To Which Fate Binds: Chapter 10
Ten Years Earlier…
Moe French had always enjoyed his simple life. At fifty-seven years old, he had never married, had no children, and no living relatives. He had never been unhappy about his eternal bachelorhood; in fact, he preferred living alone to being tied to a nagging wife and ungrateful children. Many of his acquaintances were unhappily married and forced to support ungrateful children who did nothing but burden their parents. Moe didn't bring in much of a profit at his flower shop (in fact, he was often behind on the rent), but his needs were minimal and he could usually make ends meet. Some might have considered his life boring, but he had always been content.
However, his entire world came to a halt one evening in July when a stranger walked into his shop.
"May I help you?" Moe asked the man, who was dressed like nobody he had ever seen in Storybrooke. Moe didn't know much about fashion, but this man's clothes looked like something out of one of those period dramas that the women he had dated seemed to like.
"Are you Moe French?" the man asked him.
Moe nodded and grunted an assent.
"My name is Jefferson. I'm here about your daughter."
Moe frowned. "I'm not sure if you're joking with me or if you're just confused. Or crazy." He gave the man's getup a pointed look. "But I do not have—nor have I ever had—a daughter."
Jefferson sighed. "Regina really did a number on your memories, didn't she?" he mumbled, more to himself than to Moe.
Moe had no idea what he was talking about. Was this man referring to Regina Mills, the mayor?
Jefferson spoke to him as if he was a child. "Moe, you have a daughter. She's been locked up and her name is Belle."
"Belle," Moe murmured aloud. Suddenly visions and memories came rushing back to him. His beautiful, beloved wife, Brigitte, who had passed away too soon. And Belle. His dear, sweet daughter, Belle. "Belle—she's alive?"
"You remember," Jefferson whispered. "So it's true—the curse is weak tonight."
Moe ignored both Jefferson and the nagging questions that were surfacing inside of him. His mind drifted back to the day he had last seen her, as she was led away from that horrible monster. Who also happened to be his landlord.
"I'll kill him. Gold. Rumplestiltskin. Or whatever the hell his name is. As soon as I find her, I'll kill him."
"Rumplestiltskin didn't lock her up, Moe."
"Who did?"
Jefferson stayed silent. Instead of answering, he changed the subject. "You can't tell anyone that you remember. Both you and Belle will be in danger if you do. You can't even tell her. Belle needs to think that she grew up in this world."
Moe was colossally confused. He didn't know what Jefferson was talking about. All he knew was that he would protect Belle with everything he had—he would keep her away from that beast and even lay down his life for her if necessary. "What is this place? And where's Belle?"
"I'll take you to her. And I'll explain what I can on the way. Do you want to get her?"
"More than anything else in my life."
A mile away, Regina felt a strange disturbance in the curse's magic. It was nothing more than a minor hiccup, perhaps something that might have been imagined. She took out her cell phone, ready to call her minions to ask if anything unusual had happened. However, before she could dial Sidney's number, the phone rang of its own accord.
"Hello?" Regina said.
"Congratulations, Madam Mayor, it's a boy." Her heart pounded at Rumplestiltskin's voice. He was calling about the child. Her child. She was going to be a mother!
"Really, Gold, is it really necessary to be so dramatic?" Regina said flippantly, hiding her emotions.
She heard him sigh on the other end of the line. "Fine, Ms. Mills. The child you asked me to procure for you was born just a few hours ago. I hope this means that I can now build on that lovely parcel of land on Cedar Street…." Rumplestiltskin said. His counterpart in this world was a lot less interesting but also a lot less threatening.
"Yes, of course, Gold, you'll have your building permit. I expect the child to be delivered as soon as possible."
"Of course, Ms. Mills. I always keep my deals. As you very well know."
Regina would get caught up in the excitement of her new child, so much that it would be over a week before she found out that her most important pawn, a young woman with no memories of a life in this world or any other world, had been released from her prison.
Twenty-five hundred miles away, another young woman in a completely different type of prison, struggled to fight back tears as she gave up her newborn son, with the knowledge that she would never see him again.
And from then on, the curse was radically altered.
Present Day
"I have something I need to tell you," Belle said hesitantly, looking at Gold across the dinner table. It was three months since they had begun dating, one month since she had moved all of her belongings into his house. Others saw her shacking up with him after being with him for only two months as being foolish, but she had known it was the right decision.
