"Belle...Belle..." Soft whispers and the feeling of hands around her arms brought her out of the black haziness of sleep and into the bright, crispness of their home. When she opened her eyes, she saw Rumpelstiltskin in front of her, his hands supporting her arms which bore the weight of their son sleeping peacefully against her shoulder.

"You fell asleep," he pointed out as her arms tightened over Gideon. "I didn't want you to drop him."

"Thank you," she smiled. Her eyelids were still heavy with sleep when she looked up into Rumple's eyes and saw tears gathered there for no possible reason that she could fathom. "You're crying!"

He shook his head as he relieved her of Gideon carefully enough not to wake him. "I had the privilege of seeing something beautiful. That's been known to bring a tear to the eye on occasion," he explained setting their son in the bassinet they now kept downstairs.

With a smile and a blush, she plucked herself out of the rocking chair so that she could move to sit at the far end of the sofa, next to the armchair he'd taken to using for himself. "I'm sure I look anything but beautiful at the moment. It's been such a long day and I'm so tired I think I could fall asleep right here!"

"You are beautiful," he responded sitting down, predictably, in the armchair. "But the image of you napping with our son…it's times like that I wish I had a camera in the house."

"There are at least a dozen in the shop, you know."

He nodded. "I know…but they're old, second hand and bulky. I'd prefer to have one a bit more compact."

She made a mental note of that. It wasn't often that Rumpelstiltskin confessed a desire for something like a camera in the details he'd provided. Information like that could one day be very valuable if the right time ever presented itself.

She felt a yawn coming on from where she sat did her best to close her eyes and swallow it back on a sigh, but it was of no use, it popped out of her mouth whether she wanted it to or not. It was an odd sort of thing they'd developed. She was happy to be tired, grateful because it meant that the nighttime duties of their son were now evenly divided. She'd asked for this, yet he let her complain about it without ever questioning if she wanted to stop and just sleep because she did not. Complaining about being tired with a one month old was normal. It was what all parents did, and she wouldn't trade one bit of it for the entire world.

But she did glance at the clock, an acknowledgment of the deal they'd made with themselves and with each other. Gideon slept as he wanted to, with no bedtime because he was simply too young for all of that, they had set a goal for themselves however to make it to at least nine o'clock before they retired, in an effort to maintain some kind of sense of schedule. It was a rule that made her want to laugh and cry all at the same time. She'd always been more of a night owl, the last time she'd been required to be in bed by nine she'd been ten and even then, she used to stay up far later reading in her bed. Yet even now as she looked at the clock she was vastly aware that she was counting down the last fifteen minutes of their day eagerly. Nine couldn't come fast enough. She only hoped that when it did Gideon would remain asleep.

Fortunately, Rumple, who she swore was also tired but didn't show it as much as her, was excellent at providing conversation during this part of the night, the time when she most wanted to drift off with her son. In fact, if he'd been in here with her as she rocked Gideon, instead of doing the dishes, she was certain she never would have fallen asleep.

"I saw Snow White go into the library today," he commented as they sat there in the room together, too tired to do anything but talk and yet determined to make these last fifteen minutes count for something.

"Oh, you did, did you?"

"I happened to glance out the window and observe it."

Of course, she had told him the very day when Snow White had first come into her library to talk to her what had happened. He hadn't been surprised by the news as he just so happened to "observe" it then too. He was a bit hypersensitive about the library. So long as he worked in the front of his shop he could easily see who came and went. It was a learned behavior, she assumed. Things had been so quiet in Storybrooke for weeks now that she was convinced everyone was on pins and needles waiting for it all to end and the next disaster to strike. So long as the library contained his family, he expressed his paranoia in that way, keeping an eye out for anyone and everyone who entered the library on a daily basis. Somedays he reminded her of people she'd seen, like today when Snow had stopped by, unannounced for the second time.

It had been two days since her initial visit, two days since she'd told Rumple almost all the story, leaving out only the invitation to dinner in the days to come because she wasn't sure she was ready for him to know that bit just yet. But the visit today, while slightly awkward, had been harmless. Her primary focus had been on reminding her about the dinner, but the secondary focus had quickly emerged when Rapunzel had retrieved her crying baby and brought him downstairs.

"She stopped by again, wanted to see Gideon and introduce him to Neal," she explained gently. "I think that she thinks they could be playmates when they're old enough."

"They could indeed. Certainly the right age. Did she say anything else about the other matter?"

