Underneath the hood of Gold's car, the engine growled like an alley cat. Talk radio hummed quietly over the rumble of the vehicle. Belle sat in silence. Though her eyes were fixed on the dark road ahead, Gold's anxious sideways glances registered faintly in her peripheral vision. The pedestrian nature of the drive provided an incredible contradiction to the collision between Moe French and Mr. Gold. During the ride Belle's thoughts drifted in the companionable silence until they pulled off on the side of the road.
Gold seemed to be waiting for her question, but Belle continued to look into the inky blackness that resulted from powered-down headlights. Finally he spoke.
"Can you forgive me?" his voice was soft and thin, "...For what I did?"
"I'm not upset." Belle replied hollowly, unintentionally mirroring his near-whisper. On some level, Belle was disappointed that she hadn't felt utterly disgusted by the feud outside of the pawnshop. After the long day of odd revelations, she couldn't manage more than an all-encompassing weariness. She heard him turn to face her and listened as he shifted in his seat for a few moments. Then tentatively, his arms snaked out from the driver's seat and pulled her in to him. She buried her face in his jacket and could hear his shaky breathing.
"I did it because…I thought he had shut you out. That you were gone forever," his body heat radiated out through his layers of clothing. "I cannot tell you what it meant to have you back. You were always so much more than I deserve. And then…"
His voice had cracked. Tension hung in the air of the small cabin. Belle's hands drifted up to grip his coat. Then her fingers were winding on the back of his neck. Gold leaned in to kiss her, gentle and deep. He seemed eager to press as deeply as he could in to her. He was warm and tender, and she whimpered against his lips. Belle's reaction was singular.
It felt intimate.
As the kiss tapered off he pressed his forehead into hers with fingers tangled in her hair.
"We should go," he whispered as his breathing grew more even.
"How much farther?" she asked, again whispering though there was not another soul for miles around.
"We'll be getting out here. Then a very short walk."
Uneven terrain abounded. Belle both heard and felt the snapping of twigs and leaves as their exhales danced in the cold Maine air. Despite his handicap, through his ability to both choreograph firm footing with his cane and guide her through the thick forest Gold proved miraculously agile. They hadn't been walking for long before they reached the clearing. A cloud shifted away from the moon and the glowing orb illuminated a dilapidated well. Releasing her hand, Mr. Gold meandered to the well's edge, withdrew the box from his pocket, and deposited it on the ledge.
"The waters of this well have the ability to restore and return what once was lost," he quietly explained as she approached the edge of the well. He watched her closely. Hesitantly, she nodded. Pulling at a rope line, Gold began dragging a bucket to the surface.
"Belle," he narrated over the gentle creaks of the pulley, "When I saw this I realized I had been thinking more of myself than what may have meant the most to you –"
"Oh stop!" she exclaimed and through the darkness she could make out his quizzical expression, and the bucket balancing precariously on the well's stone edge. She puffed angrily and moved closer to Mr. Gold. "You say these things: 'you're more than I deserve.' But they're hardly true. You care…so much! It blinds you, it overpowers you, and the things you love become the only things that matter. I didn't understand…before. Now. Now I do. You're only human, Mr. Gold."
Belle's wrapped her hand over his on top of the box. She kissed him briefly on the cheek and lifted the lid. Inside was a laminated dried rose. Just large enough to serve as a bookmark. Gold leaned over her and removed the dried flower from the container.
"What I meant," Gold purred, peeling the plastic away from the plant, "was that I didn't realize that maybe the moment I ascribed such importance to did not have the same impact on you." He dipped his fingers in to the bucket of water. A few shakes of his digits and the flower sprang to life. Fresh and red. He pulled her hand up and pressed it to his lips. Then with a flourish he withdrew the rose and took a step back.
"For you," he presented it to her with an extravagant bow. "If you'll have it."
Belle reached for the rose and plucked it gently from his outstretched arm. Her stomach practically cartwheeled. Pressing it to her nose, she inhaled lightly for the smell. It was sweet. He was hardly a beast. In that moment, Rumplestiltskin was only a man.
It was like she never forgot.
Leaving the Dark Castle, seeing the flower through her tears. Taking the keepsake with her, preserved in the pages of her books. A quiet reminder and constant companion in Regina's captivity. Transported out of the asylum in her hasty escape with the madman. A secret subtle sentimentality she hoped to keep for herself…a symbol that walking away from him had not been easy, a keepsake and poor substitute for his company.
Her true love must have seen something in her expression because within an instant he was on her. Frantically her tongue traced familiar patterns on the inside of his mouth, relishing how he held her and that everything was once again in its place.
"Rumplestiltskin! You…the deal?" though she had broken away he was sprinkling small panicked, distracting, kisses up and down her neck interspersed with small compliments, blessings, and curses in a multitude of languages that she had varied levels of familiarity with. "…Three hours? How much time do we have left?"
"Not enough." he growled, unrelenting in his ravishing. She surrendered for a moment, fingertips dancing over every part of him that she could reach and practically swooning before she gained the presence of mind to push him away and finally had words.
"You have a plan?" she inquired breathlessly.
"I promised to lead them to the dagger's hiding place," he had contented himself with embracing her tightly. She wanted to burrow inside his coat and never leave. "I made no promise that the dagger would be there."
"So, if not in this hiding place. Where will it be, then?" she asked nervously.
"Belle," he took a step back so only his hands were on her shoulders. "I'm going to give it to you. And I want you to take it across the town line. Since you have crossed before the barrier spell will have no effect. When you take the dagger over, the Dark One's curse will be lifted from the blade."
That he would abdicate magic was shocking in and of itself, but it paled to the obvious design flaw.
"But…without the curse, you'd be a man again. An ordinary man," the regent's familiar description tasted like gasoline on her tongue. "I can't leave you behind unable to use magic. They'd kill you instantly!"
"I cannot break the deal, Belle," he sounded astonishingly tranquil. "And you won't be safe if the dagger is within the town line. If there's any chance to take the Dark One's curse Regina and her mother will pursue it relentlessly."
This couldn't be true.
"Rumple, you didn't specify the way you'd lead them to the dagger! You could write a note telling them the hiding place. We've both crossed over! We could leave now and start a life far away from here!"
He shook his head. "It's too risky. Regina's wrath has always been directed at Snow White. When I'm gone she'll have no reason to go after you. But Regina and her mother aren't the only ones looking to harm me in any way possible," as his eyes darted away, she couldn't help but be awed and aggravated by his complicated relationships. "Belle, I need to stay away to keep you safe."
"Rumplestiltskin!" he really couldn't have chosen any better way to strengthen her resolve. She latched on to him and looked him directly in the eye. "No one chooses my fate but me. I promised you forever. And I intend to deliver on that promise."
As they rode together in Rumplestitlskin's car, Belle marveled again at her exhaustion.
Fatigue ripped at all parts of her.
But she was awake now and would not rest.
Whatever came next they would face it together.
Author's Note: Annd…that was the original end-point I had in mind as I was writing this. If it's unsatisfying, don't hesitate to let me know. Thank you to everyone who'd reviewed, favorited, and followed this story! I intend to draft more personal messages soon.