ruby, Henry, Mary Margaret, Kathryn… Practically the whole town. No longer worried for her but still intimidated, he shrank back, letting her soak in her moment.

She held on to his hand, clutching it as though afraid he'd leave. She looked back at him and he almost sensed panic.

"Don't worry, Rose. I already warned them to leave you be," Graham said light-heartedly, resting a hand on her shoulder. He glanced at Mr. Gold, "Why don't I take her home and you can gather her things?"

Why don't I just knee you in the groin and beat you senseless for that stupid suggestion, the Rumplestiltskin part of his mind jeered. Instead of giving in to that instinct, Mr. Gold gave a half-hearted smile.

"Of course," he leaned in to kiss her cheek, "I'll see you in a bit, dearie." Belle bit her lip and he started back towards the hospital.

She didn't let go when he did, lingering for a moment before surrendering. That small gesture was more comforting than any words she could have said right then.

Belle hated being the center of attention. She loved being social, and she should be used to people staring at her… But whenever she was the focus, it felt like she was suddenly covered with the chicken pox. This sudden over-the-top positive attention threw her off.

"You don't have to sit in the back. I'm not arresting you," Graham insisted as they approached his police car. Belle laughed, embarrassed, before moving away from the back and opening the passenger's door.

She waved goodbye to the crowd, still not sure how to react. A few weeks ago they had been villains…

"It's not that big of a deal," she muttered under her breath as he slid in.

"You saved a life. That is a big deal."

"He's my father-"

"Whom you haven't spoken to in years."

"Is this town really so small that nothing's private?" She rested her head back, "I suppose news travels fast."

"Not as fast as The Daily Mirror."

Graham grabbed something off the dash and passed it to her. Belle glanced down and saw a black-and-white picture of herself beaming at the camera, a bold headline above it.

" "Thicker Than Blood: Beloved Businesswoman Donates Kidney To Estranged Father"," she read out loud. She shot Graham a disbelieving look. Who deemed this front page news?

She glanced at the by-line.

"…I'm going to kill Sidney," she growled.

"You'd be surprised how often I hear that…mostly from Regina," he admitted, shaking his head, "You probably shouldn't read the article, then; it has Sidney's classic exaggeration. Good news is that he painted you as some sinless maiden without a flaw."

Belle guffawed, "Oh that's me alright." She rolled her eyes, not completely surprised by Sidney's interpretation. He had always seemed to see her as a damsel in distress, angelic and holy. First impressions, she supposed, were everything.

Belle expected them to turn left onto their street. Instead, Graham kept going straight, frowning.

"Rose… We're close friends, aren't we?" He asked. Belle cocked her head to the side.

"I thought we were, why?" Perhaps this was less of a favor to them and more of a temporary kidnapping…

Graham sighed, raking his fingers through his hair, "So you won't call me crazy, even if what I say does sound crazy?"

"I've dealt with my fair share of crazy things; I doubt you can top them."

Graham took in a deep breath, "I'm starting to…see things. Like, flashbacks, but they don't make any sense because they're things that haven't happened to me. Like they're from another life."

Belle's heart stopped as she held her breath. She forced her body to start working again.

"When did they start?"

Graham winced, "…when I kissed Emma."

"You kissed Emma?"

"It was an impulse," he rubbed at his eyes, "She's so upset about me and Regina… It wound me up and I just…" He waved his hand.

"Went for it," Belle finished.

"Regina would kill me if she found out."

Belle pursed her lips, "That does sound like a rock and a hard place situation…if it continues to escalate." As happy as Belle was about the prospects of Emma and Graham (so cute!), she couldn't quite approve of him cheating, prisoner or not.

Graham sighed.

"I don't feel anything, Rose. Not happiness, not sadness, not even anger…when I express them it's just an act."

Belle stared out the window, biting her cheek until she tasted copper. She had so many emotions and feelings…she was sure she could share some of her heart with him and still have enough for herself.

"What do you see in those flashbacks?" She murmured.

"Woods, mostly, or a wolf. Sometimes Mary Margaret with long hair. They come and go so fast I can't focus on any of them. I don't know what any of it means."

Graham was circling through the neighborhoods now, rounding back towards their street. He couldn't sit still, as though the mystery made him restless, uncomfortable.

"…you're not crazy, Graham," Belle murmured, "No matter what happens or what anyone says, you're not crazy."

