If he'd enjoyed his days before Belle, he couldn't remember why.

He awoke at seven. Showered, dressed. Cooked himself a meager breakfast, which typically consisted of a piece or two of honeyed toast and a pot of tea that he brought down to the shop with him and nibbled on over the course of the morning. The tea typically went cold long before he could finish it, and around noon he made a brief trip upstairs to make a fresh pot and scrounge up lunch; usually a plate of cold cuts and cheese or something equally simple that he brought back down to the shop. He then did paperwork, dealing with customers and tenants and fielding calls for deals, picking at his meal in his free time until three when he left to collect rent from his tenants.

He typically returned around five; idly working on paperwork or entertaining himself with fixing some broken bauble from the hefty backlog in his storeroom until seven, when the store was supposed to close. He then broke his old, pre-Belle routine by wandering around the store, finding things that needed his attention, loitering and finding reasons to keep the shop open until eight thirty. That was when Belle walked by his shop on her way home.

The first few days, she stopped in for a quick chat about their day, trading stories before, stifling a yawn, she'd excuse herself, and it took all of his chivalry to gently chastise her about dropping in if she was tired. Every day for the week after that, he could see the exhaustion in the way she carried herself when she came into view, and he resigned himself to simply exchanging little smiles and waves through the glass before she continued on her way, frustrated that Regina was somehow finding ways to drain Belle's seemingly bottomless energy in what he'd heard was a meticulously clean home.

Even when she was too busy to stop in, it lightened his heart that she cared enough to look in on him, knowing that she was okay despite how much it was killing him to not go outside and meet her; inquire about her day, ask her in for tea or maybe dinner. See if she was sleeping well, if her nightmares had gone away now that she was safe at home, or if she woke up and missed him keeping her warm in the middle of the night.

He didn't realize how attached he'd become to his brief, eight-thirty appointments with Belle until he missed one a week after they'd begun the ritual. He'd been downtown, finally getting his appointment to see the property being sold on the main strip, and it had slipped his mind.

Having never met the man who owned the property before, Gold took an instant dislike to him and his business. The proprietor of the small gift and floral shop; a large, watery-eyed man just past his prime who simply went by Moe, had watched Gold enter with wariness from behind the counter, eyeing Gold as if he were a disease ridden animal crossing his threshold rather than the potential and only buyer of his property, and things had only gotten worse after the first impression. They'd taken an instant dislike to each other, and after two hours of arguments and getting nowhere Gold had written an amount on the back of one of his cards, pushed it into the man's palm, and told him to call him when he was ready to sign paperwork. He'd then left in a flourish, ignoring the angry calls at his back.

The man was lucky Gold waited until he was out of his shop to glance at the time, because he was half-certain that if he'd realized eight-thirty had come and gone without seeing Belle while in his presence, he'd have killed the man.

His malicious thoughts towards the man had eased, however, when after calling it an early night and waking up far earlier than usual the next morning, he wandered out of his shop at sunrise to pick up breakfast at Granny's and saw a familiar shape trudging through the twilight towards him.

"Belle," He called, breaking her reverie. He was pleased when her surprised expression gave way to a wide grin that matched his own.

"Gold!" She cried, hurrying through the pre-dawn fog towards him. "What are you doing up so early?"

"I thought I'd go get breakfast at Granny's," He replied, perking up. "Would you like to come?"

"Can't," She replied, smiling and looking contrite. "Regina's. But Granny's is on my way. I'll walk with you."

"You go to Regina's at sunrise?" He asked as he matched her stride, his cane making a harmonious clicking on the pavement with their footfalls. "Doesn't she give you any time to find work?"

"I have Sundays off." She replied, and when he glanced over she looked just as concerned as he felt. "I dropped off resumes last weekend to every single store I could walk to, but I haven't heard back from any of them yet." She laughed nervously, running her hands through her chestnut curls before giving him an anxious stare, her tone just short of the humor she was striving for. "Apparently there isn't a whole lot of work for someone with no prior experience, but I'm still trying."

He could tell by the way her shoulders slumped that he didn't need to remind her of the consequences that failing to pay Regina back would bring, and instead tugged her cold hand from her face to squeeze reassuringly.