"What is it, my love?" he asked.
She felt tears forming in her eyes. "I-I don't know how to say this, but…"
He stood, anger in his eyes. "Just spit it out—if you're going to leave me, just tell me!" His voice was impatient and his body was shaking.
"No! I'm not going to leave you," she cried in surprise. Why did he immediately come to that conclusion? "I'm not going to leave you," she repeated, her voice more even, more calm. She walked to him and put her hand to his cheek. "Listen to me, Adrian Gold. I love you and I don't plan on leaving you. But you need to stop thinking that I'm going to ditch you whenever something serious comes up. I'll stand by you no matter what, and I hope you do the same to me."
She put her arms around him, his body still shaking. "Always," he said, his voice raspy. "I'll never leave you. I'm sorry to automatically think the worst. I don't know what came over me. I've been on edge for the past few days. It feels like something bad is going to happen."
"Don't be silly," she said, with a kiss on his cheek. "Now, about what I was going to tell you…"
"Yes?" he prompted.
"You should know that I spent some time in the mental ward of Storybrooke Hospital."
"Storybrooke Hospital has a mental ward?" he said with a frown. Then he blushed, realizing that he had said the wrong thing. "I'm sorry, that slipped out. What I meant to ask was what happened. Why? And how long were you there?" The concern in his eyes comforted her.
She took a deep breath. "I was in there for four years. I used to have these strange dreams and hallucinations—I often couldn't tell the difference between what was real and what was fake. I was convinced that I was a princess locked in a castle waiting for her true love to rescue her."
"And do you still have these dreams? Or the hallucinations?"
"No. It's been ten years since my dad took me out of the hospital. Nothing has happened since then—no dreams, no hallucinations. I don't even remember much about my time there. And…" She took another deep breath. "…and I don't remember anything from before that time. I have no memories of my childhood or adolescence, outside of the time I spent locked up."
He didn't say anything, just stared at her for a few minutes.
"I can leave, you know," she said with tears in her eyes. "Now that you know I'm a former mental patient, I wouldn't blame you if you kicked me out."
"Belle, you are by far the sanest person I know. The only thing about you that would ever make me doubt your sanity is your willingness to put up with an old man like me. I love you too much to care about things that happened in the past; the only important thing to me is our future."
He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. "I love you too," she said.
Gold could feel something in the air, as though something had drastically changed. He wasn't sure what it was, only that there was something off.
None of the townspeople he encountered on the street that day seemed to notice anything different, nor did Belle. She was still full of smiles and laughs, causing his shop to be brighter than it ever had been before she arrived.
Despite Belle's contagious optimism, Gold still couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that something big—life changing, even—was coming. It was like the feeling before an approaching storm, one that had the ability to decimate entire towns and devastate populations.
It was only then he found out that Henry Mills had run away.
The next day, he began hearing more whispers and gossip throughout the town.
Henry Mills had returned. And his birth mother had come with him.
Gold remembered the Mills adoption with clarity. Regina Mills had begged him to help her find a child. At first, he had assumed she wanted another minion to do her bidding, but he had come to realize that she truly did want to be a mother. So he had found a suitable baby for her.
The adoption agency he had worked through had assured him that the child's parents were completely absent and would never attempt to find the child. Legally, it had been a closed adoption, and Henry's mother was supposed to be out of the picture. Gold had done thorough research and had been convinced that the child's mother would never search for him.
It was one of the few times in his life that he had ever been wrong.
The one bright spot about his mistake was that it would doubtless cause immense irritation in Regina Mills. She would certainly be displeased at the arrival of Henry's mother.
Still, Gold knew that he should investigate. He couldn't remember the last time an outsider came to stay in the town.
He walked into Granny's Bed and Breakfast that evening, knowing that he was later than expected for the rent.
The woman was standing at the counter, a blonde who might be considered pretty by some. Not by him, of course, he preferred brunette hair.
"What's your name?" Mrs. Lucas was asking.
"Emma Swan."
Suddenly everything came rushing back to him.
"Emma," he said, his mouth dry. "What a lovely name."
Gold, who now knew that he actual name was Rumplestiltskin, was unsure what he said next. He supposed that he had taken the money from Mrs. Lucas, but couldn't remember doing so. Nor did he remember leaving the bed and breakfast.
