She's so brave. That's just one of the many thoughts that I have as I look at her, Belle's expression determined, the look in her eyes not faltering, her faith in Rumpelstiltskin so unwavering. She actually believes, actually trusts that monster to not hurt her. She believes in the love that he has for her, believes in it's power to keep her safe. She's wrong though, they all are. No matter what they might think they know of him, I know best the Dark One's true nature. I know of the weakling, the scared cringing coward AND the revenge minded monster who hadn't even hesitated to strike down the last woman to have betrayed him. He had loved her too, had loved Milah with everything his cowardly heart had been capable of, and she had still died. Murdered by his own hand, by his rampant jealousy, Rumpelstiltskin is not capable of letting go. Not of Milah, not of his own son, and certainly not of a treasure like Belle. He'd see her dead first, destroy any chance of her happiness, of her light and her love being given to another.

Its the key difference between us, the Dark One and I both very bad men. Capable as I am of doing a great many evils, I stop short of killing, of hurting a woman who has come to mean so much to me, and of hurting her in THAT way. It doesn't mean that I can be any less jealous, that I don't fan that feral aggression inside me, wanting to both own and to protect her, Belle that vital something I've gone too long without understanding, unable to appreciate, unable to even acknowledge. It's a great many late blooming realizations that I've had this day, that I still continue to have, one epiphany after another hitting me, scaring me with what I may have lost.

It is that, both the fears and the epiphanies, that weigh my heart down. That have me staring, my eyes not only drinking in Belle's surface beauty, but seeing past it, to the woman, to the brave, passionate soul inside. She's so fierce and determined, quietly enduring the weight of the world, of Storybrooke, of everyone's expectations. It leaves her staggered but not crushed, Belle a survivor of a hurt that is a million times worse. That hurt, the strain of it, wreaks havoc on her slender frame, leaves her skin leeched of most of it's color. Belle is exhausted, tired of so much, maybe even tired of ME. I can't say I blame her, not after all I have done, all I have put her through. All I STILL put her through, Belle both frightened and wary as she looks back at me. It's like a slap to the face, her mistrust and her fear, Belle a bundle of raw hurt that I've no clue yet on how to soothe.

But I want to TRY. I want to do more than just try, I want to set things right, am ready to dedicate an eternity to the attempt. I want to make it up to her, want to show as well as tell Belle what a fool I have been. I want that second and third and even fourth chance, want to make a go of it now that I am free of the madness that had once poisoned me. I want US, want more than the idea of it but the reality, no more stolen moments but instead everything out in the open. I want to be able to shout to the world, take pride in the fact that everyone knows, Belle mine and I hers.

But more than that I want Belle SAFE. I want to take her from this place, from this town if need be. I want to put as much distance between us and it's problems, it's Savior and it's heroes, the trouble that they drag us all into. I want Belle out of danger, and I want the threat of Rumpelstiltskin gone.

The irony isn't lost on me. I want her safe, but it's a danger she MUST risk. The bait to our trap, the distraction that will buy us all the time needed to locate the dagger, Belle HAS to go in alone to face Rumpelstiltskin. The very idea of it I rebel against, a cold fear surging through me, the worry lodging itself in my throat. I look at Belle and I can't help but wonder if this will be the last time I get to see her, if instead it will be Milah all over again.

It makes me hesitate when every second wasted is precious. But I feel as though I can't leave, can't go without telling her. My feelings, my deepest regrets, it all wants to come out, the words bubbling in me, giving rise to my tongue. I need to apologize as much as I need to reassure her, Belle mattering more than Emma had ever.

"Belle, I..."

I don't get to finish. Hell I barely get to start. The queen is snapping irritably at me, her loud snarling disapproval swallowing up and drowning out my words. She's not the audience I want for such a conversation, and Regina's not the type to tolerate any delays and distractions. We're all just tools to her, Belle, myself, the savior, and the others. More villain than not, Regina is only out for herself and for her son Henry, and THAT more than her words, is what I take to heart.