"I'm sure you'll find something." He mumbled, trying to sound comforting.

They walked the rest of the way to Granny's trading companionable albeit awkward chatter, and he finally amused her by telling her about his adventures with the man the night before. Granny's came all too soon, and when she stopped at the door with him he was tempted to just give up on breakfast and walk her the rest of the way to Regina's, reluctantly abandoning the idea when he realized what kind of damage a trek that long would cause on his knee.

He wanted to kiss her, to pull her into a tight embrace and press his lips unabashedly against hers, but a single glance towards the windows of the diner showed they were already garnering the attention of the few patrons awake this early; the handful of people inside were leaning together and murmuring behind their coffee cups as they stared, one woman very pointedly touching her wedding ring as she nudged her husband and nodded towards them. He watched a blush rise on Belle's cheeks, her fingers mechanically touching the same band of silver on her finger and fidgeting with it as she squirmed.

"Should go," She murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before giving him a little one armed squeeze. "I'll—uhm. I'll see you later, Gold."

He sauntered inside once she'd disappeared around the corner, his dark glare roving over the diner, but no one met his eye. It wasn't until he was settled in at the back, tucking into his breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and sausage that he realized Belle hadn't been embarrassed to be seen with him in public the first time two times they'd come here, and he spent the rest of his meal wondering what to make of that new distinction.

The rest of the morning passed with torturous sluggishness, and he stifled a yawn as he finished up the work he'd been doing, ready to close up shop for a while to go upstairs and make himself lunch and a cup of coffee. He'd considered shutting down for a nap, but he was still unsettled by the events of that morning, wishing Belle hadn't been so uncomfortable to be seen with him, and he rejected the idea.

Word had obviously travelled about their day out together several weeks before, and people had stared, openly stared, the entire time he'd eaten that morning, only avoiding his gaze when he looked at them, and he'd had to swallow down the urge to check the mirror when he got home to make certain "I fucked an engaged Belle French" hadn't been tattooed on his forehead. It hadn't, he was certain, but it didn't stop him from rubbing unconsciously at his face as he reached the door to lock up for lunch.

The metal handle turned as he touched it, and he watched as the doorknob left his fingers and opened to reveal Emma.

"Sheriff Swan," He said blandly, ignoring the surprise on her face and the way she jumped at his unexpected proximity.

"Oh. Uh-Am I interrupting something?" The blonde asked, looking uncomfortable.

"Not at all," He said tiredly, stepping aside to let her in. "I was just about to have lunch."

"Oh, well, I won't keep you then." She said, stepping past him and into the shop, her gaze going immediately to the chairs pulled up beside the fireplace. "This will only take a minute."

"What do you need, Sheriff? Am I under arrest?" He asked dryly.

"I'm actually here to see Belle." She responded. "I was going to offer my help to get her things from the house if she needed an escort—are you okay?" She asked, and he realized too late that his face had twisted into pained scowl. He carefully blanked his expression.

"Thank you for your concern, Sheriff, but she isn't staying here." He said softly. "She went home."

"Oh," Emma said, the word trailing off awkwardly. "I'm—uh, I'm sorry to hear that."

"As am I." He responded bitterly, turning away from her. He was too exhausted by the situation to throw Emma out, and he hoped that her lack of reason to stay and his lack of interest would give her a hint.

"It wasn't about the bruises, was it? You two didn't fight because of what I said?" She asked, taking him by surprise, and it took him a moment to place her tone. She was concerned. Concerned? He shook his head.

"No." He said, wishing the issue was that simple. "It wasn't that."

"What happened?" She prodded, and he wasn't sure if it was his exhaustion with he and Belle's situation, his general anxiety, or if she'd actually managed to get under his skin, but he surprised himself by responding without thought.

"She's still wearing her engagement ring." He said tiredly. "We had a…falling out over it. We made up to a certain point, but word seems to have gotten out about us and she's…uncomfortable to be seen in public with me."

"Oh," Emma said, raising her eyebrows, looking just as surprised at hearing his confession as he was at uttering it. "Well, can you blame her?"

"Blame her?"

"For keeping the ring on, Gold."

