Disclaimer: As you can probably tell from the fact I'm writing fanfiction, I don't own Once Upon a Time or any of its characters.
Alternate Disclaimer of Ignorance: I don't know anything about computer hacking or fixing cars; please excuse my ignorance if it is on full display. This is why Kit does basic things that are pretty common knowledge even to people like me; you'll have to just imagine her doing incredibly awesome pro stuff off-screen.
Kit Pettigrew was no stranger to trouble. She was on a first name basis with Principal Poppins. Sheriff Graham had gone from "Miss Pettigrew, I need to speak to you about something" to "What did you do now, Kit?". She hadn't met Emma yet, but she was sure it was only a matter of time. Her and Mrs. Shoemaker even had a nod so she wouldn't have to say "Kit, you need to go to the office" every other day.
It had been over a week since Mrs. Shoemaker had given her the nod; she figured if Gold caught wind of anything he'd make her sorry for whatever she had done. It caught Kit off guard when she received the nod and, for the first time, had absolutely no idea what she was in trouble for.
Kit felt like a bundle of nerves, an uncommon feeling for entering the main office. Her heart double-timed when she saw Mrs. Gold sitting patiently in one of the chairs, rising as Kit came in.
"Come on," she said brusquely, and Kit gave a helpless glance at Doris, the secretary. Doris just shrugged cluelessly.
Kit thought she was going to climb a frickin' wall by the time they got to Mrs. Gold's truck. The silent, unusually stern face melted as she grinned at Kit.
"I didn't even have to give them an excuse," she bragged.
Kit stared at her, "So…I'm not in trouble?"
"Of course not," she laughed, shaking her head and starting the truck, "We're just playing hooky."
Kit didn't think it was possible for Rose to be any cooler, but she just got cooler.
"So we have Mr. Gold's credit card and explicit instructions to go crazy with clothes shopping…so long as you don't pick out anything inappropriate." Figures. Oh well; even Kit couldn't object to a shopping spree on someone else's dime.
The intermediate con-girl had spent her time in captivity studying Storybrooke's most enigmatic couple. She couldn't figure out his deal; most thieves who dared to try anything were usually lucky to be able to stand when he got through with them. But for some reason he had just decided to demean and change her. Problem was…she didn't entirely mind. Maybe it was his loose code of ethics, or maybe Kit just downright admired the pimp-like Scottish Godfather. Whatever it was, it made her uncomfortable that he had that power over her, and uncomfortable that she was somewhat okay with it.
The pimp-like Scottish Godfather's wife was almost a 180 to his aloof and brazen self. Mrs. Gold was flushed with excitement, content with just critiquing Kit's choices, giving advice or rejecting "distasteful" clothes. Rosaline seemed to have this glow to her, something that drew people in with hopes of basking in it. Kit loved that glow; it made her want to curl up into it and surrender control… But she was fourteen. She didn't need anyone... Not even Rose.
Laden with bags and the thrill of a successful hunt, Belle decided to end their outing with lunch at Granny's. Kit had been in turn more talkative and quieter than Belle had ever seen her; opening and closing like a revolving door she had to jump in time to get through. But the light that came on in her eyes when Belle declared a top "perfect"…
"Yanno, I'm kind of pissed at Ashley now."
Belle was startled into the present, glancing at Kit, "What?"
"You know, the bitch who wouldn't give you a baby."
Ruby shot a glare towards the back of Kit's head. Belle averted her eyes, "She decided to keep her daughter. It's perfectly legitimate."
"No, it's a crime to deprive you of a baby. I mean, you totally need to be a mother; you're too awesome not to be."
Belle smiled, "Thank you, Kit."
"So why don't you have kids?" She asked, sipping at her cola. Belle sighed.
"Sometimes things just happen… Circumstances won't allow you to do whatever you want to do."
The adolescent pursed her lips, "So which is it, bum ovaries or dead swimmers?"
"Kit!" She looked innocently at Belle and Belle flushed, "That's not an appropriate conversation…here or otherwise."
"He shoots blanks, got it."
Kit paused as Ruby brought them their orders, trying not to listen in on their conversation about issues of fertility. Kit munched on her fries while Belle picked at her salad, praying that no one would start a rumor that Mr. Gold's broken set was the reason behind their lack of offspring. It had been true once upon a time…but did the removal of his curse mean the removal of his sterility? Did the Dark Curse hinder any attempts at creating life until it was fully broken?
"This isn't the Middle Ages, though," Kit continued, "There's things you two can do to get a bun in the oven. They can put your egg and his sperm in a dish, whip them together like a baby omelet, and then stick it back inside your belly so it grows. Hell, I'm sure some hormone therapy crap can bring his swimmers back to life…"
Belle could not believe she was having this conversation.
She brushed a lock of her hair back and cleared her throat, "As much as I want a baby, I can't bring myself to try something like that," she bit her lip, "Life is…a miracle, this precious bit of magic that happens when and how it happens. To tamper with it, play god…it feels wrong."
There was magic in this land, Belle knew, but only the very basic kind. True love. Faith. Hope. Conception and birth. Witnessing deal after deal, hearing Rumplestiltskin's warning time after time, Belle was hesitant to accept any interference of nature. Science was not magic, but that didn't mean there wasn't a price tag.
Kit stared at her, "…what are you, some backwoods Christian? Not believing in dabbling in the divine or some other silly crap?"
Belle shook her head, "I just have my reasons, is all."
Kit bit into her burger, "Well hopefully those reasons don't keep you from having a kid. I think your pimp will even start acting gentler, if he had a Gold Junior he had to behave in front of."
She hoped so.
They paid the bill and left Granny's. Kit stopped dead in her tracks on the sidewalk, staring across the street.
"Now who is that?" She purred. Belle followed her gaze.
A man dressed in a black trench coat made his way out of a store with a single bag, head bent as if determined to move invisibly through the town. A scarf was wrapped snugly around his neck, a frown pulling the corners of his mouth down. Belle pursed her lips.
"That's Jefferson, probably going through his mandatory errands on his once-a-week trip into town."
"Jefferson, like the band? That's hot."
Before Belle could fully recover from "Jefferson" and "hot" being in the same context, Kit had darted across the street.
"Kit!" She yelled, running after her.
"Hey…"
Jefferson glanced up and stopped, the girl the Golds were cohabitating with in front of him. He wasn't used to people talking to him due to the rumors of how he was fresh out of the asylum, and so it took him a moment to respond.
"Hello…"
"Do you have a mirror in your pocket?" She asked, smiling sweetly.
He furrowed his eyebrows at the question, "No, why?"
