Chapter 11—"A Mystery to be Uncovered"

"Why are there…flowers on my table?" Rumplestiltskin spotted the offending daffodils right away; Belle was pretending to dust near them, but he knew who the culprit had to be.

Morgan, after all, did not like flowers. Unless she was turning idiots into them, of course. Then his mother liked flowers just fine.

His cheeky maid just shrugged. "I thought they'd look nice."

"But—but this is the Dark Castle." He tried to giggle off-puttingly, but it came off weak and Rumplestiltskin hated himself for it. His heart pounded every time he looked at Belle, but he could not afford to sound like that. He couldn't. "People are supposed to be afraid of this place, not lulled into comfort by flowers!"

"Perhaps you can then lull them into a false sense of security?" Belle smiled at him, but it was the way her tongue stuck out slightly from between her teeth that did unfortunate things to him.

"I'm—I don't need—which is to say that I…" Rumplestiltskin found himself stuttering, and then cut the ramble off with an effort. "That's not required!"

"You can get rid of them if you want." Her eyes were a little big and sad, but he was not going to be swayed by that. "I just thought they'd look nice."

The hopeful look on her face killed him, but at least there wasn't anyone else around to witness his humiliation. Or at least not anyone other than the voices in his head. Rumplestiltskin tried to shrug casually. "I'll get used to them, I'm sure."

"Thank you!" Much to his surprise, Belle bounded forward to kiss him on the cheek, and Rumplestiltskin froze like a frightened rabbit.

She had…kissed him? On the cheek? Why had she done that? Why would she ever do anything other than shy away from the beast? However, Belle was already gone, continuing with her 'cleaning', complete with cheerful humming, but all Rumplestiltskin could do was stare, dumbfounded. Of course, Nimue took advantage of his distraction.

Burn the flowers! the first Dark One demanded. Burn her with them! Don't let her be so disrespectful. She'll only take advantage of you.

Better yet, take advantage of her first, Zoso added. You know you want to. Several others murmured in agreement; Rumplestiltskin could feel their lust building rapidly, and it made him shiver in revulsion. Take her. She might not even argue. Do it right there, on the table. That'll take care of the flowers, and then you can—

A hand on his arm cut the voices off like someone had pushed them straight out of his soul. "Are you all right?"

"…wha?" Blinking, Rumplestiltskin found himself staring into Belle's concerned Blue eyes, floundering for mental balance in the sudden silence.

"Are you all right, Rumplestiltskin?" Belle asked gently, squeezing his arm. "You look…tormented."

He swallowed hard. "Yes. I'm fine. Very fine. Of course I'm fine."

"I can tell." Belle's laugh was soft, but somehow, it wasn't mocking. He still pulled away from her, though, and the voices came back in an avalanche of fury.

Destroy her! Take her and burn her and—

"Shut up." Rumplestiltskin hissed the words before he could stop himself, caught in a whirlwind of confusion. The voices had stopped and then started anew, angrier and demanding blood and death and—

"What?" Her voice cut through the shouting like the sharp and clear noise of a bell, sounding hurt and worried. "What did I say?"

"Not you." He spoke too soon, and Rumplestiltskin desperately waved a hand to distract her. "Never mind. I'm talking to myself." Her expression remained a shade wounded, but the apology he knew she deserved stuck in his throat.

You're weak! Nimue's mocking laugh filled his mind. This slip of a girl has you-

Despite her hurt, Belle reached out for him once more, and Nimue was suddenly silent. The transition was startling. "You're talking to Nimue, aren't you? I read that she was the first Dark One, but she's not really gone, is she?"

"Wha—what did you say?" Utterly shocked, Rumplestiltskin actually stumbled. "How did you know that? Who told you—"

He managed to cut himself off, but the damage was done. He'd said too much, and yet somehow, Belle's soft hand remained in place. "No one told me. But it isn't that hard to figure out. You're a good man, Rumplestiltskin, but there's a darkness festering inside you that just eats at your soul, isn't there?"

"I made my choices." The words came out in a mumble, but he wouldn't lie. "All magic comes at a price."

"Is loneliness the price you have to pay?" Her voice was still so soft and gentle that it almost broke him. "Must you do this alone? I can't imagine how hard it is to fight back those voices on your own. Can't you accept help?"