He looked confused. She'd been the one to tease them over he and Belle's love marks the last time he'd seen her. "Miss Swan, you've had some sort of intuition since the beginning about what was going on between Belle and I. Don't act as if you don't understand the situation."

"I'm not." She said, frowning at him. "But maybe I'm seeing the situation more clearly than you are."

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, frustrated, before looking at the clock over her shoulder. His lunch breaks were usually no more than a few minutes, and he was now fifteen minutes into it. His instinct was to throw her out, to tell her it was none of her business and to go about her day, but he'd been feeling anxious about Belle since that morning and if this obnoxious, nosy woman had some insights, he had reached the point where he was willing to listen.

"Miss Swan, I need to make myself lunch. You're welcome to stay, but I need to reopen the shop."

"I have takeout from Granny's in the cruiser," She said, pointing over her shoulder with her thumb. "I'll split my burger with you. Reopen the shop."

He hesitated, watching her with wariness and calling out to her when she reached the door. "Emma, why are you helping me? Why do you care?"

She quirked an eyebrow at him, a hidden little smile playing on her lips. "You've lived up to your reputation and been a pain in the ass since I moved here, Gold, but I haven't heard a single peep of trouble from you since the Richard Blanc incident, and that's gotta be a record. If I can give you some insight about your girl that keeps you out of my hair for good, I'll gladly sacrifice my lunch hour to give it."

He dragged a spare stool over for Emma while she gathered their lunch, and they were settled on opposite sides of the glass display case where he normally sat. Emma hadn't even finished cutting the hamburger in half before Gold's grip on his temper frayed. He wasn't used to having to wait for answers, and the five minutes it had taken them to get settled had been too much for his tattered nerves.

"Why would you have a better insight into this than me?" He snapped at her, realizing that no matter how much he desired Emma's advice, his ability to be a tolerable meal companion applied only to the blue-eyed dream he needed advice about.

Emma raised her eyebrows at him, meeting his frustrated sarcasm with her own. She spoke slowly, as if he were mentally troubled.

"Well, let's see. A woman who has been engaged for forever goes through a nasty breakup, and then climbs into bed with you and you expect her to fall into your arms, tearing the ring off and declaring her undying love just because you two had sex?" She asked, taking a bite of her half of the hamburger and pushing the Styrofoam takeout box with his half towards him. "Am I missing anything, or do I need to explain why that's a ridiculous expectation?"

He gawked at her. "It isn't like that."

"That's what it looks like from over here." She said, quirking an eyebrow at him. "Has it never occurred to you that maybe she was terrified of being alone after living with someone for so long, and found herself with the chance to let off a little steam in a safe environment? You're obviously into her, Gold. You look at her like she's God's gift to the Earth. Have you told her how you feel?"

"She's wearing the ring." He protested, embarrassed that his feelings were so obvious. "And she refuses to tell me what's going on between herself and her fiancé. So no, of course not. Besides," He added, lowering his voice to a mumble as he poked at his half of the hamburger sullenly. "I don't think she feels that way about me."

"Look," She said, threading her fingers together and giving him a stern look. "The woman has had an incredibly long engagement. No matter what your expectations are, you need to be patient. She obviously has some feelings for you. You just need to give her time to figure out what those feelings are."

"I'm starting to get the impression that those feelings aren't the same as my own," He confessed. "She treats me like a friend. I don't know what to think when she's around."

"Yeah, maybe, but she still has those feelings. For you. Christ, Gold, she's probably twenty years your junior. How old is she? Twenty? Twenty five?"

Between his immortality and her cursed self, he had no idea how to measure either of their ages, and he didn't care. Years were meaningless to him, and so he shrugged off the comment without a thought.

"Look," She said when he made no move to comment. "I'm going to guess that relationships aren't something you find yourself in every day, so let me give you some advice."

She leaned in, speaking slowly and imparting the importance of her words with her tone. "I would bet against the idea that rebound sex is something a girl like Belle does with whoever is available. Whatever she feels, she picked you because she trusts you, and a beautiful girl like Belle trusting you in such a fragile state is reason enough to celebrate. She likes you well enough, Gold, she's just conflicted. Give her some space, foster her trust, and don't pressure her into making any fast decisions, and you never know what might happen. You need to be patient."