She grinned lewdly, "Because I could totally see myself in your pants."
"KIT!"
Belle grabbed the girl by the arm and yanked her away from Jefferson. Kit gave an indignant yowl, "Hey!"
"What are you doing?!"
"Flirting!"
"He has a daughter that's almost your age!"
"You have no right to talk about age gaps."
"You're a child; I have all the right in the world to keep you from hitting on grown men!" Belle turned and flashed him an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry, Jefferson; we're still teaching her how to behave in public."
Jefferson smirked, "It's fine, Belle. I know she's a bit…enthusiastic."
Belle raised an eyebrow, "You knew her?"
He nodded, "Different name, same pain in the neck."
"Wait, why did he call you Belle?" Kit caught on to their slip-up, shooting a glare at Belle, "Are you hitting on my man?! Because you already have one, so mind your own!"
"Come on," Belle muttered, dragging her away, "See you Thursday, Jefferson."
"Goodbye…and good luck," he added, watching the kitten squirm in the beauty's grasp.
It was things like this that made Jefferson hate going into town, running into old acquaintances that he didn't want to see. It wasn't Belle he was referring to; it was that mangy werecat that Regina had somehow made even more insufferable than before. Had Miss Pettigrew been more aware of whom she was and what she had done, he would have been able to act upon his instincts and beat the ever-loving shit out of her.
Alas, he couldn't bring himself to, not when she didn't realize why he would be beating her to the brink of death.
III
The Mirror was proof that love made fools of even the smartest of men. Hundreds of years of wish-granting went out the window when he met Regina, and he had been too blind to see the trap she had set. Even now, chained to her, he could not stop loving her.
If Regina's temperature came in degrees, he'd say she was lukewarm right now; not icily satisfied, nor fiery raging. She was irritated, and he was there for her.
"The prisoner won't succumb," she muttered, tapping a blood-red finger on her vanity, "I've tried everything from acid to whipping; still she will not break."
"Threatened her with her loved ones?" He offered.
"They want nothing to do with her, thinking she's been corrupted," she raked her fingers through her long hair, "One favor…one small favor and she could be a hero. But she's obstinate."
He had heard of this prisoner before of course; she had been in the tower for weeks tortured three times a day, four if Regina was in an especially foul mood. She wasn't usually so persistent with her victims; she offered them riches, they refused, she made them suffer, end of story. This ongoing pursuit meant this woman had something quite valuable to offer.
"But anything worth destroying takes effort, I suppose," she reached into her jewelry box, "Perhaps you can offer some insight while I offer her something that'll get under her skin."
She took out a small brooch of diamonds encircling a tiny looking glass, hastily fastening it to her breast. The Mirror instantly transferred his essence into it, trying not to think about where he was on her.
She ascended a winding stone staircase, though the Mirror only counted thirty out of the thousand or so steps (she must've teleported, and all without his notice). She paused to smooth her skirts before entering the chamber, the Mirror glancing around curiously for their number one inmate.
There was a girl hardly old enough to be a woman huddled into a corner, wearing only her own pale skin. Matted brown hair hung in her face before it jerked up, pale eyes staring up in terror.
"I'm in the mood for a game," Regina announced, "So I'll make my initial request quick; give Rumplestiltskin true love's kiss, and I will let you go. It's quite simple, really."
The woman's eyes went from fearful to hard as the stone around her, glaring at the Evil Queen, "I keep telling you, Your Majesty." Her voice was as cracked as her lips, but no less strong, "It won't work. He cast me out; he doesn't want me anymore."
"Of course he does," Regina insisted, "He's just too proud to admit it. Men are like that."
The woman continued to glare, "He. Doesn't. Love. Me."
Regina grabbed a fistful of the captive's hair and yanked her to her feet. This close, The Mirror could see the deep bruises, the sores and scorch marks and wounds oozing with pus. Each rib was clearly defined as she swayed on her feet, managing somehow to remain standing. How was she still alive, as weak as she was…and how could she remain so defiant?
He felt a pulse of magic and a box appeared in Regina's hands.
"Are you familiar with tape leeches?" She asked. The woman shuddered and Regina laughed, "I take it you have. Nasty little things, but they won't kill you. Not for a few months at least."
She opened the box to reveal a half dozen centipede-looking things crawling around. The woman shrank back.
"Give me your arm, dear," Regina commanded, "Or agree to take down the Dark One. Your choice."
She hardly wavered, reluctantly offering her left arm. Regina carefully removed one of the tape leeches and placed it on the arm. Regina clasped onto the wrist and the Mirror saw why in a moment.
The head shifted around as if sniffing, curious about its location and possibly hungry. As it sensed a vein, its skin peeled back to reveal tiny razorblade teeth while hooks rose up on its back and sides. It tore into the flesh brutally and the woman screamed, Regina's grip keeping her from pulling away. He felt nauseous as the creature dug into her, the hooks on its body helping it along as it crawled inside of her. She bit her lip until it bled, trying to hold in her screams. It burrowed just under her skin, a bump that moved around by slicing up her muscles and tissue, contently feeding upon her blood whenever the need arose.
The Mirror himself was crying as Regina continued remorselessly, placing one on her other arm, each leg, one on her back and one along her collarbone. The prisoner sobbed and wailed, but did not beg for mercy. Before each new tape leech, Regina asked her to take the Dark One's power away with a simple kiss. She rejected her each time.
Regina grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her violently after she refused for a final time, "Love is not some delicate little flame!" She screeched, the brooch's pin sliding out of her dress. He hit the ground without a noise, "It doesn't go away in a wind; that's lust! True love scars us, staying with us forever! He does love you, he will always love you, and nothing will ever change that!"
The Mirror heard her heels fade away suddenly, lying forgotten on the tower's floor.
The woman sank to her knees, weeping more openly in the absence of her torturer, "Rumplestiltskin," she murmured, caressing the name with her tongue. The Mirror wished he had had a name at some point, and that Regina had just once spoken it like that.
"Why?" He asked.
The woman started, looking around, "Who's there?"
"Down here, the fashion accessory."
She scooped him up and peered down at him with squinted eyes. He let his face materialize, "Please don't ask me who's the fairest of them all; I get that all the time. Must be the whole "mirror" thing."
"A talking looking glass," she murmured.
If he had shoulders, he would've shrugged, "Talking mirror, enchanted genie, projection of your imagination, whatever you want to see me as."
She considered this a minute, "…you're the reason Rumplestiltskin covers up the mirrors."
"One of the reasons. Regina doesn't need me to see through others' mirrors. Now, back to my question; why are you taking a beating for Rumplestiltskin if you think he doesn't love you?"