Rumplestiltskin just stared, unable to form words. After all she had just learned, how did she ask that? Yet the compassion in Belle's eyes was unmistakable; she was a direct woman and not given to lying. But he still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that Belle cared about him. She'd said that she wanted to be his friend, and yet this…this was too much. This was dizzying. How could she possibly accept him for what he was? Morgan did, but Morgan was his mother. It had taken him long enough to accept that, yet Belle was not Morgan. Belle was sweetness and light, courage and gentleness. Morgan was strong, yes, but she was all sharp edges and embittered passions gone wrong. Morgan understood bad choices; she'd lived plenty of her own. Belle had only ever made the right ones.

"Rumple?"

A few weeks ago, he would have snapped at her not to use that nickname, the one he'd discarded centuries ago and now only reserved for his mother. But now the name of his old innocence, his softer and kinder self—Weaker! his own self-hated reminded him—sounded beautiful on her lips.

Except he still didn't know what to say to her. To any of this.

"I—I have things to do." His hands flapped uselessly as he spoke the words, and then like the coward he was, Rumplestiltskin fled.

Teleporting himself to his work room, however, didn't take away the feeling of her hand on his arm or her lips on his scaly cheek.

Morgan didn't want to press, but she could see what was happening. The way Rumplestiltskin softened as he watched Belle, the way a small smile kept trying to creep onto his lips whenever the girl wasn't looking. He was truly falling for her, and what was more interesting was that Rumplestiltskin was doing so without Morgan's interference. She'd expected to have to push him more, yet here her son was, falling head over heels in love with Belle. And Belle is doing just as I had hoped she would—being brave and getting to know him as a person.

Morgan knew her son's weaknesses, after all. After decades in his castle, she knew that Rumplestiltskin's deepest and darkest desire was to be loved. He'd given his heart to Cora, disastrous as that had been, and as afraid as he was, he would give it to Belle, too. All she really needed to do was get out of the way—and make sure that her fool boy didn't manage to mess things up with his fears. Yet Belle was doing admirably so far, even if her methods were not those Morgan would have chosen herself.

It was probably better that way. If Belle had listened too much to any advice Morgan gave, Rumplestiltskin might have guessed that his mother wanted to manipulate events. She did want to, of course, but this little romance was rapidly tearing itself out of her hands. So, she chose to focus on other things.

"How does the Dark Curse progress?" she asked one evening, after she was certain that Belle was long since asleep. Rumplestiltskin didn't have to sleep, of course, and Morgan often chose not to. She had too many regrets to sleep easily.

"Zelena is a far from ideal curse caster." Rumplestiltskin's lips curled up in a sneer as he glared at her. "Which would not have happened if you hadn't intervened with Cora."

"Yes, then you would have had Regina, who would have been miserable." Morgan shrugged. "But then Cora might also have your dagger, and then where would you be?"

That comment earned her a poisonous glare, but this was hardly the first time they'd had this argument, so Morgan shrugged it off. Killing Cora—rather, having buried her alive—was not one of Morgan's many regrets. Rumplestiltskin was far safer with that poisonous little social climber gone, Dark Curse be damned. And he knew it, too, which was why he turned away with a pout before answering.

"She's found herself an old friend to amuse herself." A nasty giggle. "Couldn't happen to a nicer pirate."

"Pirate?" Morgan didn't know of any history her son had with a pirate, save for the one whose hand he'd cut off centuries earlier. Still, it didn't matter, so she waved her hand dismissively. "Never mind that. Is she progressing well enough in her magical studies?"

"Oh, magic's not the problem with dear Zelena. She's plenty of that, and anger enough besides." Rumplestiltskin wiggled his fingers gleefully. "Although no one's had the heart to tell her that her precious Prince James is dead and has been replaced with his twin."

"Who has, of course, fallen for her hated stepdaughter." Morgan couldn't have planned that better herself, but she could see her son's fingerprints all over it.

"The irony is rather delicious." His smile was almost genuine, if one could ignore the mockery beneath it. "But there remains the problem of what heart she will use."

"Perhaps I can help with that." Morgan took a breath; she knew what worried Rumplestiltskin because they'd both seen the way Zelena looked at her teacher. Her needing Rumplestiltskin's heart for the Dark Curse would negate the advantages of having it cast; the Dark One probably couldn't be killed via heart-crushing, yet Rumplestiltskin probably could, which would leave Morgan with Nimue and company inhabiting her son's body and Baelfire without a father to find him.

"You?" Years ago, her volunteering would have earned Morgan a suspicious look, but now Rumplestiltskin only peered at her curiously.

"Yes, me." She tried not to roll her eyes. "I still do not think that the Dark Curse is the best answer, but if this must be done, I will see it done right. Surely there's some fool we can find for Zelena to fall for. She's lonely enough that anyone who adores her enough will probably do the trick."