He disliked taking advice from her, but he had to admit that she at least seemed to know what she was talking about, and he hated her for the truth in her words.

"Oh." He said simply as he absorbed her words, wondering how his mind could feel clearer than it had in a month yet at the same time feel full to bursting. Emma was right; he was a fool because of course he fucking was. In her eyes, he'd probably seemed okay with their lack of emotional commitment, creating a safe environment with no strings attached until he'd touched her ring. He'd thought she had been using him, but in reality she'd probably been oblivious to an issue until he'd rejected her advances, scaring her off with his need for reassurance. He felt like an idiot.

Emma was brushing the crumbs of her hamburger from her lips and Gold was still lost in his thoughts when the bell above the door chimed, and Gold had to crane his head around Emma to see who had come in.

"I must have missed the invitation," Regina purred as she ghosted over to the two of them, giving them each a smug little look. "Or have I interrupted something private?"

"Regina," Gold said at the same time Emma snarled, "Madam Mayor," and the two of them looked at each other before returning their gazes to Regina.

"Mr. Gold," She said with an air of overpleasant sweetness. Regina then gave Emma an icy look. "Miss Swan, don't you have some cats to retrieve from trees, or something? Go make yourself scarce. I need to speak with Mr. Gold."

"That would be the Fire Department," Emma retorted, her words dripping with tense sarcasm. "My job is saving the townspeople from threats like you, Madam Mayor, so unless Mr. Gold has a problem, I think I'll stay and finish my lunch."

Regina gave her a bland look, pursing her lips when Gold made no indication that Emma should leave. "Suit yourself." She faltered for only a moment before she turned to Gold, a smirk slowly crossing her face as she crossed her arms. He could see it written on her face; the indecision of whether or not to ignore Emma or leave without preening about whatever it was she'd come for, and that gave him an idea.

"What do you want, Regina?" He asked with feigned tiredness, amused that whatever thing she'd come to gloat about didn't seem to be something she could discuss in front of Emma.

"I just wanted to come and see how you were doing," She replied easily. "Haven't seen you around in a few days." She hinted, her pouty little smile growing on her face despite her previous indecision.

His lip curled up, baring his teeth at her, pleased as he realized her mistake. If she was hedging, that meant she didn't want Emma to know what was going on with Belle, which gave him unexpected power over the situation. They had many unspoken agreements about things that weren't discussed in front of others, and it was with uncharacteristic glee that he realized the current situation didn't fall into any of them. He had free reign to drag Regina through the mud, and he felt a glimmer of his old self awaken, stretching out like a languid predator in his mind before fixing his attention on the conversation with interest.

"Now now, Regina." He purred, swallowing a little titter of laughter that would probably scare poor Emma out of her skin to hear coming from him. "Let's not keep my guest in the dark." Regina's eyes widened marginally, lips parting as he turned to Emma. "Our lady mayor tricked poor Belle into working for her for free for the foreseeable future." He turned back to Regina, his smirk fading into a dark stare.

"Wait, what?" Emma asked, standing and looking to Regina. "That can't be legal."

"It was an agreed upon deal," Regina replied easily as she stared him down, but a twitch in her lip betrayed her fury. "She wasn't pressured into anything, Sheriff, so I suggest you mind your own business and stay out of this."

Emma looked between Regina and Gold, wearing the expression he'd learned typically meant trouble from the blonde, and some tiny part of his conscience felt bad for using her to get at Regina. He ignored it with ease, raising his eyebrows.

"Wasn't she? You took her fiancé off the lease and gave Belle no warning whatsoever that she was expected to pay rent. You know the girl is unemployed; you were more than happy to remind her when you two met. You expect the girl to work, from sunrise until eight at night, and find the time for a job to pay you back?"

He could see Emma getting wound up in his peripheral vision as he spelled out the deal he wasn't able to change, glad that she was so easily flustered. It was a shame that the blonde wasn't better at hiding her emotions, because he'd heard tale of her many battles with Regina, and he suspected she'd have won some of them if it wasn't for her terrible poker face.