She studied him for a moment and he sighed.
"I'm not being a spy right now, I'm just wondering."
She still didn't fess up immediately, blue eyes sizing him up as if she could tell if he were lying or not, "…he does love me," she finally said, "Or else the kiss wouldn't have even almost worked. He's…holding on to something though, his power maybe…" she shook her head, "Regina tried to trick me the first time. I don't know why she wants him powerless but this," she gestured weakly around the tower, "Makes me think it's not an honorable reason."
"You'd rather endure torture than have him defenseless?" He clarified.
She bowed her head, "…I love him."
Three words. Three monosyllabic words. And yet they cut into the Mirror. This woman, this lovely strong woman, would do anything for the man she loved.
"I'll be right back," The Mirror said quickly and the woman stared at him in confusion.
It was hard for him to materialize anywhere Regina wasn't, due to his cursed wish. Staying with the woman hadn't been too tiresome, since he was still in the same building. Going all the way to the Dark Castle? He was already exhausted and he hadn't even found a portal yet.
He finally found a small uncovered mirror inside of the cabinet of Rumplestiltskin's favorite pieces of his collection. He glanced around for the imp, seeing each of his greatest treasures set on full display. King Arthur's sword. The Golden Fleece. King Triton's trident. …the Holy Grail was missing, though, and in its stead was a simple porcelain chipped cup.
Rumplestiltskin started to pass through the room, pausing beside the chipped cup. A finger gently traced the imperfection.
"I'm sorry, Belle," he said in a voice just above a whisper, and then continued on his way.
There was no doubt in the Mirror's mind; the woman in the tower was Belle, and Rumplestiltskin loved her back. The thought of their romance getting the happily ever after his never did, that in the case of the faithful woman who was being tortured to protect her lover it was reciprocated, was enough to make the Mirror's mind up. And the strange thing? He hardly thought twice about betraying his lovely Regina.
III
Mr. Gold had to say, even though science had been pitched to him as something greater than magic, technology left a lot to be desired. He wouldn't be practically begging a machine to work just to read over a contract, for one thing. No, he could just summon it and it would appear without a thought or the inability to get past the logo screen.
He briefly considered chucking it out the window so it would die gruesomely for not cooperating with his desires. It was his servant, there to do his bidding. Did he not replace unruly or unwilling underlings when he tired of them, knowing there were dozens more he could choose from?
He was Rumplemotherfuckingstiltskin , for god's sake! He should not have to put up with this!
"Download too much dwarf porn?"
He glared at the doorway, Kit leaning against the frame as if she needed permission to enter his office. Acknowledging her presence seemed to work just as well, and she strode towards him, "You do realize that when they say you've won something you usually haven't."
"I didn't do anything to it," he muttered, "It just won't turn on."
"Nothing you'd admit to," she countered, glancing at the screen, "…I could take a crack at it, if you want me to."
Mr. Gold raised an eyebrow, then rose, allowing her the desk chair and the desktop computer. Kit plopped down, immediately restarting and pressing at a row of buttons Mr. Gold usually didn't bother with.
"Best bet's a system restore for now," she said simply, "I can run diagnostics later when you have the time, but it's a nice little band-aid until I dig up the real issue."
Mr. Gold was impressed, "You know about computer problems?"
"Yup," she sat back as a loading bar popped up, biting on her nail, "It's a hobby of mine."
"Fixing computers?"
"Hacking computers," she corrected, "Learning how to deal with problems is a bonus."
This intrigued Mr. Gold, "So if you wanted to know something…"
Kit snorted, "Please. Any keystroke you've put into this I could pull up; every site, every document, even if you think you've erased your cookies and emptied your recycle bin. It's really friggin' hard to completely clear everything out of a computer." She grinned at him, "If you've got any deep dark secrets, better tell me now."
Mr. Gold smirked, "Nothing I wouldn't say to your face." His distrust of leaving a trail meant his computer was relatively clean; maybe an odd deal here or there he didn't want declared to the town (such as the one he was trying to get at), but nothing greater than that.
Within a few minutes, Kit had successfully gotten past the logo to the log-on screen, "Password?"
"Not a chance," he gestured and she got out of the chair.
She bit her lip, hesitating from departing.
"Thank you," Mr. Gold said.
"No problem," she shifted her weight, "So I was listening to Mrs. G's truck today, and it sounds like the belt's got problems."
He frowned, "Alright, well, I'll take it in then."
"To Tillman?" He nodded. "He'll rip you off, especially now that he's got Thing 1 and Thing 2 to worry about," she folded her arms, "I could look at it tomorrow, see if that's the case."
"You know about cars, too?" She nodded. He looked at her skeptically, "You're not even old enough to drive."
"Doesn't mean I can't take a car apart and put it back together in my sleep."
Mr. Gold pursed his lips thoughtfully, "Seeing as you don't have school tomorrow… I don't see the harm."
Kit grinned. It beat washing windows or anything else he might come up with.
Belle strolled into the kitchen that night proud as a peacock, holding something behind her back. Mr. Gold's danger senses were tingling.
"You owe me a date," she declared.
Mr. Gold arched an eyebrow, "Is that so?"
She nodded, then tossed a manila envelope onto the counter. He warily opened it.
Xeroxed snapshots of Mary Margaret and David Nolan, kissing, holding hands and generally looking in love.
"How did you…?" He trailed off.
"Date night!" She demanded, hopping up and down, "Date night, date night, date night!"
"Belle," he began and her spirits immediately dampened, "We have an alcoholic thief in our house. Do you really want to leave her alone for any length of time?"
Belle glared at him, "We had a deal…"
"And I will make good on that deal, believe me," he smiled, "Wouldn't you rather go out on Valentine's Day, with a reservation at Tony's?"
Belle narrowed her eyes at him, "You're bribing me."
"Only a little," he admitted.
She started twirling the discarded envelope around with her finger, "A normal husband would do two dates…"
"A normal husband goes on two dates a year with his wife," he shrugged, "We may not do the whole public thing, but I certainly enjoy our weekends in the cabin."
Belle sighed, accepting that she wouldn't change his mind. Tonight.
"How was your day with Kit?" He changed the subject, "She seemed to be in an amenable mood when I saw her."
"Pretty good, except for the fact she started hitting on Jefferson."
"Jefferson?" Mr. Gold echoed. She nodded, "Wonder what went on there."
She shrugged, "I'm trying not to read too much into it; Snow slept with Dr. Frankenstein and Red Riding Hood flirts with one of Cinderella's mice. Might just be a Storybrooke circumstance."
"Or maybe it's because the guy wears eyeliner better than I do, and that gets me hot and bothered."