He began walking around, without a destination, his memories flooding back into his mind.
Bae. His son, he had to find his son. They were in the same world. He was ready to jump in his car and began scouring this world for Bae.
And Belle. She was alive. After spending so much time in mourning, he now knew she was alive. His longing for her, the fairy tale book, the chipped cup; everything suddenly made sense.
Fate had brought them together once again, and he had fallen in love with her for a second time.
Any by some miracle, she had fallen in love with him yet again—only this time he was not the powerful magician, but the cruel and crippled businessman.
Somehow, Rumplestiltskin arrived at his home. It was past dinner time, and he was thankful that he had told Belle he might be a little late; otherwise she would have been in a panic by now.
She was in the library, right in her chair where he would have expected her to be. A pot of tea sat next to her, his chipped cup empty and waiting for him.
He stood in the doorway watching her, and began trembling uncontrollably. Tears began to form in his eyes. He had never expected to see her again. Even right now, it was like a dream.
Her eyes lifted from her book. "Adrian! I'm glad you're home," she said. Her face changed, obviously noting his expression. She quickly stood and walked over to him.
He allowed her to take him in her arms, closing his eyes at her touch. "I-I thought you were gone."
"Why would you think that?" she asked. He inhaled her scent, the same scent he remembered from their days at the Dark Castle. "You know that I'd never leave you."
He knew that he had to be careful—his memories were back, but hers weren't. She was still Belle French, librarian, florist's daughter. As much as he wanted to try bring her memories back to him, he had to be patient, to let the savior do her job.
A new memory rushed back, one of the woman who had left him.
He had killed his wife.
In fact, he had killed many people, hundreds of them, many of whom didn't deserve it.
If Belle knew, she would never forgive him. He felt dizzy. Somehow he made it to his chair, where a concerned Belle knelt next to him. She began talking softly to him, worried, but he didn't register any of the words that she spoke.
Rumplestiltskin had killed many people, often thinking nothing of it. Adrian Gold, on the other hand, had a conscience, and felt like the most despicable man in this world or any other.
He was truly a monster.
He didn't deserve to be in the same room as her, let alone in a relationship. She was everything good and kind while he was the exactly the opposite. There wasn't a single man in this world—or their previous world—who was less deserving of her love than him.
He thought back to all of the times they had made love. At time, he had never felt such pleasure. But he had defiled her, violated her.
He had to stay away from her. He opened his mouth, ready to let her go.
However, the moment his eyes met hers, seeing the concern in them, he lost his nerve. She was the only good thing in his life. Without her, he was nothing.
Had he been a brave man, he would have let her go, knowing she would be better off without him. But his cowardice won out. He allowed her to hold him, at that moment and throughout the entire night in his bed.
During his centuries as the Dark One, there had only been two people who had the ability to make him feel guilty. Unfortunately, one of the two lay in his arms as he woke up the next morning. Despite knowing what a beast he truly was, he still allowed himself to take advantage of the most pure and precious woman he had ever met. And because he was a coward, he would likely continue to do so until her memories came back and she cast him away.
Rumplestiltskin quietly left the bed, knowing that Belle's alarm would go off at any moment. He was glad she would be working that day, because it would give him a few hours to think.
She came into the kitchen right as he finished making breakfast, which had become, in the past few months, one of his favorite ways to spoil her.
"Good morning," she said, giving him a peck on the mouth. "Did you sleep okay?"
He smiled, trying not to give away the emotional turmoil that was eating away at him. "Very well. You kept me warm."
She apparently saw right through his façade. "Do you want to talk about last night?"
He sighed and pulled her close. "Not right now. We'll talk about it later." For him, 'later' meant 'hopefully never'. He didn't expect that response would go over well.
Hurt crossed her face and it broke his heart to know that he was the one who put it there. "Is there another woman?" she asked, her voice cracking.
He was so shocked by her question that he just stared at her for a moment. He couldn't even imagine how she had come to that conclusion. However, the Belle of this world was less confident, more insecure. Yet, he still loved her with all of his being. "Absolutely not! You're the only woman I've been with in many years, and the only woman that I ever plan to be with for the rest of my life!" His voice was impassioned, and he could see the relief in her eyes. He lowered his voice. "Belle… whatever happens, just know that I love you, body and soul, more than any other woman I've ever encountered. In fact, you're the only woman I've ever truly loved." It was the truth—even though he had thought he loved Milah in the beginning, had tried to love her, he had never known real love until his son was born. And in the many centuries after that, in two different worlds, he had only fallen in love twice—both times with the same woman.