I can't stop the smirk, can't stop the darkness from creeping into my determined gaze. The queen and I are not so different in intent, both of us having someone we want to protect. It's a driving desire, the need to safeguard that which is most precious, that can and will lead us to do our worst. I won't hesitate any more than Regina or Rumpelstiltskin would, I can't, Belle's safety, her life, and our future at stake. I'm more certain than ever that it's all dependent on my actions, on what I must ultimately do. The dagger needs to be found, and to be found by ME. Only myself, and to a lesser extent the queen, have the stomach and fortitude to do that which is ultimately needed. Only the two of us will see the necessity of it, the others stalling, actually burdened by the memory of that monster's last sacrifice. It will be the excuse that they give themselves, lying that he's changed, that he deserves another chance. They'll keep on thinking that right up to the point that Belle is laying crumpled at his feet, that noble heart of hers crushed to a fine powder by his unforgiving fist.

I won't let that happen, won't let him crush the heart of another good woman. I'll do what I have to, hurt who I need to, and maybe one day SHE can forgive me. I don't look to Belle in that moment, don't let the thought of her anger, of her future hurt and confusion, stop me from what I'm planning. Nothing can, not even the idea of her hate, not when I do this for Belle's benefit as much as, if not more than for my own.

I then give the queen a mocking bow in return, speak words that are laced with a cheeky kind of insolence. The queen frowns at me, Regina hardly amused by my lack of respect but before she can say anything more or even threaten me, I take off running. The others have a bit of a head start on me, but I know until the house is secured, until it has actually been confirmed that the witch is not there, no real searching can begin.

Emma and the others have already entered inside the house, by the time I reach it's front door. Someone has made quick work of it's two locks, and a part of me can't help wonder if it was Robin's expertise at work here, or if Neal has learned a few new tricks since leaving Neverland. But the answer to that doesn't really matter, not in the grand scheme of things. I've a woman to save, a future to secure, and I'll accomplish none of it if I don't get a move on.

Determined as I am, it's still a cautious step I take forward, waiting to see if the witch's magic will strike me down. Nothing happens, and I grow braver, creeping forward and listening for sounds. I hear the faintest sound of footsteps, a noise that might just be coming from above me. A door on the first floor creaks open, and I realize the three that have gone on ahead of me have split up. On one hand I admire their nerve, and the quick efficiency they show at checking the house. But the other finds them fool hardy, a united front so much better for minimizing risks when it comes to bearding a witch of any kind in her own lair.

It's a cozier lair than I had expected, a downright homey feel to my surroundings. Furnished in the style of this modern world, there's nothing to outwardly betray the witch or her magic. There's not even a tingle of it in the air, not so much as a surreal flicker of a spell. Is it because Zelena still tries to hide her true nature, or is it because the Dark One in her possession is all the fail safe she needs, to protect her wicked ambitions? I fear it's the latter, fear what will happen should the dark one awaken. I'm not scared for myself or for the others, but for Belle, for what may happen to her if her presence alone is not enough of a distraction.

That fear urges me to hurry and would render me to be careless. It takes a concentrated effort to subdue the worst of that fear's impulse, my skin prickling with unease, the back of me burning with the possibly paranoid sense that someone is watching. But when I turn there is no one, not the witch or the savior, or the two thieves. There is however a small statue, some kind of demonic looking cat whose emerald eyes glint with real menace. There's something about those two emeralds, something familiar though I cannot place what. They don't distract from the most important part of the statue, the fact that it's small body is just long enough to possibly house the dagger.

The statue is the first thing I destroy at Emma's shout. I watch it smash against the thinly carpeted floor, watch the black dust that stirs up from it's ebony remains, but there's nothing there aside from the emeralds. I feel a real disappointment to have been foiled, and yet it's not entirely what I haven't expected. It would take a luckier man than me to find the dagger on the first try, and I hold in my sigh.