She said it with such self-assurance… Did Rose know something? How would he ask her what she meant without accusing her of being in on whatever was going on? He was starting to sound paranoid…

He pulled into the driveway and Belle frowned when she failed to see the Cadillac. She was hoping she wouldn't have to wait for him… She had barely unbuckled when her door sprang open, Graham grinning like a maniac at her.

"Wait, what are you doing? Graham…Graham!" She squealed as the sheriff scooped her up and started to carry her bridal-style towards the front door, "Put me down! I mean it, Graham!"

"You need to eat more, you barely weigh anything," he protested. Belle squirmed as he went up the front porch steps, testing the lock, "Where's your spare key?"

"In the mailbox."

"You're kidding me…" He groaned, swinging around and starting back down the sidewalk.

By the time Graham managed to obtain the key while balancing a wriggling Belle, Mr. Gold had pulled up. She caught sight of his face before he masked it; shame and self-loathing. This was the way he had once held her, carrying her when she was too weak. She tried even harder to get down.

"Alright, sir, where shall I put her?" Graham called to him as he got out of the car. Mr. Gold gestured towards the front door.

"There's a guest room at the end of the hall, to the right."

Belle frowned, "I've been demoted to the guest room?"

"It'll be easier if we take the stairs out of the equation, dearie," he insisted. Belle sulked as Mr. Gold opened the door for Graham and he carried her through the house, following his instructions.

Her objections ended when she saw what he had added to the side tables in the guest room. The shelves underneath the tops on either side were filled; the left side table were all her favorite comfort books, and the right side table were a physical portion of her wish list.

"Oh Gold…" She murmured as Graham set her down gently.

"It's your fault," Mr. Gold said defensively, "You didn't sign out of your Barnes & Noble account."

There was a sharp "mrawr" before the patter of paws, then Figaro jumped up onto the bed.

"Oh Figgy, I missed you!" She exclaimed, scratching his ears.

"You got a cat?" Graham asked, staring in disbelief.

"It's Belle's," Mr. Gold insisted. His body trembled from his purring, and Belle kissed his nose, "Well thank you, Sheriff."

"Of course. Call if you need anything," Graham said, looking at Belle.

A knowing glance passed between them before Graham saw himself out.

Mr. Gold arched an inquiring eyebrow at Belle, "What was that about?"

Belle sighed, pulling Figaro up onto her chest, "Just Emma being Emma." She patted the spot beside her. Mr. Gold obediently lay down beside her and she rested her head on his shoulder, "…The Huntsman's starting to remember," she confessed.

"Did you tell him anything?"

She shook her head, "It's too soon. He seems open to the truth, though."

Mr. Gold turned his head to her. She looked up at him.

"You must tread very carefully around him, Belle; don't help him remember. Regina still has his heart, and we don't know if he'll come to as a friend or foe."

"It's not like he wants to be with the Evil Queen," she mumbled defensively.

"I know, but everything's a liability until Emma accepts her destiny. We are walking a very fine line, doing but not doing, helping only when it's convenient for us." Belle groaned and Mr. Gold smirked, "They have their goals, we have ours."

"I know. I just wished they overlapped more," she muttered, "I'd like to help with the fall of the wicked witch."

"We will, just…very very subtly." Belle rolled her eyes and snuggled closer to him.

All she wanted right now was this bed, her husband, and her cat. The Grand Scheme could wait just a little bit longer.

III

The Evil Queen's gardens seemed vastly less intimidating to Belle, now that she had spent so much time in them. She might have even dared to call them beautiful.

Usually her visits with the Huntsman were when their masters had to convene for one plot or another and, like children when their parents were busy doing grown-up things, they spent their idle time together. She loved to hear his stories, about how he was raised by wolves in the forest and how he survived. The Huntsman had become quite talkative with her and, when Regina came to collect him, she sensed the other woman's resentment. Perhaps if she had tried to earn his affections instead of stealing them, he would talk to her openly as well.

The Huntsman stood under the apple tree, turning to her as she approached. She smiled at him.

"I believe this is the first time you've ever called on me," she teased. The Huntsman's forehead creased.

"I've never needed your help before either."

Belle got the sense that this wasn't just a social visit.

Her face flattened as she put on her business persona, "What's wrong?"

The Huntsman turned to her, eyes haunted, "It's my brothers. They're being blamed for crimes they didn't commit."

Belle frowned, "I thought the Queen outlawed the hunting of wolves; they should be safe."