"There is nothing illegal about that." Regina protested, and he was pleased that she was ignoring Emma. "The girl agreed to it."

Emma's hands twisted into fists at her side. "There has to be. You can't just do something like that. Belle is a good kid."

Regina finally turned and gave Emma her full attention, her patience fraying.

"There is nothing illegal about that." She drawled again.

"Well now, wait a moment." Gold said, swallowing yet another gleeful giggle. It was just so nice to see Regina backed into a corner. "I'm sure if Emma dug out the law books and looked hard enough she could find something.."

"Enough." Regina said, pursing her lips again and fixing him with a cool stare, clearly having no interest in being bothered by Emma for the near future. "What do you want, Gold?"

Emma made a noise of protest, but both he and Regina immediately ignored it. Emma was the law, but he and Regina were a class unto themselves, and this was between them now. It was a dance they'd both been at for countless years, and he knew the steps well enough to know by the look on Regina's face that he no longer needed to use Emma to get what he wanted.

"Drop the deal." He said easily.

"That isn't going to happen." She replied coldly. "She owes me."

"You asked what I wanted." He rumbled, and they glared at one another. "That's my price."

"No deal. Your price is too high, Gold."

"Then give her time to find a job." Emma demanded, and the two of them looked to her in surprise, as if she'd just appeared there. "That's fair. If you really want her to pay you back, then you need to give her days to actually go looking for one."

"Smart woman," Gold replied before looking to Regina. "That's a sad second, but acceptable." He fixed her with a cold stare. "And when she does get a job, you need to work with whatever hours she's given."

"Fine." Regina snarled before sliding back behind her cool reserve again. "The girl will have time during the day to go find a job."

He held out a hand, and he could feel her anger when they shook on it, but she hid it well.

"Deal. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend to." She raised her chin, looking down her nose at the two of them before gracefully turning to leave. She took a few steps before hesitating and beginning to turn, opening her mouth to speak with what he was certain was a cutting remark.

"I'll see you out." Emma said abruptly, cutting off whatever quip was on Regina's lips. She stood and put her hand on Regina's back to keep her from stopping, and he was impressed that Emma didn't flinch in the slightest when Regina turned and gave her a withering look that could have flayed flesh from bone. Regina roughly shrugged off her hand when they got to the door, sauntering out of sight, and Emma turned and shared a secret little smirk with him.

He was immediately impressed with the blonde. As much as Belle was his intellectual and linguistic match, Emma seemed to be Regina's, and it amused him that the Sheriff was able to completely defeat Madam Mayor when given the proper tools.

"Try to keep my advice about Belle in mind." She said, and he nodded, watching her shut the door behind herself.

Finally all alone, he placed his palms together and let out the gleeful little titter of a laugh he'd been holding, payment enough for awakening Rumplestiltskin from his repressed slumber. He and Belle's situation was precarious but apparently hopeful, Regina had been bested at her own game for once, and it felt good to relax and let his old self creep back in, if only for a moment.


He practically strutted around his shop the rest of the afternoon, his polished shoes and cane echoing on the hardwood floor as he paced. He'd tried doing paperwork, but the nervous energy that had been released during his discussion with Emma and victory over Regina made him restless, and he'd begun wandering about his shop, picking up this, moving that, and the place was positively a mess by the time he'd calmed his nerves.

Dust motes floated lazily through the air, pretty in the way they caught the light streaming through the drapes but making him cough and sneeze, and he finally relented by opening the shop door to let in air that had a bite of winter to it so that he could dust. He'd worked on the painfully boring chore for half an hour before giving up and dragging his armchair back to the fireplace, coaxing a small fire out of the remaining logs and making himself a pot of tea. As he relaxed he found he rather enjoyed the comfort of a warm chair, legs stretched out before him with his feet propped on the hearth and a cup of hot tea in his hands. A man could get used to such small pleasures, and he wondered why it had taken him so long to make use of the fixture.

He was content to watch the light change outside, enjoying the way the cold air from the open door made being beside the fire even more pleasant, and was glad when the remaining hours of the day passed inconsequentially without a single visitor.