Kit strode into the kitchen, cuddling Figaro to her chest. The kitten seemed perfectly content with being held, rubbing his face against her collarbone. Belle straightened, worried that the conversation might make Kit ask questions about code names or something.
Mr. Gold glowered, "You're fourteen. You shouldn't know what "hot and bothered" means."
"Well, I do, and he does," Kit kissed Figaro's head before setting him down. Figaro looked confused as to why he was suddenly on the floor, then followed after her, "We're going to get married and have twins. Jessie and James."
"And did you inform Jefferson of this when you spoke to him today?" Mr. Gold queried.
"I would've," Kit shot a glare at Belle, "But she dragged me away."
"In four more years I will not care about you going after older men," Belle assured her, following her into the kitchen, "But right now, I do."
"Jesus, what is up with you two and underage laws?" Kit pulled out a pot and started filling it with water, "It's about mental age, not physical."
"Well then you've got another nine years to tack on until you're eighteen," Mr. Gold jeered. Kit scratched at her face using only one finger, as if that would fool him as to her intention.
Belle reached up into the cabinet and pulled out the container of spaghetti, "Are you going to stand there useless and critical, or are you going to help us?"
Mr. Gold considered the ultimatum, "I was just going to stand here being useless and critical…" He said, then started for another pot, "But then I remembered how your meat sauce could off-put a goat's appetite…"
III
Mr. Gold was starting to see why Belle had loved to just sit and watch him in his tower, or at his wheel. There was something absolutely consuming about witnessing someone at their craft, staring as they went about their work as if it were the easiest thing in the world when it would take another person hours of fumbling around to achieve half of their success. Katja had followed in Rumplestiltskin's footsteps; deal-making, magic, all things he excelled at due to his curse. But now, he was the one with the elementary education and she with a Master's at Being Completely Skillful.
"Seriously, I'm not going to rip the brakes out or something," Kit grumbled as she caught him watching her from the porch, "If it was your car, maybe, but not Mrs. G. She's actually nice to me."
On cue, the black Cadillac pulled up and Belle hopped out with a paper bag and a drink carrier. She held them up in the air like trophies, "I come baring sustenance."
"Hallelujah," Kit said, wiping her hands off and following Belle up the walkway.
She hadn't worn any of her new clothes yet, he had noticed, choosing what she referred to as a "wife beater" and her jacket with a pair of old ratty jeans. He supposed it was best for working on a car, but he still wanted to see what she had picked out. Kit perched herself on the railing.
"So luckily it isn't the timing belt; it's just one of the drive belts," she explained as Belle doled out grilled cheese sandwiches and drinks, "When was the last time you changed the oil?"
Gold tried to summon a memory of having the oil changed. He couldn't. "It's been awhile."
"I should probably do that too, then, for both the cars."
Belle took her seat beside Mr. Gold on the porch swing, "How do you know so much about cars?" She asked.
Kit shrugged, "I picked it up," she bit into her sandwich, "That's the great thing about not having parents; you get to wander around a lot. I pay attention, I watch…and not in a pervy way like Mr. Pimp over there," she pointed an accusatory finger at Mr. Gold.
He brushed it off, sipping at his tea.
"Do you even know how to drive?" Belle asked, tilting her head.
"Yeah. Cars, boats, trains, motorcycles, four-wheelers, jet skis, semis… I've only done the flight simulator stuff, but I think I could fly a plane. Too bad Storybrooke doesn't have any of those lying around," she mused.
The Golds openly gawked at her.
"…you hack computers, know cars inside out, can operate pretty much everything with a wheel… Anything else I should know about?" Mr. Gold joked.
"I've got a black belt in jiu jitsu," Kit offered, continuing on her sandwich as she thought, "Know five languages; Russian, Spanish, German, Japanese, Latin…oh and English, so I guess that's six. Can't even count how many weapons I've been trained in… I've got a knack for explosions. Can decipher pretty much any code. And I've got this weird thing where no matter how injured I get, I don't die. It's like I'm immortal or something," she finished off her sandwich, "Then there's the usual thief stuff like picking locks and disarming security cameras and knowing how to dispose of evidence without a trace of a crime. If you need to get rid of a dead body, Gold, I am really good at that."
The couple was struck speechless, giving Kit time to chug her soda. Mr. Gold cleared his throat, "I imagine school bores you to death, then."
"You have no idea," she set her trash down and swiveled off the railing, hopping down onto the lawn, "Sometimes I learn something new, like how awesome hydrochloric acid is, but it's usually pretty dang tedious. Especially English. Like seriously, I've been speaking it my whole life, I'm pretty sure I know it by now," she returned to the truck, calling over her shoulder, "If you can get me a new belt and a car jack, that'd be peachy!"
Mr. and Mrs. Gold exchanged a glance.
"…Regina wasn't kidding when she said she was going to use her as a weapon," Mr. Gold muttered, "She's one extreme cause away from being a terrorist."
"She's like a tiny Lisbeth Salander," Belle murmured, staring at Kit as she propped the hood back up, "Minus the tattoos and multiple piercings."
"Maid… Why did I waste my favor on her cleaning when she could've been making me a bomb, or hacking Regina's computer?"
Belle stood back up, "I'm going to go get her that belt, then, before I head back to the shop."
"I should probably do something productive, like not pissing Kit off."
She paused on the first step, before glancing back at him with a playful grin, "You might want to stay within reach of the telephone."
Mr. Gold arched an eyebrow, "Oh? And why would I want to do that?"
"The shop's been particularly slow today," she said, casually descending the steps. She smirked, "I might get bored and need you to…entertain me."
"Oh…" He rose to his feet, "Well whatever you need, dearie."
"Guys, please, chill out on the horny teenager crap," Kit snapped, "Either get a room or shut up."
Getting a room sounded like an excellent idea, Mr. Gold thought. A back room.
III
"…Miss Ginger, I really don't have time for more complaints about working conditions. The air temperature is not one of my areas…"
"Scintillating," Emma muttered before taking a seat next to Sidney, "Been like this all day?"
"One dull conversation after the next," he sighed, "No wonder she's so on edge; half the town calls her daily just to complain."
"Maybe that's how she knows everything…" Emma remarked, prepared for another long, dull conversation.
They got something else as Regina dialed a number.
"…make it quick, you're busy? What on earth could you be busy with if you're answering your home phone? …you're serious? My god! Then she's…in the shop?! …that's just unprofessional. Anyway I just wanted to call to confirm our meeting… No I do not want to join in you sick bastard! Don't you dare take her off hol-" Regina let out a low growl, cut off presumably by being put on hold herself.