"No," she muttered. The dinner had come up but nothing about what had happened during Gideon's time as the town villain. She seemed very determined to put that time behind her and move forward with their relationship, repairing what had been damaged, instead of dwelling on the damage that was done itself. It was a bit disconcerting. She wasn't sure if she was ready to move forward in the obvious way that Snow was yet. It was hard to be sure, after what happened, where her loyalty lay. She wanted to believe that in the future should something come up she would be supportive and respect their wishes, treating her and her husband as equal and important parts of the team they always forms when trouble struck. But her mind kept reminding her that this was not the first time that something like this had happened. Perhaps it had never taken place on such an enormous scale before, but it had happened before. Would it again?

"It's hard to know what's real with her now. I'd always thought we were friends but then to do something like she did and say some of the things like they said-"

"Parents do irrational things to make sure their children are alright, Belle. You know that."

She stared at him a bit in shock. Yes, she knew that. She preferred not to think of the irrational things that she had done to make sure Gideon was safe because it had backfired so miserably she knew she would live with it and regret it for the rest of her life. But what was surprising to her wasn't how keen he was to remind her of it, but the implication of who he was protecting with that sentence.

"Are you defending her?" she questioned. People did irrational things for their children, but that was simply uncharacteristic of Rumpelstiltskin. Defending Snow White? It wasn't like him.

"Perhaps. To be honest I'm a bit more surprised that you're not. You are usually the first person to see people as they are."

"And then I misjudged the people I thought were my friends and the man I love so poorly...can you blame me for doubting myself?"

He shook his head. "No, but your instincts have always been genuine and correct in some way. You've been able to sense the good in people who don't show it and the evil in those who hide it. A good person can make mistakes, it doesn't negate everything they've ever done."

"And evil beings can do good deeds, but it never seems enough to forgive them."

"Not initially. Do you think she meant harm that day? When she came into the shop and said those things about Gideon, do you think they were true?"

She thought of that, took herself back to those terrible comments and replayed them in her mind acknowledging that they were so twisted in her mind it was difficult to remember exactly how she'd said them. But she remembered how Snow had acted, that spoke volumes.

"I believe that if given the chance they would have killed Gideon."

"Yes, but do you believe she would have enjoyed such a task? Or that she was happy to be in that position."

"She certainly made it sound as though she would have been."

"People say things in the heat of the moment that they don't mean all the time. Things that are misinterpreted and misconstrued."

"They thought that we replaced Gideon, Rumple. That we took a newborn we just found on the street and they left us to our grief. No one came to see us." Even she knew that argument didn't follow logically with the conversation they'd been having. A remark like that in the argument was irrelevant as it was a grievance all on its own. One he apparently could tear down easily with only a few words.

"And when did you go see her?"

She had no comments for that, no answer because in truth she hadn't gone to see her and she knew why. She could lie, she could say that she was busy, they'd suddenly had a newborn on their hands and had to scramble to get their lives back together. That excuse certainly would have passed, but only for the first week. Two at the most. In the time that followed she could think of dozens of times when she would have been able to go see Snow White, when they could have spoken of what happened and tried to come to some kind of agreement with it. But she hadn't. And she knew that because she could think of a dozen times that she had actively avoided seeing Snow White. She'd been glad when Regina had done the dirty work of bringing the potion request to them. Before she and Rapunzel stepped foot inside Granny's she'd kept an eye out for her and once changed her mind about going saying she wasn't hungry just because she'd been inside. She'd always believed that friendship, like any relationship, had to include two committed parties. She knew that if she was put to the test she would not have held her end up.

Still, it was difficult to say that she'd do anything different when the Black Fairy was in town. If she'd been in her position, she wanted to believe she would have handled it better, but she couldn't say that she would have. If the situation were reversed, she would have protected Gideon just as Snow had protected Emma. And even with their situation as it was she wouldn't take back defending Gideon for a single moment. The Black Fairy had placed them on two opposite sides of a war. She wasn't sure there was any outcome where they would have been able to be on the same side. And yet…to forgive it all even knowing that was difficult.

"Forgiveness is a strange thing," she mumbled in observation. "It's difficult when it should be easy and easy when it should be difficult."

"Oh?" Rumple prompted as she stared at the ceiling. But when she looked over at him she saw a trace of curiosity and wisdom in his eyes that were misplaced. He thought that she was having some kind of revelation about Snow White, and she supposed that she might be, but this riddle had an easier answer that was right in front of both of them. They were the living example of it.