It was eight thirty on the dot when Belle walked by, coming inside without hesitation and heading for him. She was beautiful in the firelight, though he couldn't help but be concerned that she was cold; dressed in the short yellow dress he liked so much, but he drank in the sight of her as she approached him, certain he'd never get enough of her even if they both lived an eternity.

"Hello, Gold," She purred at him, and he was surprised when she settled herself in his lap.

"Hello to you too, sweetheart," He replied, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her. "I can retrieve your chair, if you like. I moved it when I was cleaning."

"I like this spot better." She said, leaning down and pressing her lips against him without preamble, her fingers trailing through his hair. His bones melted, his hands resting tenderly on her upper arms, and he was dazed and feeling strange when she leaned back, a look of shocked glee on her innocent face as she studied him.

"What's happening?" He asked, the off-feeling growing as he watched a grin split her beautiful face.

"Kiss me again," She said, taking one of her hands in his. "It's working!"

"What is?" He mumbled. His mind felt full of fog, his words tumbling from his lips in a slur as he tried to get a proper look at her.

She leaned in, blue eyes alight with pure joy as she spoke, whispering as if she were sharing a precious secret with him. "Any curse can be broken."

She was on the floor before he could think, and he was gawking at the patches of green, scaly texture shimmering on his hands.

No! He howled, writhing inside his own mind as the scene played out, but he was helpless. Frozen, trapped inside his own body, forced to watch as the joy in her eyes was replaced by shock.

"Who told you that!?" His voice commanded, the accent and sounding strange upon his lips, and he could feel the rage burning inside him at the terror blooming in her eyes.

Finally, he thought to himself in that same high-pitched voice. She sees the beast for who he is. "Who knows that?!"

Rage was making him quake, tensing the muscles in his arms as he made fists. The rage was shaking him, down to his bones, and the scene swam as he stalked over to her, dragging her roughly up by her arms as he shouted, but the words were incomprehensible among all the fury. Shaking, shouting..really shaking him. Someone was shaking him, and Belle looked up at him, her eyes narrowing as she opened her mouth and shouted at him.

"Gold! Wake up!"

He drew a ragged, panicked gasp as he opened his eyes, eyes wild as he took in his surroundings. They were in the was leaning over him in the same worn jeans and baby blue sweater she'd been wearing that morning, her fingers digging into his shoulder with enough force to bruise, shaking him one last time as if to make sure he was awake, the fear in her eyes cutting him to the marrow as she watched him.

"Gold." She gasped, searching his eyes. "Jesus Christ, are you alright?"

"W-What?" He asked, relieved that his voice was his own again, looking around the room in a panic as he tried to catch his breath. It was dark outside, the fire down to embers that flared into flame every few seconds, and the air in the shop was freezing despite the now closed door. It wasn't until she touched his hand that he looked down and realized his hands were clenched around the armrests so hard that his fingers were numb, and as he relaxed them he could feel his whole body was humming with the same tension.

I haven't had that nightmare in years, He thought to himself, shaken. It had been so real. Before, it had always been the same old scene, but it had changed. It hadn't been his innocent little Belle in his arms, it had been her.

"You were screaming like someone was killing you," She said, brushing his hair back with the back of her hand. Her voice trembled as she spoke, and he could feel her hands shaking against his forehead. "I could hear you down the street, and when the door was open…you looked like you were possessed, like you were about to snap yourself in half with the way you were thrashing about. Are you alright?"

"M'fine." He replied shakily, trying unsuccessfully to force his breathing and heartbeat back to a regular pace. "Nightmare, that's all."

"No shit." She replied, and she steadied him against her when he stood a moment later and wobbled. "Jesus, Gold, you're freezing." She hissed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and leading him up the stairs. "How long have you been down here?"

"I don't know," He replied, disoriented. "What time is it?"

"Midnight." She said, cursing when his sleep-clumsy feet tripped and nearly sent them both tumbling down the stairs.

"Midnight?"

She dragged him to his couch once they'd successfully ascended the stairs, sitting beside him. Her blue eyes searched his, concern etched onto her features as she ran a hand through his hair. He shuddered, pulling away from her fingers and clenching his eyes shut, haunted by the similar phantom touch of his dream.