"I have a feeling it's not one of her stricter rulings," The Huntsman reached out and held onto her forearms, squeezing them emphatically, "I need to know that they're safe."

"Well what are they being accused of?"

The Huntsman let his hands drop to his sides, shaking his head, "There have been murders in the countryside, animal herders found with their throats ripped out," he clenched his jaw, "My brothers would not do this; they kill only what they need to survive, and know better than to attack humans. Humans are ruthless in their vengeance."

Belle drew in a long breath, "I will help you…" She trailed off.

"For a price," he finished. She bit her lip guiltily and he smirked, "You think I wasn't prepared to play his way?" He stared at her, "I will pay anything that is mine to give to save my brothers."

Belle nodded, the deal struck.

"I'll be on my way, then."

III

Belle was bored, or lonely, or restless, she couldn't really figure out which one. But there was an itch that needed scratching and she was trying to figure out how.

The pain in her lower torso was ebbing, which meant less pain medication, which meant less napping to occupy the time alone. She was in that irritating state where she wasn't completely recovered, nor was she flat on her back. With Mr. Gold at work and no one scheduled to check up on her for an hour (yes, that control freak had penciled visitors in on a schedule to see her), she wandered aimlessly, doing light housework or amusing herself with various things.

She was "busy" watching a fly beat itself senseless trying to get inside when there was a knock at the back door. Her first instinct was to run for the bed and insist she had been there all day like a good little girl…but Mr. Gold wouldn't knock. She went to the sliding glass door and found a shifty-eyed boy standing on the other side.

He brightened when she opened the door, "Are we alone?" He asked urgently.

Belle blinked, "We are, why?"

"Good," he brushed past her, "Then we don't have to use code."

He tossed his backpack onto the table and opened it up, pulling out the book.

"I wanted to cheer you up, so I came to read your story to you."

Belle beamed, "That's so sweet of you, Henry," she motioned towards the living room, "I'll be right there." Henry went to go make himself as comfortable as he could be in the lair of the Beast.

She returned with a blanket and a tray, setting it down on the table. Henry's eyes lit up hopefully.

"Are those-"

"Granny's Famous Chocolate Chip Cookies? She brought them over this morning," Belle poured herself a glass of milk, grabbed a cookie, tucked herself under the blanket and snuggled into the couch.

Henry took a cookie, careful not to get anything on the book.

"So we have the book…and no one knows about this meeting…" Belle began. Henry wrinkled his nose and shook his head.

"You're still not a part of Operation Cobra."

"What?! But, but-"

"You could be a secret agent!" He insisted, "Rumplestiltskin is known for his tricks."

"But I'm Belle," she whined, "I gave up my freedom to save my homeland… That has to count for something, right?"

"You're still married to the Dark One!" Henry exclaimed. Belle huffed, narrowing her eyes.

"Maybe I should take my cookies back…"

She had to admire the kid; he only wavered slightly as she threatened to revoke the best baked goods in all of Storybrooke. He cleared his throat and opened the book.

"There once was a girl with eyes like the sky and hair like brown silk. She was so beautiful that even her name meant "beauty", and her name was Belle…"

III

"We cannot be faint of heart now!" Fenris bellowed from his stage in the town square, "We cannot be fearful when our wives and children are in danger! What is time in prison compared to the safety of our loved ones?!"

A red hood moved through the crowd, apologizing softly as she moved closer to the platform. The color was odd in the sea of peasant brown, but it was just as shabby as their own. Perhaps the girl had used lamb's blood to make the wool cloak appear more impressive than it was.

"These wolves are a menace, and will destroy everything we hold dear if we don't do something! Even a pack of wolves is no match for a hunting party!"

The girl snorted derisively.

Fenris paused in his ramblings, glancing down, "You think this is funny, little girl?" He hissed.

The cloaked figure shrugged, "Depends on what you're referring to. Do I think your delusion that men can beat wolves so easily is humorous? A little. But I'm mostly laughing at your continued insistence that these are ordinary wolves you're hunting."

His eyes narrowed, "Brave words for a girl hiding beneath a hood."

She reached up and lowered her hood, surprised by the lack of recognition from the crowd. So this really was a small isolated village…

Fenris studied her for a long moment and she stared back, unflinching, "I know everyone in my town, and yet I've never seen you around. What's your name, stranger?"

"I go by a lot of names," Belle told him, "But I prefer to keep my anonymity this time. I don't want my titles getting in the way of this investigation."