Emma and Sidney exchanged a "what the hell" glance.
"Yes hello, Miss French, your husband is being particularly… No, I don't want to "jump in" when you get to the castle, or anywhere! …I'm starting to see why they call you the Harlot of Hell. Gold, all I want is a confirmation- You two are disgusting... No, I'm not jealous, of any aspect of your lives… For the last time you perverts I AM NOT DOING A THREESOME PHONE SEX ROLEPLAY WITH YOU TWO! Now, I'll be at Access Road Twenty Three tonight with the rest of your payment in cash, either show up or not Gold!" She slammed the phone back down into its cradle and groaned, "I need to start dealing with those imps after a drink…maybe two."
Emma clicked the recording off, "Did you hear that? She's meeting Gold for some trade-off tonight."
Sidney stared at her, "That's what stuck out to you about the conversation? Not the invitation to a ménage a trois?"
"Hey, it's their business," Emma insisted, raising her hands, "Personally after the bruises I've seen it's probably safer for them to do it over the phone."
Kit was, for one, outraged that Mr. Gold wasn't coming home for dinner.
"I did his man work, I tidied the house, I made a decent meal I didn't even burn, and this is how he repays me?!" She yelled, calling him profane names that made Belle embarrassed she heard them.
"It's not like he's trying to offend you, Kit," Belle said as she dished herself up some meatloaf, "He's a busy man."
"And I'm a busy girl, but we all need some anchors to keep us from drifting off into chaos," Kit scooped up some salad in perhaps the moodiest way Belle had ever seen anyone put food on their plate, "Dinnertime is sacred, dammit, so he needs to get his ass home already so we can pretend we're a family."
Belle stopped, fork half raised to her mouth. Kit looked like a deer in the headlights as she realized her slip. Belle grinned.
"You said the "f" word," she sang playfully.
"I didn't mean it," Kit protested half-heartedly, stabbing at her lettuce, "And if he had showed up on time, I would've never said it."
Belle knew better than to further antagonize Kit; it would only drive down the exposed underbelly that she was finally starting to show. Still, she ate dinner with a little glowing ball of happiness in her chest as Kit continued to berate Mr. Gold and declaring that he was going to starve for this grievance.
The front door opened later that evening, and Belle glanced up from her book, curled into her reading chair. It was funny how she could tell from the heaviness of his cane falls that there was something weighing on him. He peered into the living room and she set "The Vow" down. She patted her lap gently and he obliged, curling up at her feet. He rested his cheek on her thigh and she stroked his hair, fingers grazing his jaw as she swept it back from his face.
"She's walking into a trap," he murmured, "She's walking straight into Regina's trap and there is nothing I can do to stop her."
"Failure's a good teacher," Belle observed, "It's better if she falls now over some small conspiracy theory than when all of our lives are at risk."
"Doesn't make it any easier to watch. She's going to make a fool of herself, and it's that damn Mirror's fault."
"Hey now, don't talk about Sidney that way," Belle scolded.
Mr. Gold growled, "I can't even talk negatively about him without you getting defensive…"
"And understandably so." She loosened his tie, "Eternal gratitude aside, if you were in his place and I was Regina, then you'd do the same exact thing to make me happy."
"Yeah, but you wouldn't appreciate it. You'd just chastise me about toying with people like I toy with words or something," he frowned, "Unless you actually were Regina, then I probably wouldn't love you. Unless I was the Mirror."
"You're thinking too much about the analogy," she warned, slipping her hand under his collar, "Sidney's a victim, that's all there is to it."
"Are you my victim?" Mr. Gold inquired, practically melting as she rubbed small circles into his sore neck muscles.
Belle hemmed, "…nope, pretty sure you're mine."
"And I am fine with that."
Mr. Gold closed his eyes, puddy in Belle's hand as she massaged his neck, having to move back over the shirt and overcoat to work on his shoulders. He rolled over so he was face down in her lap, giving Belle better access. He let out a soft moan and Belle giggled, giving the spot that triggered his reaction special attention.
"Yes…right there…scratch it please…oh god yes…"
Belle snickered, attacking the itchy spot. He arched into her like a cat, giving a sound that was close to someone dying of happiness.
"That's good…now, spread your legs for him and you hold on to either side of her hip. Improvise your line, but make sure it's really steamy and dominating. We're going for two people madly in love with control issues."
"KIT!" Belle screeched.
Mr. Gold's head jerked up and he whipped around to see the little troublemaker standing in the doorway, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Yet, because he was an older male, he was labeled the pervert…
"Did you hear that scream, Kit?" He asked, reaching for his cane to get back up, "That's the cry of an beautiful innocent moment being murdered."
"Please, I haven't believed in innocence since I was eight. Now chop chop," Kit snapped her fingers, "Time to make a baby."
"Kit!" Belle flushed scarlet.
"What? If you two are determined to create one au naturale, you gotta get goin'. Figure out when you're ovulating. Warm those swimmers up for the big race. Let's go go go!" She pointed up in the general direction of their bedroom.
"Go to bed, Kit," Mr. Gold said.
"Only if you two do the same," she insisted, but did leave them be.
He turned to see Belle covering her face, curled up as though that would help her hide.
"This is why we have to wait until she's gone," he said simply.
III
"Where's my list?"
Mr. Gold glanced up from pouring a cup of coffee. It was a Sunday, yet Kit didn't seem to be able to sleep past eight. He had no idea how late she stayed up but he was sure she wasn't getting a healthy amount of rest; often he could still see the light of her laptop screen coming from underneath her door at three in the morning. He turned back to his coffee.
"No list today, dearie. I thought you'd want a change of pace."
"Are you pissed that I didn't scrub the toilet? It looked clean enough to me, and that long-handed scrubber seems a little sketchy…"
"No, I'm just sick of having a shitty maid," he insisted with a smirk.
Kit snickered, "So, day off?"
"Not quite. I still have your servitude for twenty-four hours," he gestured towards the pot of coffee. Kit nodded, and he got down a second mug, "I was wondering if you'd like to help me in the shop today."
She stared at him in that condescending teenage way he had become familiar with over the past couple of weeks, "Making the thief work the store she stole from? Brilliant plan, Mr. Pimp."
"It's an exercise of trust," he said, pouring another cup and giving it to her. She got off the stool and made a bee-line for the refrigerator.
"Can't we just take turns falling and catching each other and call it good?" She grabbed the creamer and returned to her perch. Mr. Gold watched as she poured nearly as much creamer into the coffee as the actual amount of coffee in the mug, then swirled it around, "Dunno how good I'll do, but it can't be worse than my cooking."
