Chapter 9
The first stop on Belle and Rumpelstilskin's journey was Boston. They checked into a five-star hotel, down town, and the highest building either had been in. The elevator trip to the top took Belle's breath away. After entering their room, she went straight to the window and looked out at the night lights of the city.
She shook her head. It was too much. Rumpelstilskin also came over to look, putting his arm around her. "What do you think?"
"I'm not sure what to think. It just seems unnatural."
He chuckled, "It is unnatural. That's where the expression man-made comes from."
"Thanks for the information. I had no idea," Belle lightheartedly snipped. She turned back to the window. "This view is rather breathtaking," she looked up at him, "but it's still not like our world."
"It's not supposed to be," Rumpelstilskin commented. "Come, let's get room service."
And he went about ordering the most expensive items on the menu, from the entrees to the Champagne. Belle had never had Champagne, and she loved the way it bubbled, and seemed to sizzle in her mouth. The more she loved it, the more she drank. Yet when she got up from the table, she stumbled. Instead of shouting out in alarm, she burst out laughing.
"Uh, oh," Rumpelstilskin said from somewhere far away.
She felt, rather than saw, him guide her to the bed, where she flopped over and crash-landed. She could have sworn she felt someone remove her shoes, but didn't quite know who. For some reason that made her giggle more.
But laughter was far from her mind the next morning when she awoke to find Rumpelstilskin working intently at the table and she felt . . .
"Rumpelstilskin?" she called, but it came out a croak.
"Yeeeeesss?" He turned toward her.
"I think there's something wrong with me." She held her head. "I ache all over. Could it be the flu?"
"I think not," he replied, with a wry grin.
"No, no, I'm serious," Belle insisted weakly. "I really think I have the flu!"
Out of nowhere she felt a wet facecloth placed on her neck. "Yes, dearie. You have the flu. The self-inflicted kind!"
"What?" Her voice was muffled because she now lay face-down.
"Belle, you are drunk!" And he laughed.
"No," she moaned, lifting her head. "I . . . I don't get drunk."
"Of course not!" He waved his hand over her and she was instantly cured. She sat up and looked at his amused eyes.
"Glad you enjoyed that!" She scolded.
"It was so cute! How could I not?" He touched his forehead to hers.
She got up in a huff, "I'm taking a shower."
"You do that," he raised his eyebrows a little wickedly earning a glare. "Enjoy yourself." He touched her face. "I have some things to look into."
"What things?" Belle asked.
"Some inquiries to make. You must stay here." Rumpelstilskin waved his hand over the door. "This will keep you safe."
"Can't I come with you?"
He shook his head. "It's better if I am the only one." He handed her the remote. "Enjoy exploring cable TV."
After he had left, Belle showered, and then read for awhile. Finally she was so bored that she took the half-hour it took to figure out how the remote worked. The first movie she came to was "Ella Enchanted." The title caught her curiosity so she started watching it.
"I've been dreaming of the true love's kiss!" The song blared from the speakers. Belle immediately shut the television off and threw the remote across the room, not caring that something broke.
Then she went back to the bed and started reading another Agatha Christie book: Cards on the Table.
…
The next week was spent in what was the first road-trip either had taken. They zoomed along the highway, staring with awe and amusement at the truck stops. Rumpelstilskin decided that it would be fun to collect a new shot glass from each state.
Every hotel they stayed in was five-star. Even though Belle enjoyed the sites, by the time they reached Arizona, she was already growing tired of it. Rumpelstilskin became quieter and quieter as they continued. He also started spending every night researching. At one city he got the penthouse so that he could go out on the balcony, to stretch out his hands, and find nothing.
Belle would sometimes convince him to sleep, but he agreed only infrequently. Then he quit eating. Eventually, her appetite left too. The days seemed to slow down, and there were only so many books she could read, or television shows to watch.
But there was nothing.
Rumpelstilskin refused any query she would make, and his frustration was so palpable that she decided to stop asking. She found herself getting angry with him, which she always tried to repress. The last thing they needed at such a time was to have a lover's quarrel.
Then they reached Phoenix, and he started leaving for days at a time, only to come back to the room and pore over his notes, mutter to himself, and experiment. Purple clouds permeated the room as he added more strength to his efforts. But there was still no answer. With each session he would grow more exhausted and she more melancholy.
A month of this began to take its toll on Belle. She had wanted to travel, but not like this. She started having trouble sleeping, worrying, and staying up in an attempt to reassure him. She would speak of their hopes. What they would do when they returned to the castle. But she knew he never heard her. His mind was now always searching.
And still nothing.
"Maybe there's something I missed," Rumpelstilskin said.
Belle sat up. That was the first thing he had said that day. She was wearing her nightgown, though it was the afternoon. She had stopped dressing. What was the point if they never went out? She stayed in bed longer too, sleeping as much as she could and being grateful for the rare nights when he would join her, finally falling into a sleep that seemed to give him no rest.
"What did you say?" Belle asked.
"I must have missed something."
Belle knew that that there was nothing he had missed. His potions were always perfect for he had the most powerful magic in all worlds. And it was not enough.
Or maybe Rumpelstilskin had been wrong, and there was another Land Without Magic that Bae went to. Or he was dead. Or something else that she dared not say to him.
Each day was now spent in silence. Belle found herself looking at the clock willing for it to move faster, hoping that as each day passed he would realize that his efforts were futile.
Then the nightmares came back. She was in the asylum with nothing but the wall to watch, knowing that time would never move. The depression that came with survival under such circumstances also recurred. Sometimes she found it hard to distinguish between the dreams and reality.
Something had to change.