In some ways, Morgan found Zelena's loneliness terribly sad. It even reminded her of herself in some of her worst days. Yet if she had to choose between Zelena and her son, Rumplestiltskin would win every time. Zelena would know the price that needed to be paid, and the choice would be hers. Morgan did not pity those who destroyed themselves in the pursuit of revenge. She had done it, and knew there was always a choice.

Now there was only the question of finding the proper fool for Zelena to love.

Belle thought about going to Morgan for advice, but in the end, she stopped herself. Rumplestiltskin was so frustrating, closed off and yet endearingly fragile. She had to stop turning to Morgan for help with these things if she truly wanted to get to know Rumplestiltskin for himself, so she started in small ways. She didn't bring up how the previous Dark Ones might be influencing him—even though Belle burned to ask questions about that! Instead, she just talked to him, just like they used to. They talked about books in the library, about history, about places he had been and things he had seen. And slowly, she started touching him more and more, laying a hand on his arm here and a kiss on his cheek there. Rumplestiltskin seemed to soften every time she did so, his eyes looking more and more human as he gave her hesitant smiles.

Belle drank each one up like an elixir; she didn't know why her ability to make the Dark One smile meant so much to her, but she wanted to see him happy. There was as much sadness in him as there was darkness, she'd realized. Rumplestiltskin was capable of terrible things, such as trying to kill that poor outlaw he'd nearly shot a few months ago, but he was also capable of deep and genuine feeling. Can he love me? she had once asked Morgan. Like this? Morgan had said yes, although Belle hadn't been ready to believe her at the time.

She was ready now.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked that evening. Belle had been reading while Rumplestiltskin spun—a habit they'd picked up sometime over the last few weeks—and Morgan was nowhere in sight. The sorceress had said something about 'finding a fool' when she left hours earlier, and Belle thought now might be a good time to talk.

"Like what?" Rumplestiltskin twisted to look at her, his eyes dancing with mirth. "Do you have a desire to know what potions can keep you young and beautiful for a hundred lifetimes, hmmm?"

That question startled a laugh out of Belle, and the question that followed blurted out before she could stop herself. "Do you think I'm beautiful, then?"

"I—I, um, well, as well you should be." Was he turning a little red? Belle couldn't tell, because suddenly Rumplestiltskin was up and looming towards her with comically feigned menace. "A monster wouldn't demand an ugly maiden, after all. Only the best will do!"

"Oh, is that how it is?" She couldn't help giggling, though, particularly as Rumplestiltskin danced forward, clearly miming a terrible beast.

"Of course it is. Haven't you read the rules, dear?"

"Rules? What rules?"

"Of being a terrible monster." His hands flashed in the air, twirling. "And I am the most terrible monster of them all."

"Oh, stop that. Of course you aren't." Smiling, Belle reached up and grabbed Rumplestiltskin by the left arm, tugging downwards. As she'd expected, his silly dancing had left him unbalanced, and a small pull from her made him topple onto the couch at her side with a surprised yelp. "You're certainly not terrible."

Surprisingly sad eyes glanced her way briefly before looking away. "I'm not a man."

"Surely you were, once." Belle cocked her head. "You weren't always like this."

"No. No, I wasn't." His voice was a whisper, barely audible.

"You can't have always been alone, either, can you?" She squeezed his arm again, watching Rumplestiltskin's face carefully. He looked ready to clam up, ready to run away, but touching him always seemed to help. Taking a deep breath, she decided to gamble. "Was there a son, once?"

Rumplestiltskin's head jerked around like a frightened rabbit, his eyes wide and almost afraid. But he didn't pull away, only staring at Belle while she watched his tortured expression. Finally, his chin dropped to stare at the floor.

"Yes. Once."

There was so much pain in his voice that Belle could feel it hanging in the air, broken and yearning. "What happened?" she whispered.

"I lost him."

"I'm so sorry." Belle squeezed his arm again, noticing the way tears were welled up in the strange, reptilian eyes. Despite looks, she'd never seen Rumplestiltskin appear so human as he did now, nor so small and so tired. "What happened? Will you tell me?"

He swallowed hard enough to make his adam's apple bob up and down. "There's nothing else to tell, really."

"I doubt that."

"You had a life, Belle." His head came up as he changed the subject without warning, looking at her with a deep intensity that made Belle shiver. "Before…this. Friends. Family. What made you choose to come here with me?"

"Heroism." Belle shrugged a little, wondering if she sounded silly. But Rumplestiltskin clearly didn't want to talk about his lost son, so she went along with it. "Sacrifice. You know, there aren't a lot of opportunities for women in this land to… to show what they can do. To see the world, to be heroes. So, when you arrived, that was my chance. I always wanted to be brave. I figured, do the brave thing, and bravery would follow."