The all clear given at Emma's shout, the house is now alive with sound. Neither Neal nor Robin Hood being at all quiet with what they are doing. More things smash to the ground, and I too add to the mess we are making of Zelena's home. My sharp hook tears into every cushion, feathers and stuffing tossed everywhere. I am tearing apart her pillows, her couch, breaking every lamp, every kick knack that is big enough to hide the dagger inside. From the kitchen I hear Robin, the man rattling pots and pans, breaking apart jars, and over turning drawers. There's even the crash of metal that is the kitchen's cutlery, Robin searching through the mundane every day knives and forks and coming up empty for all his efforts.

I hear something hit the floor, the ceiling above me muting the worst of the sound. Then the noise repeats itself, and my curiosity drives me upstairs to discover Neal in what passes for the witch's library. Some of the many books are already on the floor, and the man doesn't have to explain for me to guess at what he's doing. Neal's checking each and every individual book, looking for one that might be a hollowed out facsimile that could possibly hide the dagger. That he hasn't found it yet is a source of frustration, Neal angry and frantic, muttering a great many things-half of which are curses, under his breath.

An open door just across from the library, brings me into the witch's bedroom. Zelena's taste is a little more indulgent here, silk green bed sheets, and expensive black lace curtains, beaded emerald colored tassels, and a large, ornate mirror with a ebony polished frame. There's a jewelry box on a dresser, and it's already open, opals and emeralds gleaming next to an array of bottles and powders. I am cautious as I approach what looks like her makeup supply, not trusting that the powders aren't magic, that the perfumes aren't potions, and that the clear color lotions are not some kind of poison.

Careful not to disturb even one bottle, I began pulling out and overturning each of the dresser's drawers. Even her underwear looks expensive, the dark green and black fabrics now a wrinkled pile on the floor. There's not much more than shoes and clothing in her closet, and I take a twisted satisfaction in ripping apart several of her dresses. Something thumps to the floor, a key discovered hidden amongst a gown's corset. I carefully pick it up and pocket it, wondering if somewhere in this house, there is a door it fits into.

I hear a sound come from behind me, a groan and a thump. I rush out of the closet, only to find that Neal has finished with Zelena's library. I don't share with him my findings, don't offer to help him with his upheaval of the bed. The mattress ends up half of it's frame, and two flat, rectangular boxes are unearthed beneath it. Neal quickly pulls them free, take apart the white cardboard and finds a hat in one, and a pair of black silk, elbow length gloves in the other.

I make a show of tearing apart the bed and it's pillows, stuffing bleeding out as I carve open the center of the mattress. I don't expect to find more than the metal springs inside it, and in that the witch doesn't disappoint. Still I can see how disheartened that leaves Neal, the man beginning to feel how hopeless a quest this might be. I keep quiet about the key in my pocket, and make no attempt to lift up his spirits. It suits me just fine if Neal were to give up, and would actually leave me with just Robin downstairs to contend with. I can hear by all the crashing and thumping that the thief is still at it, still tearing about the house. By the sound of it, he'll soon be inside the walls, tearing apart the house's very foundation in an effort to find the dagger. I can do no less, the key in my pocket belonging to something, a door or a chest, and I just had to find it.

I don't get the chance. I'm passing by a window that's been smashed open, when I hear it. a woman's scream amidst all the noise that Robin is making. My blood chills at the sound of it, at the sheer panic, the terror that the woman gives voice to. I can't see what is going on, this part of the house positioned in such a way that gives off a great view of the green apple trees but leaves me blind to everything else. I can see neither the back yard, nor the front where the cellar doors lay, fueled by a panic that steals away all clear headed thought, the terror inside me giving voice to an answering scream.

"Belle!"

The scream that roars out of me rouses Neal from the floor. I'm already halfway down the stairs by the time the man is out on the second floor's landing. He doesn't ask me what is going on, maybe hadn't even heard Belle's scream over the noise that Robin had been making. But he's heard mine, and he's seen my reaction, and that alone is enough, Neal shouting to Robin as I race through the downstairs of the house.