How many times had they wronged each other? How many times had they hurt one another? In the grand scheme of life the offenses they'd committed against each other were far greater than any offenses they'd committed against others and yet here they sat, with their child slumbering across the room and grudges held against Snow White and her father. What they'd done had been shorter and simpler than what they'd done to each other and yet those were the offenses they struggled with. She couldn't speak for him, but she knew that the sins he'd had against her…they were gone.

"I've forgiven you." The words were only a breath and she felt her eyes go wide with the realization. She hadn't considered it before now but she searched her heart in the aftermath of those words and discovered they were true. She'd forgiven him!

"Oh?" he repeated, his gaze shifting to shock and surprised. It was a gaze to match her own. Neither had expected this kind of turn in their conversation. "For…"

"All of it," she answered, the words flying free from her mouth before she could stop them. But much like her previous comment, when she paused to consider if the words were true or not, she was astounded to discover they were. All of it. The deal he'd made with Hades, not telling her about the curse, all the anger she had stored up over being held and nearly murdered on the Jolly Roger, the scissors and the threats to take Gideon away from her…it was all gone. Months ago, the very thought of those words had made her fists tighten and her face go red with rage. Now she only felt sad thinking about it, about all the wasted time, all the harsh words, everything that she'd allowed herself to feel instead of happy. And yet...she also knew that this couldn't have happened any other way.

"When?" he questioned further. Singular words suggested he was so caught off guard he was unable to form complete sentences.

When? That was exactly the question? When had all this happened? When had the anger left? When had she released it all and just decided to move on? She couldn't find that moment.

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I thought for a long time it would be the hardest thing to do, but one day the anger was there and the next it wasn't. It was so easy it wasn't even a conscious thought, just something I did. I looked up, and you had a clean slate…just like that. The scars remain, but the rest is just gone. Replaced with the fear that one day I'll wake up and find I was the fool and it happened all over again."

"That won't happen," he stressed, reaching out to bridge the gap between them and joining their hands together. "This time is different. With you and Gideon…it's different than it's ever been."

She refused to comment, just let the warmth of his hand grant all the comfort it could. It was different. She wanted it to be different this time. But she wasn't about to bring up just how many times she'd heard him say that things were different and always turned out to be the same. Somehow, she thought that dwelling on that particular subject would produce the opposite results of the difference she was hoping for.

So where did that leave them then?

"Do you think…do you think you could ever forgive me?" she wondered aloud, her voice a whisper around the lump in her throat.

"There's nothing to forgive," Rumple whispered.

She rolled her eyes and tightened her hand within his own fingers. "Don't say that," she cried. That was ridiculous. There was everything to forgive. They hadn't gotten into this situation by his hand alone, after all. She had her own sins to atone for. When it came to Gideon, she knew she would spend the rest of her life trying to make it up to him whether he remembered his past or not. But with Rumple…she constantly wondered just how much farther she had to go, if things ever could be excused. He'd been just as angry with her as she had been with him, to say there was nothing to forgive was a ridiculous notion.

"No, let me explain," he muttered sitting forward. "There is nothing to forgive because I've already forgiven it. I can't be angry at you without being angry at my own actions and if you can forgive those…who am I to hold a grudge against myself and you. It's just…it's truly a clean slate. I want it to be new between us. A fresh start."

He stared at her, waiting for her to say something in response to his declaration. But she had no words. There was an odd sensation buzzing in the space around them and somehow the air felt heavier than it had since they'd come back together. That awkward feeling had suddenly returned, the exact same feeling they'd both felt when there was something missing between them. The feeling spoke for itself, loud enough to make moving to break it nerve wracking, but soft enough that doing nothing seemed impossible.

She glanced over at the bassinet, double checking that Gideon was still asleep. Then, with a nervous swallow, she rose from her space on the couch, moved by his words and drawn by his unfamiliar but easy compassion. He stared up at her with a gaze that was curious, but knowing and hopeful all at the same time, never once letting go of his hand. An armchair wasn't the biggest or easiest piece of furniture they had, but she was small enough to make due. It was a tight fit, but her legs slid easily into each of the gaps between chair and leg while he bore the rest of her weight over his lap. There was a heartbeat when they both moved and adjusted into a comfortable position, relearning bodies and what it was to be this close together as they were. His hands stayed respectfully planted on her waist, and her own moved to frame his head. There was a moment of stillness, of looking into eyes and asking the questions necessary, perhaps each waiting for a rebuke of some kind, the words that were required to stop what was happening, then they both gave in at once leaning forward and offering a kiss that began gently enough, but soon evolved.