"No it really can't," he agreed and she shot him a glare, trying not to smile.
Kit downed the coffee and went to shower, while Belle awoke and came down to investigate the morning routine.
"…I didn't hear any screaming, cursing or blenders," she said suspiciously, Figaro rubbing up against her leg. She reached down to pet him and scratch his ears, "Did you kill her?"
"No, we had a very civil conversation over coffee about today's plans."
"…Rumplestiltskin, we cannot start killing people here! We are not above the law, and we were the last people seen with her!"
"I didn't kill her!"
"I am not eating any meat today that comes from you!"
"I'm not dead; I just went to take a shower!"
They both turned as Kit appeared in the doorway, and Mr. Gold's breath caught in his throat. She was only wearing a hint of eyeliner today, for starters, hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. Though the sleeves were fishnet, the rose-and-thorns design of the shirt was quite tasteful, and didn't cling to her body. Her jeans were faded gray denim, without chains or rips, and complimented her petite frame. She still wore her old boots, but they seemed considerably diminutive now that long pantslegs covered the fact they went up to her knees.
She was still obviously Kit…but she no longer appeared to be a streetwalker of the night, or Ruby's younger sister. She squirmed at Mr. Gold's gaze.
"What?"
He smiled faintly, eyeing the black ribbon choker necklace with a tiny red rose on it, "Nothing, it's just…" He met her eyes, "You're beautiful."
Kit's face twisted up in confusion, her mouth opening but having no idea how to respond. She glanced away and then back at him, looked ready to make a snide comment about what he said, then stopped herself. She flushed, and bowed her head shyly.
"Thanks."
With a heavy heart Mr. Gold realized that this was the reaction of a girl who had never had a man call her "beautiful". It was one thing for someone of the opposite gender to call a woman "hot" or "cute" or "sexy", but to be called "beautiful"…it was a true compliment. Even if it was a simple acknowledgement of a young lady's beauty as he had done, it still hit home.
"Come on now, we're running late," he insisted, ushering her out of the kitchen.
"But you're the boss, how can we be late?"
"I don't make exceptions for myself when it comes to timeliness," he paused to hug and kiss Belle, who held onto him as he went to pull away.
"I really hope we have a girl."
Mr. Gold smiled, taking it as an apology for her latest stunt with the threat of birth control.
"Can I drive?"
"Absolutely not," he stated, pulling away from Belle.
"Why the heck not? Licensing is just the government's way of controlling people."
"No, it's for keeping dumbasses from killing us with thousands of tons of steel going at high speeds. Now get in the car's passenger seat before I leave you here to organize books or something."
Belle smiled, watching the two of them leave bickering like a father and daughter.
III
Today was a victory for Regina Mills. She had successfully pulled off her anti-conspiracy plan and made Miss Swan look like an utter fool, working her man puppet perfectly. Now that Miss Swan was dealt with for now…she could focus on another pressing issue.
When she opened the door, she was assaulted with the strumming of a ukulele and someone singing loud and off-key.
"GOLD GETS ALL DEM BI-ITCHES, GOLD GETS ALL DEM BI-ITCHES. FRENCH, SWAN, MILLS, LUCAS, GLASS, GOLD GETS ALL DEM BI-I-I-TCHES!"
Regina cringed, both at the lyrics and the horrible musical composition. Kit paused as she noticed the mayor.
"The hell you want, beotch?"
"Kit."
The girl jumped down from the counter and went to go put the instrument away as Mr. Gold appeared, glaring at her, "That is not how you greet customers…"
"What if she's not a customer, just someone here to bug you?"
"Then you call her Mayor Mills," he made a shooing gesture at the girl and she huffed, retreating to the back room to give them some semblance of privacy.
"If you're here about Belle and I's proposition, that was strictly an over-the-phone deal," he stated, "This may put me at odds with the rest of the male population, but I have no desire to be with another woman besides my wife, especially not you."
Regina's upper lip twitched as she fought down a snarl, then approached Mr. Gold, "What are you doing with her?" She tilted her head to indicate the currently absent Kit.
Mr. Gold sighed, drumming his fingers on the handle of his cane, "You know I am getting awfully tired of these insinuations… If I were a woman and she were a boy there wouldn't be nearly as much grief, chalking it up to being maternal and nurturing."
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," she planted her hands on the counter, arms stretched as if she were posing, "Why are you trying to build a bridge with Katja?"
She was always posing though; so aware of how her every move was being watched by him. He glanced over her as though studying her body language but really, he knew she was nervous. He looked into her eyes and gave his best innocent smile.
"Just trying to help out an old friend."
"You don't have friends," she said dismissively, tapping a red-painted talon against the glass, "No, I think you figured out just how valuable that little kitten is and now you're trying to bribe your way into her favor."
"You think it's that easy to gain her as an ally? Give her some new clothes, show her a little discipline and I'll have her eating out of my hand? If it were that easy..." He gave a casual shrug, "She wouldn't be much of an alliance, turning her coat easily for whoever signs the fatter paycheck."
"Wasn't that the point of cutting her ties?" Regina insisted, "Making it so that I could slip in and bring her to my side?"
Mr. Gold flicked open one of the cases, "…have you ever seen a werecat in love, Your Majesty?"
Regina blinked, thinking the question was slightly off-topic, "No, can't say that I have."
"It's poignant, really. The stuff of Greek tragedy," he picked something up, taking it out and closing the case, "They don't live in packs or villages, monogamous and only caring for one child at a time… What few social bonds they have are extremely tight, intense and intimate to a degree no mere mortal could ever fathom."
He set down a small velvet case in front of her, "It's another factor in why they died out; once they fall into true love, it is impossible for them to function without their mate or child. If their loved one dies for some reason, most werecats will commit suicide minutes after they pass. Such is the bond they share that they know they will never find another love, and life ceases to have meaning."
"…are you saying that Katja is in love with you?" Regina murmured.
Mr. Gold was silent for a minute, fingers running over the velvet, "Not nearly that bad, but bad enough," he felt along the crack of the box, "The loyalty of a werecat transcends all curses, all spells; you could have all of their lives and their still-beating heart in your hands and they still won't turn against their loved ones. That is the value of that emotion to them."
He opened the case and inside was a small teardrop of an emerald hanging from a leather string. Regina stared at it, the item making her feel she should know what it is, but she couldn't place it.
"Much as you can't keep Mary Margaret from loving David… Much as you couldn't make Sheriff Graham love you and Sidney bows to your every whim… Katja will always be Katja, and good luck trying to manipulate her," he slammed the box shut.