"Fine then, stranger," he leaned forward, "What do you think you know about our problems?"

She shook her head, "Not a lot yet, but enough to know that ordinary wolves aren't to blame," she glanced at the man's boots, "True predators would never leave perfectly good meat behind, and wild animals are shy of humans for the most part."

"So what are you suggesting?" Fenris growled.

"That you have a wolf in human clothing hidden in plain sight. Where I come from they're known as the loup-garoux. Shapeshifters."

"Werewolves?" He said incredulously. Belle nodded. "Everyone knows that they're bedtime stories, nothing but myths."

"Believe me, I was just as skeptical as you for nearly all my life," he said, her voice dropping into a murmur, "But then one attacked me, and when you come toe-to-claw with one there is no longer any doubt in your mind what you're dealing with."

Belle turned to face the crowd, "The seven goat farmers that were killed last month died over the course of three days. And what moon was out during those nights?"

"The full one," A woman murmured.

"And what moon will tonight be?"

"A full one," A few other villagers murmured. Belle nodded, turning back to Fenris.

"Allow me free reign of your town and I promise you that your "wolf" problem will be solved by dawn," she glared at him, "No more lives need to be sacrificed."

Fenris smirked, "Alright…if you want adventure little girl, you can have it," he sneered.

Belle put her hood back up, "I'll expect a reward when I finish the deed," she warned.

III

"…the Beast looked upon the Evil Queen and his heart filled with rage at what she had done to him and his beloved. He fetched the iron fire poker from her hearth and advanced, the Evil Queen immobilized by his magic," Henry gripped the book so tight Belle feared he would bend the hardcover, "With the last of her strength Belle threw herself at the Beast, standing between him and the Evil Queen. She screamed his name and begged for him not to kill the Queen, to not stoop to her level. As always the Beast could not deny his Beauty and with a threat that if she ever dare touch Belle again he would destroy her, they left the palace."

Henry turned the page, "Too weak to stand on her own, the Beast gathered Belle up into his arms, holding her as close to him as he could. He walked home that night, and as he walked he told her every secret of his heart, finally allowing her to know him completely."

He closed the book and stared at Belle contemplatively, "…you saved my mom's life."

Belle sighed.

"There are times I almost regret it…"

"Why did you do it? I mean, she tricked you into making your true love doubt you, kidnapped you and beat you to try and make you take away his power."

Belle closed her eyes, "Henry, here's a bit of wisdom for you; fairy tales should be taken at face value. They're too short and simple to explain their characters; you have no idea why your mother did the things she did," she shrugged, "If she wrote the story then I would be the villain, refusing to help her defeat the Dark One."

Henry chewed over her words for a minute.

"I guess you're right… I still like you being the good guy though."

Belle smiled and bowed her head, "Well thank you. I like being the good guy, if I can help it."

Henry set the book aside, helping himself to another cookie, "So how long was it between this and the curse starting?"

Belle pursed her lips thoughtfully, "A few years, I guess."

"So your story with the Beast didn't end there."

"Oh no. In a lot of ways that's where the next chapter of our story started."

Henry looked at her with a sort of reverence, "You must have so many stories, living with Rumplestiltskin and all."

Belle laughed, "I could fill a library."

"Will you tell me some, please?" He begged. Belle sighed.

"I'm a lot better at reading stories than telling them," she murmured, "Rumplestiltskin's pretty good at storytelling, though."

Henry grimaced, "I'd rather you tell them." Belle giggled.

"Alright," she conceded, "I'll start with how I gained magic."

Henry's eyes widened, "You could do magic?"

Belle smirked, "Only a little. I couldn't throw fireballs or spin straw into gold or anything. More…practical things, like teleporting or changing my clothes," she wrinkled her nose, "I left the more elaborate things to true magic-wielders, like your mother or Maleficent. Magic is for those who want power… I never sought it out."

"Is that why so few good guys have magic?"

Belle considered it.

"You know, I have no idea why good guys don't have magic… Power corrupts, I suppose."

Henry glanced up and froze like a deer in the headlights. Belle twisted around, only to see that they had been caught.

Sheriff Graham stood in the doorway, staring at Belle. She had lost track of time, forgotten it was his turn to check in on her…really, forgotten everything except for her short career in magic and Henry.

"Hey Graham," Belle smiled nonchalantly, "Tell Madame Mayor not to worry; I didn't steal her son. Henry and I were just talking…"

"About magic." His voice quivered, "As though you had experience with it. As though it was real."