"Gold?" Her voice was tense, and he just shook his head, biting the inside of his cheek and forcing his hands not to shake. When he couldn't dispel the terror of the nightmare by sheer force of will, he changed tactics and forced himself to concentrate on the present.

"What are you doing outside at midnight, Belle?" He asked, forcing his hands to unclench.

"Going home," She replied, looking surprised when he opened his eyes and looked at her. "Why?"

"Where were you until midnight?"

"Regina's." She responded, and that worked. The fear in his veins was replaced in an instant by rage, but Belle cut him off before he could vocalize it. "She was out until late, and her son was all alone in that big house. It was fine, Gold, really. I wanted to stay. Henry is such a sweet boy."

He stared at her, gawking as if he'd never seen her before. She was a slave to the woman with the blackest heart in Storybrooke, and yet she'd volunteered to stay and watch her boy because she didn't want him all alone in the house. If they had ten eternities to spend together, he was sure she'd still continue to surprise him.

"I see." Was all he could manage once he found his voice again, but it was enough. The tension that had built in her body at his anger disappeared, and she gave him a hesitant little smile that he returned in kind.

They sat in silence for a minute, and as the rage drained from his muscles, fatigue took its place, and between his nightmare, getting up so early, and the drama of that morning he was suddenly beyond exhausted. He leaned against the arm of the sofa, trying to keep his thoughts from scattering in his empty mind. If he fell asleep, she would leave, and they'd be back to trading waves through the windows of his store. She didn't seem to be making any indications of wanting to leave, though, and that left him hopeful.

But she needed to leave, his tired mind argued to him. He needed to be patient with her, like Emma had said. He needed to not push demands on her. Didn't he?

But you also need to be accepting, He reminded himself. You also need tell her what's going on rather than let her get the wrong impression. You need to take charge.

Is it being demanding to let her stay without argument if she wants to?

It was too many rules, he decided woozily. He didn't know how to juggle being patient and accepting while at the same time keeping her from assuming the wrong things about his intentions. It made his tired head hurt to even begin, so he just sat there suspended somewhere between being awake and asleep, mind full and yet empty, and in his peripheral vision he could see her sitting beside him patiently, watching him with an unfathomable expression as he fought to stay awake.

"Are you okay?" She asked with soft concern after a few minutes, tentatively touching his temple with her fingertips. When he didn't flinch away from her touch, she carded her fingers gently through his hair. "You look like your mind is working overtime."

His voice was a tired mumble when he spoke, turning his head so he could watch her through the shimmering haze of his vision. "M'trying to solve a puzzle."

"Oh?" She asked, and there was soft amusement in her voice. "Tell me about this puzzle."

"Need to be patient," He heard himself say, but his voice sounded distant in his ears. "Think you should go. Don't want you to."

There was a pause that he couldn't begin to measure the length of before she spoke.

"Well…what do you want?" She asked, her soothing tone caressing his very soul. Her fingers were so soft in his hair, the last of his willpower draining from him as his eyes slid shut.

"Stay," Was all he could manage to reply before sleep took him.


The recurring nightmare had been terrible; breaking him apart on the inside, but it at least had been somewhat expected. For Belle to be this Belle, for it to happen in this world, was terrifying and cruel and sharp, as if his subconscious had found new ways to torture him by using his recent and short-lived happiness against him in new yet old ways. It had shaken him to his core, leaving him empty and raw on the inside, and it had hurt.

If the nightmare had left him raw, the dream afterward had been salt on the wound.

He wasn't even half-awake, but he hated himself for that second dream. It was creative in ways the first wasn't; completely new, playing on his emotions. She had been the knight, rushing in and saving him from his demons after so long apart, playing with his hair and asking him about puzzles as if nothing had occurred between them.

His longing for her was becoming pathetic. Honestly, as if she'd just waltz inside, take control of the situation and then have the nerve to ask him what he wanted, as if—oh. Something brushed against his calf, stirring him from his thoughts, and he paused in his mental rant as something silky soft moved against his cheek. He roused himself enough to press his face towards the softness, and was rewarded with a quiet sigh that was far too feminine to be his. Oh. Oh.