Regina straightened, flicking her hair back with an irritated shake of her head, "I don't care how she's bonded to you; she doesn't remember you, and I've put up too many walls for your laughable attempts to overcome," she started back out the way she came, "You won't be able to use her against me, Rumple," she called over her shoulder before she let the door swing shut.
"No, no I won't," he agreed softly. Yes, his original plan in securing a werecat kitten had been to gain her trust to use her… but he had long ago given up on any hope she could be persuaded to do anything she didn't want to do.
If Regina kept ticking her off, though, she might get the claws without him having to lift a finger.
The curtain drew back and he glanced over, "Ready to close up?"
Kit's amber eyes were unreadable, "Yeah…"
Perhaps he and Regina should've been more careful, with Kit being so near, "Why don't you get in the car while I lock up, alright?"
She nodded, and then went out the side door. An uneasy feeling gathered in the pit of his stomach, but he just went about turning off lights and locking things up. If Regina and him wanted to talk about the love of werecats, then they could; it would just sound like rubbish to her. Unless she wasn't as cursed as he believed. Perhaps he had been spending too much time with her, corroding the curse inside of her mind. She was acting more like Katja than Kit now…
When he went to join her, he noticed that she was in the driver's seat. He frowned, knocking on the window, "Very funny, Kit, now out," he tried the handle, but it was locked.
"I'm taking you for a drive," she declared, "Now shut up and ride."
He could try to get her out of the driver's seat; he had managed to strap her into a strait-jacket, after all. But a part of him was insanely curious about what she was up to, so he didn't stand his ground as firmly as he ought to have. She actually wasn't too bad of a driver.
She took him out towards the beach, driving past the cannery and ruins of Henry's old castle. She drove until there was nowhere to park, and only a grassy hill to head towards. He followed her as she trudged up the hill, the grass as tall as her hips.
"It's cold," he muttered.
"Aw, quit your bitchin'." She went to the top of the hill and promptly sat down, smoothing the grass down around her. Mr. Gold stood and watched her, "C'mon, now, I'm not gonna flatten it for you too."
"If I knew we were going to be camping, I would've worn more suitable clothes," he complained, before smoothing out his own area beside her.
They lay down on their backs, staring up at the sky. Mr. Gold took in a deep breath and exhaled at the sight.
"You can really see the stars out here," he murmured.
Kit nodded, "I've been all around Storybrooke but here, right by the water…that's where they're the brightest. They're not blocked by buildings or even trees. They're…pure," she laughed at herself, "That sounds silly, huh?"
He shook his head, "Not really."
They lay for a few minutes, watching the sky as though waiting for fireworks. There were no sounds this far away; no cars driving past, or voices except for their own. He felt truly isolated, as though he had been closed out of the village and into his own purgatory with Kit. It was an oddly peaceful moment.
"My…mom told me when I was little that…each star is a door…to another world," she said, her words stilted, "Like how Peter Pan said "second star to the right and straight on 'til morning"? But…that means there's millions of them, all a little different than ours. We could have other selves there too I bet, like evil twins, or us as the other gender, or as a unicorn or something. Infinite possibilities."
Mr. Gold nodded, "I think you're on to something, Miss Pettigrew."
She turned her head to stare at him, her eyes clearly indicating they had entered a no-tolerance-of-bull-crap mode, "…why did you want me?"
Mr. Gold turned to look at her, feeling his heart tumbling out until it was on his sleeve, "Because I saw you that day, when you came out of the classroom… And something spoke to me. Something insisted that here was a precious life being put before me and that I needed to help you…or you'd be lost forever."
"Why do you care what happens to me?" She breathed. Mr. Gold summoned up what little courage he had and used it.
"Because you are a beautiful, intelligent, confident young lady and one day, with whatever you decide to do, you will change the world. I could see that…but I could also see that you didn't see it, and that no one else saw it. So I knew no matter how others saw the relationship, no matter what you did to try and stop me, no matter my own personal feelings or Rose's… I had to save that light inside of you, before the world smothered it forever."
Kit's amber eyes went glossy, her cheek pressed against the ground as she stared at him. When she spoke, it sounded as though she were about to cry, "…I've never brought anyone out here… I've never told anyone about the stars… But I thought you'd understand."
"I think I do," he murmured, "…thank you."
A couple of tears did spill out then, "I'm so lost sometimes… So fucking alone… So I drink, because when I drink I'm someone else. When I'm drunk I know I don't belong here, and that I'm not Kit, and that nothing's right. But it's the only time I really feel like myself, yanno? That this haze I've been living under is lifted, and that this giant lie is gone, and all I want to do is drink a glass of milk and curl up in front of a fireplace and play with a little golden ball." She was crying now, but Mr. Gold was paralyzed, unable to reach out and touch her, "You must think I'm a fucking psycho…"
"I don't think that at all…Katja."
She stiffened at the name and he wondered if saying it was a mistake. She bit her lip, "That's my name, when I'm drunk," she whispered, "That's my real name…"
As though sensing dangerous territory, Kit turned away, and they lay there on the hill, staring up at the sky and watching the worlds twinkle thousands of light-years away from where they were. And Mr. Gold wondered which one theirs was.
When they did finally drive home, it was getting close to midnight. They hadn't said more than a few words to each other since he had called her Katja. He parked the car in the driveway, but hesitated at turning the engine off.
"While we're being honest with each other…" He began and she glanced at him, eyeliner lightly smudged from where she had wiped at her tears, "I just want to impart a little wisdom on you. There is nothing sexier to a man than a woman who respects herself. If you treat yourself like you're cheap, everyone else will follow suit."
Kit's lips twitched up, "Is that how Mrs. Gold got a ring on your finger? Respecting herself and acting like a lady?"
He smiled, "It was one of the reasons, yes, but choosing one thing that made me propose is impossible."
Kit smiled back, "Can I do something if you promise not to read too much into it?"
He did not like the sound of that, "…alright, sure."
She leaned towards him and planted her lips on his cheek before drawing back. Mr. Gold blinked in surprise, then frowned at her, "What was that for?"
"That's what you're supposed to do to old men, isn't it? Kiss them on the cheek?" She opened her door, rubbing at her mouth, "You need to shave tomorrow, you're all stubbly."
Mr. Gold smiled softly, turned off the car, and followed her inside, the skin where she had kissed him warm compared to the rest of his face.
III
"Kay, I'm ready," Kit announced, coming into the dining room with her backpack slung over one shoulder.
Belle glanced up in confusion, "Ready for what?"
Kit bit her lip, "My two weeks are up," she reminded her, "I'm leaving."