"And is it everything you hoped?"

"Well, uh… I did want to see the world." She laughed lightly. "That part didn't really work out. But, uh… I did save my village." And Belle wasn't so sheltered that she didn't know how lucky she'd been. She had expected Rumplestiltskin to deflower her, at best. Not to make a friend who she cared for more than she'd ever cared for Gaston.

"By going with the terrible monster." Rumplestiltskin grinned as he said the words, so Belle smacked his arm lightly.

"If you want to frighten me, you're going to have to do much worse than that."

He giggled, going theatrical on her again, looming forward with a wolfish expression. "Do you doubt I can, dearie?"

"At this point, yes!" But Belle could barely contain her own attack of the giggles; facing that ridiculous expression made her laugh uncontrollably. At least until a new voice rang out, rudely interrupting their fun.

"If this is what your mother's maid gets up to when she's gone, Rumple, you really need to find the girl some more work."

They both twisted to see that terrible witch of a queen, Zelena, standing by the long table. Instantly, Rumplestiltskin was on his feet, his smile replaced by a scowl of epic proportions. "Well, this is an unexpected pleasure, dearie. Did you run out of peasants to torment?" He danced forward, all danger and sharp edges, with none of the softness Belle had come to love so much. "Or was it pirates this time?"

Zelena's face twitchedjust so, and Belle knew that blow had struck home, somehow. But she sneered right back. "I came to speak to you about serious matters, and I find you acting like a child. How typical."

"Ah, but that's the thing about power, isn't it?" Rumplestiltskin's voice dropped to a low growl, almost a purr. "When you have enough of it, you can act however you wish, and no one will dare stop you." One finger went up, striking the air like he was poking holes in Zelena's illusions. "But I can understand your confusion. You have rebellious princesses and irritating outlaws undermining you left and right."

"Don't test my patience, Rumplestiltskin!"

"I'll test that and more." He laughed easily. "But do come into my office and we'll talk about your little problems."

Zelena glared, but she followed him out of the room. Sighing, Belle watched them leave, hating the way she saw Rumplestiltskin's darkness dancing right to the surface. It wasn't that Queen Zelena wasn't a thoroughly vile woman who deserved the worst he could say to her—Belle still remembered the way Zelena had threatened her, and it sent chills down her spine—but Belle hated to see Rumplestiltskin embrace his nastiness like this. There was a good man under the darkness, one capable of love. Yet he kept that goodness buried so deeply, like he was afraid of what might happen if he showed it to others. Instead, he embraced the mask of the monster, seeming to revel in it. And now he was associating with the Evil Queen, the most feared woman in the entire Enchanted Forest. But why?

Sucking in a deep breath, Belle made her decision. Rising, she followed Rumplestiltskin and Zelena towards his tower.

"I want to know where your mother hid my mother's odious former husband." Zelena probably thought she sounded regal when she made that demand, but she really just sounded like a petulant child.

So, Rumplestiltskin giggled. "You would, would you? Sorry to disappoint you, Your Majesty, but I don't know. Nor do I care."

"Do you have any control over that horrible bat of a woman? She's living in your castle, and she's—"

"She's my mother." Lunging forward, Rumplestiltskin wrapped his hand around Zelena's neck, using magic to propel them both until her back slammed hard into the wall. Several items in a nearby bookshelf rattled madly, and a tapestry almost fell on them both, but he didn't care. "Insult her again, and see how easily you can fail to leave this castle."

"You need me." Zelena rolled her eyes, scoffing. "I might not know what your plan is, Rumple, but we both know that you wouldn't spend so much time teaching me and helping me if you didn't have something in mind."

Damn her intelligence. Zelena was a pain in the posterior, but she was smart. And she was far more ruthless than Regina ever would have been, even if Cora had raised her. That, of course, wasn't necessarily a good thing. Nor was Zelena's utter amorality. Both were things he hadn't wanted in his curse caster, but she was right. He needed her.

Still, he wasn't going to admit that, not to her face.

"Plans can change, dearie," Rumplestiltskin snapped. "Don't tempt me too much." But he did let her go. Letting her think that she'd won this round was probably advisable. He didn't need her too cowed, after all.

"Of course they can." Zelena straightened her dress and her hair dismissively. "I don't mind that you have plans in mind for me, but I do insist that you show me a little respect. And if you're going to get things from me, I want things from you."

He snorted. "Such as?"

"I want my sister dead! She saved that little brat from me, and she got the life I should have had!" Zelena wheeled on him, her eyes flashing furiously. "I want her dead!"