"Don't be ridiculous," Belle laughed nervously, "We were just discussing his book."

Graham was starting to bear a resemblance to Jefferson, that same frustrated expression at being on the brink of something he could not reach.

"You know something, Rose," he said slowly. Belle squirmed.

"She's a believer in the curse," Henry blurted out, "That's it."

Graham turned to Henry, "The curse?"

"The one where we're all fairy tale characters from that book," Belle murmured absently.

"And me, am I in that book?" He asked.

"Probably," Henry said. Graham went to kneel by him as he opened the book again, "You're friends with Snow White and the Evil Queen… You're good at tracking people, and you like the woods…"

"There's a wolf," Graham added, "One eye blood red and the other black as night."

Henry thumbed through the pages, "Snow White's a main character, though. She's met lots of people…"

"He's the Huntsman," Belle murmured. Henry's eyes widened.

"You're right!" He flipped rapidly until he came to a picture, "The Huntsman was raised by wolves until the Evil Queen found him and had him kill Snow White," he told the sheriff.

"Snow White…" Graham turned his head, staring at the picture, "…Mary Margaret with long hair…"

"You saved her life," Henry informed him, turning the page, "If it wasn't for you Emma wouldn't be alive…and I guess neither would I."

"What is that?" Graham pointed. Belle squinted and sat up straighter, trying to make out what they were looking at.

"The Evil Queen's vault," Henry said matter-of-factly, "It's where she keeps all her hearts," he frowned sympathetically, "She has yours, because you let Snow White live…"

Graham laughed, grinning at Belle, "That's why I can't feel anything… I don't have a heart!"

"Graham…" she murmured. He got to his feet.

"I have to find the vault… I have to get my heart back…"

"Graham, just slow down a minute," Belle murmured. He paused, looking at her warily. She shook her head, "If you're believing this-"

"You believe it too," he said defensively.

"If you're going to believe this," Belle continued, "Then you have to be careful," she warned.

Henry stood up, clutching the book to his chest, "She's right. The Evil Queen doesn't want anyone to know the truth… Hence Operation Cobra."

"I will be careful," Graham assured them, leaning down to kiss Belle's forehead, "And you're not off the hook just yet."

Belle watched as Graham left, helpless to give a good reason why he should settle down without incriminating herself. She felt as though the gears in some clockwork were turning and she had no way to stop what was in motion.

III

Belle was perched on a rooftop a good distance from the schoolhouse, a red brick building on the outskirts of the town. A longbow rested on her knees, a silver-tipped arrow already knocked. She was grateful for the wind; it was keeping her scent upwind. After a day wandering around and eavesdropping on gossip, Belle had most of the story's pages in place.

Sieve was the daughter of a swine herder who had married Thorn, a young man she loved with all her heart. Their sod house had been torn to shreds the day before yesterday but both had managed to escape, taking shelter in his parents' log cabin the next night. Under the wolves' claws it had been torn to splinters, so now the young couple were holed up where Sieve's sister taught, praying the red and stone would keep the wolf away. Not likely.

After a visit with an old beggar woman (always the best source for useful information, in Belle's humble opinion), she learned that Sieve had been betrothed to the mayor to pay off her parent's debts. With both parents deceased and little to lose, Sieve broke it off with Fenris and married Thorn. The goat herders had also owed the mayor money, coincidentally.

The bootprints found in line with the wolf's tracks were roughly Fenris's size, and it would explain why he wanted to blame normal wolves; a scapegoat for his crimes. All those murder mysteries were finally coming in handy.

She glanced up as she saw a shape move, crouched low to the ground and approaching the schoolhouse. Belle made sure it was the werewolf before raising her bow and drawing back the string. Anything she had to project in order to hit was a combative weakness of hers, but she was positive she didn't want to get up close and personal with a werewolf ever again.

She released the arrow, and realized too late she hadn't accounted for the wind. The arrow dug into the ground at his paws. He whipped his head around, spotted Belle, and charged.

She pulled another arrow from her quiver, but he was moving too fast now for her to take aim. She rolled away as he jumped up onto the roof, tumbling down into a haystack. A moment after she had burrowed into it, claws started raking through the hay, searching for her. She swam through the mass and ran out the other side, reaching for another arrow. Her stomach dropped as she felt empty air, realizing she had lost her quiver in the stack.