"I love you, too, Adrian," she said. He pulled her close, realizing how much he wanted to hear the words, 'I love you, Rumplestiltskin', to know that she accepted him completely, despite all of the horrible things he had done in the past. During their days together in the Dark Castle, she had never known the extent of his wickedness; if she had, she would have probably run away. However, he now wished he had been courageous enough to tell her, so that he could know exactly where he stood with her, rather than being forced to speculate. He promised himself that he would one day reveal everything, give her the choice to accept him (which was unlikely) or to leave him.
He held her for a few minutes until she untangled her arms from his shoulder. "I need to go to work. I'll see you for lunch." She gave him another kiss and left the room.
As soon as she was gone, he sat down and began plotting what to do next. He had to find out more information about the curse and how it had affected others in the town. While he had been the creator of the curse, it wasn't all his. Regina had returned his limp, and had probably found other little ways to try to make his life miserable.
He knew of only two people who had their memories of the other world, and he didn't want to discuss it with either of them. He preferred to have the upper hand when it came to Regina, and would not allow her to know he had his memories back except in dire circumstances. Moe French, on the other hand, could be easily manipulated. And he and French had a common goal—to keep Belle safe.
Rumplestiltskin arrived at Game of Thorns right at its opening, nine o'clock. Moe French arrived ten minutes later, appearing to be suffering from a hangover.
"Mr. French, I see why you have so much trouble supporting this business—you force the few customers you have to wait outside in the cold."
"What do you want, Gold?"
French would be much easier to manipulate in this state. "Can't a man have a cordial visit with the father of his beloved?" Rumplestiltskin asked.
"If you're here to ask for my blessing, forget it. You don't have it!" French snapped. He unlocked the door to the shop and walked to the counter where he slammed his keys.
"I'm completely aware of that," Rumplestiltskin replied dryly, following French. "I'm here for something far more important. Your daughter's safety might be at stake. A few months ago, you called me Rumplestiltskin. Where did you hear that name?"
"Holy shit-you remember!" French said, much to Rumplestiltskin's surprise and chagrin. The man wasn't as dim as he had originally thought.
"Just answer the question," Rumplestiltskin replied, teeth clenched. He was completely prepared to beat this man to bloody pulp if need be. In fact, he had dreamt of doing such a thing many times after hearing about Belle's supposed death.
"I know that you never lie, Dark One—you only twist words. So if I told Belle who you were, you wouldn't be able to deny it."
His hand tightened on his cane. This had been a huge mistake—he had completely underestimated Moe French.
"Do you really want to tell her before the time is right? Do you want your daughter to think that her father is a deranged lunatic?"
"I can tell the mayor that you remember—she'll believe me."
Before even thinking about it, Rumplestiltskin brought his cane down on the counter in front of him. His action didn't cause any damage, unfortunately, but did manage to get the other man's attention. Moe French jumped back. "You stupid man," he hissed. "Do you have any idea what Regina is capable of? Who do you think locked Belle up in the first place? She can easily kill Belle without a second thought. If she knows that I have my memories, she'll do whatever possible to use your daughter against me."
"I'll tell you everything I know—if you promise to stay away from Belle."
"Absolutely not."
"Then tell her the truth—that you've killed thousands of people in cold blood. See if she stays with you after that."
Rumplestiltskin stared at the man in front of him for a moment. This man was most certainly not the idiot he had expected.
"It is the truth, isn't it?" Moe French asked. Rumplestiltskin didn't respond. While the number of people he had killed wasn't quite in the thousands, he doubted that triviality would matter much to Belle. The moment he told her, she would go. "If you don't tell her, I will. I haven't done it before because I knew you'd deny it if you didn't remember. But now I know that you won't."
"Mr. French," Rumplestiltskin said with a smile, even though he was seething on the inside. He had never expected his plans to manipulate Belle's father would backfire, and that French would end up being the manipulator. Rumplestiltskin rarely made mistakes, but this would be one of the few. "It appears that I have grossly underestimated your intelligence. I do hope that we can be allies. I will take your deal and tell Belle that I have killed in the past—without revealing anything of our other land, of course—and you will tell me everything you know about the curse."