They were not chaste kisses, nothing like the kind of kisses they'd been giving each other in the past month, these kisses were a step above and beyond. Tongues and lips and teeth and breath all moving simultaneously in a perfect synchronization she would have thought they'd forgotten but realized quickly she never could. There was heat between them. When she pulled forward he pushed back and when he leaned back she fell with him. Neither were unintelligent, both knew exactly what embraces like this led to, which was probably why it had taken so long to get back to this kind of interaction. She wasn't surprised, in fact, she felt relieved in a way, when she felt his hands begin to wander. First from her waist down over her thighs and then under her skirt, to curves he hadn't touched in months. His touch burned in the best of ways, making her want more and she was pleased when she felt those hands move back over her waist and start tugging at the fabric of her shirt desperate to get at what was underneath. She took it as an invitation for her as well and let her hands drift down his chest, counting the time she knew it would take her to get to his belt buckle. It was hasty and quick, and she shuddered as his lips went to her neck and collarbone before finding her mouth again. And then-

A harsh loud wail filled the room.

With a smack of lips, they both pulled away to gaze over at the bassinet Gideon lay in, the source of the crying that had suddenly interrupted them and sobered both of them. They fell back into one another, instantly a crumpled heap of wrinkled clothes and heated bodies desperate to catch a breath.

"He has…the worst timing…" she breathed, letting her forehead rest against his own. She felt like she'd just run a mile and a half from a dragon, and that had all been well and good a few moments ago, but this was easily the most exertion she'd had in a long while. She picked herself up out of the chair and Rumple went to gather their son in his arm as she fiddled with her shirt, making it decent once more. But when he looked back at her she felt herself blush as eyes trailed over her body, observing her actions in a wistful and sad way while her belly fluttered. She'd forgotten how he could make her feel as awkward and desperate as a teenager.

"It's probably for the better," he mumbled sadly. "Didn't you say you were tired?"

"I wasn't a minute ago."

He chuckled, then threaded his hand through her hair and kissed her forehead. "I'll get him calmed down before he screams himself hoarse and we'll put him to bed."

She nodded straightened her skirt before taking Gideon so he could buckle his belt again and close the top button of his shirt, which she couldn't even remember undoing for him. But she felt her heart swelled as he opened his arms to take Gideon once more. He was put back together…and she couldn't say that she was happy about it. And if the look he was giving her form was any indication he wasn't exactly happy about the interruption either.

"Probably for the best," he whispered again before moving around her and taking Gideon into the kitchen.

In the next chapter, we're going to talk about some of the fears they have that were expressed in this chapter as well as in the next chapter. But I suppose, if I have any other comments to make on this chapter, it's the fact that it surprised me. In outlining it, I would have thought Rumple would be all for Belle cutting Snow out of their life and originally had Rapunzel be "the encourager" in this chapter, but when I really thought about it...it made sense for Rumple to argue for forgiveness. Just...hear me out on this. For one it shows growth for him. He is recognizing that she needs friends and that he and Gideon can't be the center of her world. Snow White, who has a baby their age, would be an optimal choice for that. Second, I think after the incident with her father, he would want her to repair some relationships. He's already observed the destruction of one relationship in her life and whether it had to happen or not I do feel like he'd feel responsible for it. I don't think he would want Gideon to be responsible for another one. Even if he's too young to know it, it does carry weight to it and I don't think Rumple would ever want his son to feel that. And last, but actually most important of all, logically it made sense. Rumple is older and wiser than Belle. I think that he has gotten as far as he has by learning not to burn your bridges. He sees people as opportunities and even if he is trying to get away from the Dark Magic that doesn't change. The truth is that Snow White and Prince Charming are key players in the town and when something goes wrong they are good allies to have in your back pocket. Rumple knows that breaking all ties to them would be stupid. And for those reasons, I felt that it was a relationship Rumple would encourage. After all, he doesn't know about the dinner invite yet and he's not suggesting that Belle and Snow take a blood oath of sisterhood, he's not even saying he wants them to go to the movies together. In fact, all he's saying here is exactly what Belle has been saying to everyone besides Snow. What happened sucks, but it's in the past. Let's move on.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, Grace5231973, Paintbrush123, Rumbellefan, and Fox24 for your reviews. I hope the end of this comes as a nice little surprise to you. A slow burn is still a burn. I did want to add some heat back into this story, but naturally and slowly. This seemed like a good place to begin to rediscover that. Truth is flippin' sexy as hell, ya'll! And I loved the idea that Belle would think so too. I liked the idea that now that they don't have this weight of guilt and regret and indebtedness standing between them they are free to get back to each other again like they weren't before. More will come! You have my word. Peace and Happy Reading!