"Rumpelstilskin," Belle said after two months, and went to where he was sitting on the couch, his head grimacing in concentration. He looked up at her. "Maybe we should take a break," she suggested.
"A break?"
Yes," Belle replied. "Go back to Storybrooke for awhile. Clear our heads again."
Rumpelstilskin looked sharply at her. "You want to give up?"
"No. Recharge, if you will. Perhaps you may see something after some rest . . . Maybe I can help you."
He shook his head.
"Could you let me try?" Her lips trembled a little.
"Belle don't!"
"Don't what?"
"Don't cry." His voice was cold and brittle.
Belle blinked back the tears. "Very well." But then Rumpelstilskin surprised her by bursting into tears himself, great sobs of despair. She stayed rooted to the spot, terrified. He looked as he did the night magic came back to Storybrooke. This time, though, he was not facing losing her, but his son. Again. She saw the Beast coming over his visage, but she was not afraid of what he would do to her, but rather what he would do to himself. This time it was a real possibility that she would not be able to bring him back from that danger as she had before.
"Please," she was by his side, stroking his hair. "Let's go to Storybrooke. Just for awhile."
He said nothing, his head still in his hands.
"You're exhausted," tears leaked out of her eyes. "Please."
Finally he nodded laying his head in her lap, as he clutched her around her waist.
…
Back in Storybrooke, Rumpelstilskin returned to his room, pouring over even more notes. He came out every week or so, occasionally sleeping next to her, but Belle was mostly alone day and night. Often she was angry, but mostly she suffered a crippling boredom. Seconds. She started counting seconds. More and more she awoke thinking that she was back in the asylum.
But she couldn't get him to stop, not with pleas or tears. He insisted that he would find an answer. There was just something he had missed. Then she began weeping all day, with no relief. There was not even Dr. Hopper to talk to for those sessions had been cancelled long ago. Belle suspected now that Rumpelstilskin knew what was going wrong, as did she. But to speak of it would be more dangerous than trying to kiss him. Yet she had to find some way for him to give up before they both went mad.
But how could she ask a man to give up his child?
What other choice did she have?
And then a forbidden thought came to Belle. Unheard of in her character. . . wrong. She blocked it immediately. But as more days, hours, and seconds ticked by, the idea returned to her. As she struggled, each tick on the clock seemed to mock her. Why not? Why can't she do that for him?
These questions went over and over in her head for a week, until she gave in.
That night, Belle prepared for bed very carefully and for a brief, insane moment, had thought about wearing the special 'night-gown' that was part of Rumpelstilskin's joke so long ago. But she did not have the nerve. Instead, she put on her usual, high-necked nightdress.
He had promised to take a break that night. But he did not come to bed until around three in the morning.
"Why did you wait up?" he asked.
"I," Belle's mouth was full of sawdust. "I wanted to be awake when you came in."
Rumpelstilskin nodded, not seeming to hear her, and got into bed, briefly touched her face, and then turned on his side away from her. Belle took a deep breath and put her body next to his, her arms lower around him than before, but not too low. She began to sweat, terrified. This was not going to work. Determined for one more try, she steeled herself and tried again, moving a little.
"Belle," his low and steady voice broke the silence. "What are you doing?" All his muscles had turned to iron under her arms.
"Nothing," she whispered, and pulled away. She could not do it. Then his hand grabbed hers, keeping her by him.
Rumpelstilskin peered at her, and her head ducked.
"We never lie to each other," he reminded her.
"I." Perhaps the direct way was better. "I was thinking that True Love's Kiss was forbidden, but that maybe . . . maybe. . . something else was not." She said the last so quickly as to almost be incomprehensible.
He sat up abruptly, understanding. "Belle. No!" He shook his head, "Never . . ."
"But maybe, if we tried," Belle continued, a little desperate, "if true love could maybe, maybe help you, and since it would not be a kiss. . . "
"Belle, if one kiss is enough, what do you think that would do?" he asked.
She was silent.
"Do you have any idea what you're talking about?" He asked almost gently.
She had to shake her head. Don't cry . . . don't cry . . .
"And even if not," Rumpelstilskin continued. "Didn't you think about what the consequences would be? That you could get pregnant?"
She looked down.
"You did." Full realization was coming upon him.
Belle tried to explain. "Perhaps, if, well, maybe another child would help you get over. . ."
"You want to replace my son?" his accused, his voice rising.
"Not replace," Belle insisted. "Just, maybe, move on . . ."
"Not until I find him!" He said through gritted teeth.
"Yes. We will find him. But maybe we could also . . . Maybe . . ." her mouth was drier.
"Why are you doing this?" He peered closely at her. "The Belle I know would never give herself up to be used in this way."
Belle did not know whether to continue arguing, or just revel in the fact that they were having a real conversation for the first time in months. She chose the former. "No, it's not something I would do," she agreed. "But it's also not me to spend days and days in solitude, allowing the man I love to slide into despair!" Her voice was rising too.
"I know, " Rumpelstilskin agreed. "But not this, Belle. Not this!"
She tried one more time, "Is it really giving away who I am? So out of my character? Since we'll get married one day anyways . . ."
Now he turned his head away.
"You are planning marry me?" Belle grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her.
But he did not answer.
Belle did not think it was possible for her spirits to drop more. She was wrong. Her head slowly lowered to the pillow, and she found herself going into a fetal position.
"I need to find my son," Rumpelstilskin said. He got up to go back to his study.
She grabbed his hand with as much strength as she could muster. "I just want you to be happy," she whispered.
"Oh, my poor Belle," he withdrew his hand. "I will never be happy."
"I know." She curled tighter, tears soaking her pillow. "I know."
He did not hear her for he was already gone.