The wolf sensed the loss of heat and whipped around to face her. Trying to hit him with the bow would be stupid; she needed silver. She reached into her boot as the wolf lunged, pulling out the dagger hidden there. It dove towards her and she slashed at its cheek.

The beast howled in pain, reeling from the surprise effectiveness of her weapon. She charged again and got its shoulder, then its flank. She rose the blade for the killing blow, and then saw his eyes.

Agony, pure unbridled agony of a man in the throes of lost control. Helpless to stop the monster from coming out, at the mercy of his other side. A prisoner of himself.

That night Rumplestiltskin threw her into the dungeon, believing she was Regina's spy.

Belle could not kill Fenris. She knew it even as he pounced on top of her, about to tear her throat out with his fangs.

Belle drew upon her mark and, with a gargantuan effort, siphoned magic through it and shoved the werewolf. Her arm throbbed as she collapsed back and when she looked up, Fenris was gone.

III

Had there been anyone in Gold's Pawnbroker, they might've been surprised and embarrassed to see Mr. Gold hobbling around shouting "CAT! CA-A-AT!". But no one was there, and so he looked foolish for no one.

Belle was going to kill him. Hopefully quickly, but definitely with a good yelling-at first. Stupid cat, hiding and shit… There was a soft mewl at the side door and Mr. Gold remembered he had let it out for its evening piss. Belle hated it when he did this ("He'll get hit by a car, or a hawk will eat him"…if that happened it was probably for the best, so the dumbass cat couldn't spawn more dumbass kittens), but he preferred his home and office to not smell like someone had just taken a dump.

He opened the door and the cat trotted in, dropping a sparrow at his feet. An offering to the gods who gave him a roof over his head, food in his dish, and a nice warm crotch to sleep in.

"It's about time you started pulling your weight around here," Mr. Gold grumbled, picking up the dead sparrow. The cat rubbed up against his leg, then bounded off to pounce dust particles.

A siren pierced Mr. Gold's thoughts and he glanced out the window just as an ambulance passed by. He set the sparrow down on the counter and made his way to the front.

It was heading towards the sheriff's station.

"Guard the shop, cat. I'll be right back," he said. The kitten flicked its tail in acknowledgement, watching Mr. Gold leave.

A hollow feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as he approached. The lights still flashed, but there was little hurry amongst the paramedics. Their fearless savior was off to one side, trying to hold back her sobs long enough to answer the medic's questions. A stretcher was being rolled out of the station, a white sheet over a body. He didn't need to see a face to know who it was underneath.

Mr. Gold closed his eyes and sent up an old prayer that the Huntsman's soul would not get lost on its way to paradise, nor hesitate at the cries of those left behind, but that it would find peace after all his suffering.

He knew what had happened, and who had done it, but not why. Was she jealous of Emma stealing his affections? Had he remembered and turned on her, or was she really so heartless she'd kill her own lover just for knowing? Maybe, in her own twisted way, she had tried to set him free.

There was more crying as the news spread amongst the by-standers and though he too was an on-looker, he was alone in the crowd. How the hell was he going to break this to Belle?

"What are you thinking so hard about, Rumple?" Mr. Gold ignored the shortened version of his true name, figuring Her Highness was testing him.

Her voice came closer with each high-heeled click and word, "Are you thinking about your little Belle, lying helpless in her bed, weak from her good deed?"

Her lips suddenly brushed his ear, "Game over, Rumplestiltskin; I know you two remember. She's not nearly as good at the game as we are," she pulled away, upper lip twitching in disgust, "You did a half-ass job in training her."

Belle was neither his apprentice nor his prodigy; she was his wife who needed only the bare minimum skills in order to survive their sinister game. He opened his eyes and turned to her.

"Well then we don't have to skirt around each other then… Your Majesty."

There was madness in her eyes, and a slight swell to her lower lip. She screamed of desperation, the worst kind, where a person would kill just to do something about it. He couldn't summon much sympathy for her; she had broken her own toy.

She grinned at him like a jack-o-lantern, "Be careful. You two have no power here."

"Maybe not the literal kind, but there are plenty of different other types of power," he remarked. Her posture straightened.

"Your partner is just a pawn waiting to be jumped."

Mr. Gold frowned, "I'll warn you once, and then whatever happens to you afterwards is your own fault. Don't underestimate Belle."

"Or what? You'll come after me?"

He laughed, "I wouldn't need to. She's quite capable of fighting when she wants to."