"Have fun with the fratricide, then." Rumplestiltskin shrugged; he knew that Morgan would prevent Regina's death—she'd grown quite fond of Cora's younger daughter—but it would be good to see Zelena keep trying. The more frustrated she was, the better.

"Your stupid mother is protecting her." Zelena glared at him like this was his fault.

"Well, then I suggest you take it up with her." He waved a hand. "Not my problem."

Zelena hrumpfed angrily. "Do you have no control over your mother at all?"

"No. Nor do I want to. Easier to cage the wind." Rumplestiltskin didn't bother not to roll his eyes; Zelena was often on about how Morgan kept her from properly hurting Regina. Morgan hadn't actually lifted a finger against her, of course, but she didn't have to. Zelena knew that going after Rumplestiltskin's mother would make him destroy her.

"Fine." Zelena drew herself up again, making a great show of self-control. "Regina doesn't matter, anyway. Once I kill my brat of a stepdaughter, she'll mean nothing. But I insist on getting something in return for being used."

"And my training isn't something in return?" Rumplestiltskin let his voice grow high pitched, rolling the words off his tongue as if he was more offended than he was. Truth be told, he was a trifle annoyed; Zelena was clever, yes, but he was giving her a gift of magic like she'd never dreamt of when she ran from Oz in hopes of a better life in the Enchanted Forest. She'd known enough magic to make herself into a queen—Evil or Wicked, the common people could never decide which—but not enough for much else. He'd given her that. "I think you overestimate your own worth, dearie."

She sniffed. "You're hardly training me out of the goodness of your heart."

"Of course not! Who said I have any goodness in me to give?" He laughed at that one, dancing away from this student who sometimes reminded him far too much of her mother.

"I'll have the dagger by then, Rumple, dear. We both know that you're only so clever, and I know you all too well. I will find it easily. Then we'll make up for lost time." Decades later, those words still made him shiver in sick fear. Cora had meant them—and given half a chance, he was fairly certain that Zelena would do the same.

After all, he was well aware of the harem she kept buried deep in her castle, the one full of pretty but heartless men. He'd actually cherished some unkind hopes that Killian Jones would find himself amongst their number, but the odious pirate still seemed to be free.

"Your mother's little maid seems to think you do." Zelena laughed, but the way she said the words made Rumplestiltskin's nerves stand on edge. "One would think she even fancied you, judging from the way she looked at you!"

He gave her his nastiest smile. "Well, I do have that effect on women." A trilling giggle. "Your mother could have told you that, had she survived."

The low blow landed just as he'd hoped, making Zelena flinch, but alas, it did not distract her from the subject of Belle. "Don't tell me you're bedding the little twit. She can't be interesting enough for you."

Perhaps I like a little light in my life, he didn't say, even as Zoso chimed in: Even this one would be better than that stupid maid! And you know she wants you. That thought was nauseating, but the alternative of telling Zelena how he felt about Belle was even stupider. He wouldn't endanger Belle like that, wouldn't let Zelena know what the girl meant to him.

"Of course she isn't." He snorted with as much derision as he could muster, thinking about how unlikely it was that Belle actually cared about him as anything more than a friend. That helped him feel incredulous, at any rate. "What kind of lackwit do you take me for?"

"You're male." Zelena rolled her eyes. "It doesn't usually take much."

"I'm the Dark One, not some idiot man led by my desires." He waved a hand, shoving his guilt behind a cold façade and another giggle. "Do you think I could feel anything for anyone like that? She's nothing. Get to the point of your visit, assuming you have one. Or leave."

"She's nothing. Get to the point of your visit, assuming you have one. Or leave."

She's nothing. The words echoed in Belle's mind over and over again, overriding whatever answer Zelena gave. Blinking rapidly, she pulled away from the door to Rumplestiltskin's work room, heading down the stairs as fast as she could. She's nothing.

What an idiot she'd been. Eavesdroppers always deserved to hear the worst about themselves, and Belle had heard just that. She supposed she deserved it, but—She's nothing. Belle had started to hope, to really, really hope…and now she knew that she'd been a fool. Rumplestiltskin acted differently with her than he did with Zelena, but when she wasn't there, he told the truth, didn't he?

Her room was too far away, so Belle shut herself into the library to cry.

A/N: Next up, Chapter 12—"If You Love Her…", in which Belle says something she regrets, Rumplestiltskin tries a romantic gesture, and words are said that cannot be unsaid.

Also, please check out my new story "Ruins of Motherhood" for the tale of how Morgan left her son with Malcolm.