His mind changed tactics in an instant, and he retracted all of his qualms about the second dream. If it was salt in his wounds, he'd gladly take it, and he clung to the frayed strands of his slumber, desperately trying to stay in this dream. He was on his back, and could feel her pressed tightly against his side, and as he very slowly stretched out his fingers and toes he realized they were on the couch, his couch, and by the feel of it, they were taking up every last inch of the thing. The dream slipped through his fingers, and as he blinked an eye open he was left with the realization that it had been no conjuration of his mind.

After a week apart, Belle was warm and alive and very, very real beside him.

Slowly, as if the mere act of looking at her would shatter the peace, he drifted his eyes over her form. She was completely at ease, her chestnut curls cascading down her back and neck. One of his pant legs was tugged up around his knee, and her foot was idly stroking his hair-roughened calf as she slept. One of her arms was curled protectively across her chest, pinned between them, and the other was draped loosely down her side, her fingers resting on her hip. He couldn't see her face, but he could feel it, her nose pressed against his jaw and her forehead resting on his temple. Her breath was warm on his neck, slow and steady, and the feel of it was comforting in a way nothing had been in a long, long time.

He'd woken up to her several times in their brief history, but in that moment he knew that with his arm wrapped around her shoulders, protectively keeping her from falling off the couch in the limited space, and her so completely relaxed and unguarded against him, it was the most intimate embrace they'd shared.

I should have asked her to go, He thought to himself as he traced her form with his eyes. He wouldn't trade her being beside him for anything in the world, but he would bet anything that once she woke up, she'd retract from him, and he couldn't blame her. He understood now she wasn't using him on purpose; wasn't repulsed by the realization that in her weakness during the night she'd curled up against him for comfort. Besides, he had been the one to ask her to stay.

She stirred against him, breaking him from his thoughts, and he gently tightened his hold on her shoulders to keep her from tumbling unceremoniously from the couch and onto the floor. She made a quiet noise in her throat, nuzzling his cheek with her nose, and he couldn't help but smile. The couch was on the verge of being uncomfortable with them both on it now that he was awake, but he had no inclination to move, and he watched as she slowly rose from sleep, her legs stretching out in the limited space, her left arm moving from her thigh to drape across his chest instead. He gently traced his nails along her arm from elbow to wrist with his free hand, eliciting a pleased noise from her, and he ran his fingertips along the back of her hand to the end of each nail in turn, trying to commit the sensation of her soft skin beneath his fingers to memory.

She made a soft sound of enjoyment at his touch, settling against his side again, and he wasn't sure if she was awake or not as he idly repeated the pattern. Elbow, wrist, knuckles, fingertips…, His eyes unfocused as they followed the path of his fingers as he went. Elbow, wrist, knuckles, fingertips..

He'd made the circuit half a dozen times and was starting again when his eyes suddenly focused, staring at her shoulder as his fingers continued the pattern. His heart began to pound as he traced. Elbow, wrist, knuckle, fingertip. Wrist, knuckle, fingertip, wrist, knuckle…

He finished the circuit and started again quickly at her wrist in disbelief, his eyes frozen as he stared hard at her arm, unwilling and unable to drag his gaze down to her hand that he'd just traced unimpeded. Her left hand.

He abandoned his tracing, taking his whole hand and placing it over hers, wondering how his stomach could simultaneously feel as if it were hiding in his feet and trying to climb out his throat at the same time. He didn't realize he was pressing his trembling fingers against each of hers in turn, searching, until her sleep-softened voice interrupted his frantic thoughts.

"It's not there." She said quietly, sounding amused despite herself. "No matter how thoroughly you search."

He still couldn't bring himself to look down at her hand, so he turned his head and looked at her face. She was watching him from behind her curls, her eyes sleepy but attentive. There was a secret little smile teasing the corner of her lips, and he stared at her as he searched each of her fingers, one last time, just to be sure.

"It isn't there." He said, disbelief evident In his voice.

She smiled at him, her voice a gentle whisper as she replied, "Told you so."


That last little bit of the chapter had me grinning the entire time I wrote it. It felt good to finally end a chapter on a super pleasant note. Please let me know what you think! :D