Belle could only stare uncomprehendingly at her. She wasn't sure what would happen at the end of two weeks, but she was hoping for some kind of breakthrough, that Kit would realize she was welcome and wanted and they would be a small happy family. She didn't expect Kit to actually leave.
"Alright then," Mr. Gold rose from his seat at the table, "Are you coming with, Rose?"
"I guess." Why on earth was Kit leaving? This wasn't how the story was supposed to go… She numbly followed them to the car, feeling blindsided even though she should've known this was coming.
Belle was horrified when they arrived at Kit's "house".
"She lives in the woods?!" She exclaimed, staring at the tent.
Kit shrugged, "I like it out here," she insisted, before sliding out of the car.
Belle turned to Mr. Gold pleadingly, "You can't honestly allow her to go back to living in a tent in the woods, can you?!"
"You think I'm happy about this?" He murmured, meeting her eyes, "This is what she wants, Belle; we can't change that anymore than I could change your mind when you decided to be with me."
"But…"
"She's wild, dearie. She'll go crazy if she's kept up any longer," he took her hand and squeezed it gently, "She's fine, happy even. And our claim to her has ended." He got out of the car and she followed.
Kit stood a couple of feet from the car, braced for the goodbyes. She went for the harder one first, hugging Belle tightly.
"I'm gonna miss you, Mrs. G," she murmured.
Belle fought back her tears, chin quivering as the girl let go, "You're always welcome, Kit. Anything you need, any time at all…"
"I know," she said softly, avoiding Belle's eyes.
She then turned to the easier one, "You, on the other hand, I'm not going to miss at all. Not even a little."
Mr. Gold smirked, "The feeling's mutual, trust me. You're an insufferable little brat, you know that?"
"Yeah, well, you aren't exactly a walk in the park either, Gramps. Now I can actually talk how I want, dress how I want and do what I want."
"And I can have sex without a personal cheerleader goading me on."
Kit shuddered, walking backwards, "Just try to save some spots clean so people can actually not have to worry about what's been done where they sit."
"Not a chance," he grinned. He couldn't help but add, "I love you Kit!"
"Stick that cane up your d-hole and screw yourself, Gold!"
He beamed at Belle, "See? She says she loves me too," he said proudly.
And just like that, Kit was out of their lives again. Ever coming, ever going, like a stray cat fed on the back porch.
III
In the past month or so since Belle's departure, Rumplestiltskin had spun more gold than he had ever spun before. Deals were rare, unable to put his heart into them. He barely ate, and he avoided sleep since it brought visions of her. If Regina had wanted to break him, it had worked; he simply could not get himself to function again, something irreplaceable missing in his clockwork.
He tried to convince himself that Sir Maurice was to blame; he was her father, he shouldn't have shut her out like that, should have seen that Belle was too pure for even him to defile. But every beat of his heart, every pair of steps he took, every inhale and exhale, told him the truth. Your fault. Your fault. Belle's dead. Your fault.
"Rumplestiltskin."
The wheel paused and he glanced towards the door, curious about this hallucination. There was obviously no one in the room but himself, and it had been a male voice so he wasn't imagining her…
"Rumplestiltskin," he repeated, and it sounded like it was coming from the mirror. The one he had shouted at that night.
He dropped his thread and approached it with balled up fists. He had covered it again after that night, his pride still holding on to its shriveled husk in not wanting Regina to see him like this. Without thinking, he snatched the sheet and ripped it off.
Honestly he wasn't expecting anything, so when he saw a disembodied head, it sort of threw him for a loop. He scowled.
"What do you want? Here to gloat? Rub it in my face that her blood is on my hands? It won't change anything for Her Majesty; I'm still more powerful than her, she lost."
"Getting your exercise jumping to conclusions?" The Mirror asked, "I'm not here for Regina's sake; I'm here for Belle's."
How dare he speak her name… Rumplestiltskin wanted to smash the Mirror just for being so presumptuous. Instead, he simply narrowed his eyes.
"The Queen lied to you," The Mirror continued, "Belle's alive."
"Don't you dare try and beguile me with your tricks!" Rumplestiltskin snarled, pointing a wicked finger at the Mirror, "I will not fall for them! Dead is dead, and no magic can fix that!"
The Mirror didn't look fearful, or repentant, or even sinisterly pleased. He just looked irritated; as if Rumplestiltskin was accusing him of eating the last cookie in the jar though clearly he couldn't have, being a spiritual entity and all.
"…listen, it's hard enough to sustain my connection here without Her Majesty, so I'm not going to waste my time arguing with you over the state of whether your maid's heart still beats. Belle is alive, in the highest room in the tallest tower of Regina's palace, but who knows how long that will be true. I'm going to give you one more thing before I leave you to your angst; do with it as you wish."
The image of the Mirror faded, replaced by a much darker one. Rumplestiltskin peered at it, stepping closer to get a better look. It was at an odd angle, as if being held. The image shuddered as the holder shivered, and a knife went through Rumplestiltskin as he gazed into his true love's bright blue eyes.
"Please come back, Mirror," Her voice was coarse as sand, "Please…you're the only one I have to talk to." Her eyes brimmed with tears.
Her matted hair. Her bruised and blistered body. The way her bones jutted out as though she were a skeleton wearing a tight-fitting skin. Rumplestiltskin could sense illusionary magic…but this felt as real as the cold that hung in the Dark Castle's corridors. The easy thing would be to pretend that it was just a trick, to insist the Evil Queen was just trying to ensnare him in a trap. The brave thing, the hard thing, would be to believe, because then he would have to go and rescue her and chance that he was wrong.
Did Belle not deserve him being brave for her? After what he had done to her? Yes, Regina may laugh if she caught him chasing a dream…but what would the cost of not believing be?
Rumplestiltskin had vanished by the time the image faded, appearing just outside the gates of Regina's castle. He glanced up at the tallest tower, and rage began to fuel his blood like fire.
IIIII
Happy Thanksgiving y'all! I chipped a porcelain cup today…but no one was around to enjoy it with me. So I just had to hold it and be satisfied with the fact that I was totally Belle for five seconds.
What happened there? I seriously didn't mean to write so much and refuse to cut any of it out… Oh well, I'll make you suffer with more Kit scenes than you ever wanted and hardly any FTL goodness. Because we go back to serious Rumbelle business next chappie. And remember, Rumbelle is only a few letters away from "rumble".
I haven't groveled lately, so thank you all followers, all favoriters, all mysterious readers who read and enjoy without me ever knowing, and especially all reviewers. I want to give you something, but I'm poor and have no art skills.
Sneak peek: First line: "Emma, I think Mr. and Mrs. Gold are going to kill each other."