Belle stared out the guest room window, watching a branch sway in the wind. She had started reading a Gary Paulsen book, but it reminded her too much of the Huntsman. She had spent most of the rest of the day trying to figure out how to get Regina to pay up without losing more ground. Belle had done her part of the bargain, giving Rumplestiltskin true love's kiss. It wasn't her fault it didn't do anything here but wake her up.

But even if she obtained Graham's heart, how would she put it back into his chest without magic? Surgery would raise questions…

She heard the front door open and she turned, waiting expectantly, "Is everything alright out there? I heard sirens earlier."

Mr. Gold appeared in the doorway, his face blank as he entered. Belle frowned, "Is something wrong?"

He sat down beside her and took her hand.

"The Sheriff's been released of his prison," he said. Belle's eyes widened.

"He has his heart back?"

Mr. Gold shook his head.

Belle had the sensation of falling, of tumbling from some semblance of okay into a void of being very not okay.

"No…" she murmured, shoulders shaking, "No… I was going to get his heart back, no!"

She had done her part of the deal, but she was too hesitant to demand Regina to pay up.

III

"No loup garoux pelt for me, dearie?" Rumplestiltskin quipped, spinning at his wheel. Belle was tempted to throw something at him.

She stormed through the grand hall, magicking the blood from her clothes. Rumplestiltskin set his thread down and turned towards her.

"Spare me your lecture," she hissed, "I know I should've killed him."

"Yet instead you sent him into the Infinite Forest, where he may feast on lost souls for as long as he lives."

"I didn't think!" She snapped, and in the firelight he saw her eyes fill with tears.

"You need to, if you're going to run around making deals," he insisted, squinting at her, "Do you even know what you're going to ask for from the Huntsman?"

"Leave me alone!" She shouted, slamming the door behind her.

Rumplestiltskin knew he'd pay for that. True words always were said at a price.

Belle scrubbed at her skin in the washroom, feeling disgusting. Would her hands ever be clean again? And what right did Rumplestiltskin have to criticize her deals? If she didn't want to kill, she didn't have to. And why should she ask anything from her friend? Friends were for helping each other.

The logical part of her mind reasoned that Rumplestiltskin had experience in this area, and he was just correcting her mistakes like any good teacher. The emotional part of her mind shut it up quickly.

Her body scrubbed pink, she dressed into her nightgown and turned to the bloody dagger. Her anger softened as she took a clean cloth to it, caressing it as though it were a part of him. It protected her; it saved her life. It was a gift that promised she meant more to him than power.

She polished and sharpened the grooved dagger, the engraving gleaming dully. Rumplestiltskin… a name that brought fear to everyone but her.

III

Grief was a lonely road, one that went single file without room for a companion. Mr. Gold watched Belle's suffering, wishing he could leech it from her and take it on himself. She blamed herself, even though he had pointed out that she hadn't been the one to rip out his heart and crush it. Sometimes blaming oneself was therapeutic, as long as it was short term.

He knew better than to talk her out of going to the funeral, just warned her to be careful.

Belle felt like a monster, standing back while he died because she didn't want to give up an advantage. It was something the Dark One would've done, and it disgusted her. She sat at the back of the church, not a dry eye in the place. Authority was universally hated due to Freudian associations with parents, and yet even with the badge Sheriff Graham Humbert had been a well-loved man.

Regina sat with Henry in the front row, rigid as a slab of marble. Even though she had killed him, Belle longed to comfort the pained woman. It was hard to lose someone even if you were the one to send them away. Belle's goal was to remain invisible, fly under the radar, and leave the memorial without a confrontation.

Emma was conspicuously absent from the gathering.

Belle waited until the initial rush had faded, then slipped into the viewing room. The casket was propped open and she approached hesitantly, as though afraid of waking him. He looked so much like the Huntsman she remembered, face taunt and serious. She was hoping he'd look like Graham, or at least peaceful.

She stared down at him for a long time, unsure what to say, whether to apologize or to condole. She took in a deep breath.

"I hope you are reunited with your family," she murmured finally, "That you get to run with the wolves again."

She brushed a curl back from his forehead.

"Regina will fall," she insisted, "I haven't forgotten our promise, and I will continue to make good on it."

She pressed three of her fingers to her lips, kissed them, then pressed the fingers to his chest, right over where his heart would've been. And then she left.