"It's a deal. What do you want to know?" French asked.
"Everything," Rumplestiltskin hissed. "Starting with when you found out about it."
"Ten years. A man came into my shop and told me that my daughter was alive and in the hospital."
"Which man?"
"His name was Jefferson. He told me that the curse was weak that day. I didn't know what he was talking about, but he explained that the Evil Queen had cast a curse that brought all of us to this world."
Rumplestiltskin nodded. Jefferson… of course. If only he had tried to find the Hatter before coming to Moe French. "Which day was it?"
"What?"
"The day that Jefferson found you. What was the date?"
"I don't remember. Sometime in August, maybe."
"You had to have gotten paperwork from the hospital when they let Belle out. I need you to find out the exact date."
"Now?"
"Yes."
"Give me a few minutes. It's locked up in the back."
Rumplestiltskin wandered around the shop as he waited, looking at all of the floral arrangements, trying to figure out what Belle would like. He wondered if he should purchase something for her to soften the blow when he revealed his true self to her.
No, there was no point—a silly floral arrangement couldn't make up for what he would be revealing to her. It would be more practical for him to pack her bags, to save her the time and trouble when she left.
"July thirtieth, two thousand one." Rumplestiltskin nodded, not surprised that it was Henry Mills' birthdate.
"Do you know how she ended up in the mental ward?" Rumplestiltskin asked, even though he had a pretty good idea of the answer.
"Nope. But she had no memories, didn't even know her own name. Belle spent the entire first month back dealing with nightmares. Of you." His voice was accusing.
"I never hurt your daughter—not in this world or the other," he said through gritted teeth. At least not physically, he thought. He knew that he had hurt her emotionally in the other world. Moe scowled at him and he changed the subject. "What else do you know?"
"We can't leave the town. And some days I forget about my true past. I wake up thinking I'm Moe French, florist."
French had nothing else to tell him—and what he had already said was of little use. Rumplestiltskin found himself regretting revealing himself to him; because of this mistake, he could no longer selfishly keep Belle by his side. In the other world, she might have accepted him even knowing all of the horrors of his past, but in this one, she would not. At least until the curse broke.
"How are you so sure that I won't kill you now that you've told me everything I need to know?" Rumplestiltskin asked flippantly before leaving. French looked taken aback, and Rumplestiltskin relished the fright in his eyes. After a moment of watching the man squirm, Rumplestiltskin laughed. "Fear not, dearie, that was just a quip."
Rumplestiltskin left the store, pleased with himself for having the last word, but not much pleased with anything else. He had promised French that he would tell Belle the truth; however, he hadn't mentioned a date. He could easily wait a few days or a few months, or even until the curse broke to tell her.
However, he knew that he had the option to be brave and good, or selfish and cowardly. This time he had to do what Belle would do in his situation, what Bae would do. For once in his life he had to do the brave thing.
She arrived in the shop at twelve thirty, her eyes bright with excitement. She started talking about her encounter with Emma Swan, the town's newest inhabitant and Rumplestiltskin briefly wondered if he and Belle would have been happy, had Emma never arrived.
He knew the answer—the curse would have eventually torn them apart. The only chance they would have would be if Emma Swan did her job.
"Belle," he said interrupting her. "I have something to tell you."
"What is it, Adrian?"
He picked up the keys to the store, walked to the door and locked it, turning the sign to Closed. It wouldn't do to be interrupted. He didn't bother taking the keys out of the door, knowing that she would probably want to get out as soon as she possibly could after he told her.
He took her hand without saying a word, then led her into the back room, to the sofa where they had first made love.
She watched him in worry for a full minute as he struggled to come up with words. Finally he spoke. "Belle, you should know that many years before I met you, I was not a nice man. I did many horrible and unspeakable things."
"Adrian, whatever you've done, it's over now. You told me that you'd accept me no matter what happened in the past, and I'll do the same for you." She took his hand and began rubbing her thumb against his palm.
"Belle," he began, then looked at the love in her eyes, savoring it for a moment. He would never see it again. He opened his mouth and it took a minute to form the words. "Belle," he said again, his voice shaking. "I-I'm a murderer. I've killed people."
Her hand froze against his and she could only stare at him in shock.