Something slammed into her in the hallway and Belle absurdly wondered if Regina had shrunk, or was trying to cut off circulation to her legs. She glanced down.

"Henry!"

He was sobbing into her shirt, holding onto her as if she'd disappear. She squirmed out of his grasp, crouching down and stroking his hair.

"You have to forget!" He begged, eyes red and puffy, "It'll come after you too, you have to forget Mrs. Gold!"

"Oh Henry…"

"Good loses, good always loses, and you're good!"His shoulders trembled, "I don't want you to die like Graham…"

Belle held onto his shoulders, "Listen to me," she murmured, "If I ignore this, if I crawl into my hole and forget, then the Huntsman's death will be in vain. I have to remember, for him, for all of us, no matter the consequences," she wiped at his cheeks as Henry's cries quieted, "I love him too much to do that… So I have to be brave and trust that good will win, because good does win in the end," she shook her head, "And believe me, being brave is the most terrifying thing in the world."

III

The Huntsman glanced up as Belle approached, looking more somber than usual.

"Your brothers have been cleared of all charges; it was a loup-garoux," she informed him.

"Thank you," he murmured, "And your price?"

"We'll barter later," she said, taking a seat on the bench. She rubbed at her forehead.

He eased himself down beside her, studying her face.

"You're so eager to help and yet when it comes time to collect, you're hesitant," he observed. Belle smirked.

"I've never been too comfortable with receiving," she admitted, then looked into his eyes, "…all I really want is your freedom." The Huntsman chuckled.

"It would figure that the only thing you want is what I can't give you."

They stared out at the gardens, a beautiful landscape that belonged to a woman whose heart was as ugly as the sins she committed. Beauty was such a vague thing, Belle thought. How could anyone decide what was beautiful and what was not? And did the source of that beauty matter if it itself was ugly?

"I don't think I'll ever be free again," The Huntsman said. Belle began to protest but he raised a glove to silence her, "It's just a fact, Belle."

He turned to her, "But you…you have love in your life. You have freedom. You have the things that I can't have," Belle took one of his hands into hers, holding it tightly. The Huntsman watched this with vague intrigue, "Will you promise me something, Belle?"

"Yes?"

"If you cannot free my heart…will you live for me? Will you love and hate and cry and laugh, be happy and sad and everything in between, until you can't possibly feel any more? Cherish each emotion because it's a gift?"

Belle nodded, "Of course I can do that."

"Good," he pulled his hand away, "In times like these we can't take anything for granted."

III

Mr. Gold tried to respect Belle's space but in that shop alone, Regina's words kept playing over and over in his head. He had put on a damn good front the other night in his opinion, but he had been terrified. He could not just appear at Belle's side if something were to go wrong; Belle couldn't just summon him if she was confronted. Their lives had become so fragile here, brief candles they were.

Life was but a walking shadow, a player that struts and frets their hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more. A tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury.

Signifying. Nothing.

Feeling he'd go mad cooped up alone, he ventured out, hurrying down the street towards the church. An appropriate drizzle had begun, drops clinging to his hair.

A figure was running down the sidewalk, clad in black with dark curls flying behind her. He picked up his pace, ignoring the objections in his bad leg and nearly jogging. He could hear her sobs, squeezing around her breathlessness.

They collided in front of the clock tower, and he was suddenly strong enough to take the blow of her running into his arms. Their lips met and parted, teeth scraping against flesh in their eagerness. There was no grace or gentleness to the kiss, only desperation and need.

Their arms wrapped around each other, practically one as they pressed as close as physically possible to each other. Their arms shook with exertion of holding on so tight, hot noisy breath panting onto the other's face. But they didn't stop, they couldn't stop, needing to remind each other just how much they meant to each other.

III

People aren't sleeping, delaying working, one person even forewent coffee, just to read this. Thank god that not everyone's this fanatical, or civilization would grind to a halt after every update. Like the Dark Curse.

Authorly news: I'm moving! Huzzah! I'll try to keep up my little-less-than-a-week's-wait pace, but just a warning, I've got a lot of packing to do and that requires my hands to leave the keyboard.

Sneak peek: Sweeney Todd. Not even joking. I will incorporate Sweeney Todd because Mr. Gold in the show is about one more heartbreak away from turning his pawnshop into a slaughterhouse and having Regina bake meat pies out of the corpses. That crossover potential deserves at least a nod. Also, ghost stories at finishing school and Belle finally takes Mr. Gold up on his back room offer.