I'm so scared for her that I am not thinking. So scared I've momentarily forgotten the search for the dagger. There's no thought in my head for the fact that I need it, that the dagger is the only thing that can be used to stop the Dark One dead in his tracks. It's all animal need, an instinct to protect the woman that I care for, that drives me forward. I don't hesitate, rushing headfirst into danger, intent on protecting, on saving Belle with nothing more than my fist and my hook to defend her.

She screams a second time, and it's louder now. I burst out the front door of the house just in time to see Belle scrambling up on her hands and knees, basically crawling up the last two steps of the cellar. She's so pale and frightened, actively crying, falling once before lurching upright to scramble to safety. There's nothing but darkness behind her, the shadows of the cellar swallowing up even the sunlight. Those coiling tendrils of inky blackness are not idle, snaking out of the cellar, snapping at Belle's heels. One actually tries to wrap around her ankle, and its only a fireball that severs it's intent.

Something other than Belle and the danger that she is in, registers. I hear the queen's voice, hear Regina snapping at Emma, telling her to put that pistol away, that's it's not bullets but magic that is going to save the day. The queen is only half right, for it's a certain kind of magic that is needed, and it's one we don't yet have. And maybe we'll never, Belle's attempt at a distraction failing, none of us a step closer to the dagger.

And then I am there, reaching for Belle. My fingers close around her wrist, and then I pull her past a defense that is actively bickering, Regina glaring at Emma rather than at that growing mass of darkness. She's got fireballs aglow in each hand, and expects the savior to do the same. Emma seems loathe to put away her gun, ignoring Regina's needling as she stares at the darkness.

"Hook, I don't suppose you've come with the dagger...?"

I don't answer, too focused on Belle. Too aware of her shaking, and the ice cold feel of her skin. She's openly crying, sobbing with her terror, ready to sink into my embrace, and it's all I can do to NOT hold her. But I'm aware of the creeping darkness, and of the monster that hides within it, Rumpelstiltskin a big enough threat without me giving him further provocation. It is with the greatest of reluctance that I push Belle behind me, shielding her with my body as I brace myself for what comes next.

"Hook!?" Emma again, and that exasperated sound can't hide the savior's own fright. There's very few people that can face off against the dark one, and even less that can do so without fear. I think even the queen is worried, though she'd never admit to it. She flings another fireball at the darkness, while muttering something about being surrounded by incompetents.

"What happened down there?!"

"It was a trick!" Belle cries out, her fingers having found purchase on my arm. I feel her trembling form press against my back, feel her clinging to me for a comfort that I cannot yet give. "Zelena..." Her voice broke on a sob. "Zelena was toying with us from the start!"

"Still think it's not a good idea to have her kiss Gold free of his curse?!" I growl in response to what Regina sarcastically asks Emma, and hear the soft gasp that Belle lets out behind me. I can't tell what that gasp means, can't tell if she's frightened of the idea, or if Belle has already tried to do exactly that and failed.

I don't get to ask. The cellar itself seems to explode, one of the doors shooting up into the sky. The darkness remains, and in the heart of it comes the sound of slow, menacing footsteps. Each step against the concrete stairs is like a hammer falling, and it feels like an eternity passes, before the Dark One emerges from the cellar. He takes his time, or so I assume, my hate such that I at first don't notice the odd, wooden way that he moves. Like he's fighting every step of the way, his odd broken movements very much like a reluctant puppet on a string.

He steps onto the grass, his arm lifting up to do something, An arrow slams into the turf, Robin having arrived to fire off a warning. Rumpelstiltskin steps down onto the arrow, let's it snap and crumble apart under his foot. He looks at us, and his eyes have gone all black like the shadows that trail out of the cellar.

"Zelena sends her regards." He says, and with a wave of his arm, Emma and Regina go flying back. I hear Neal scream out the savior's name, and watch as Robin waste arrow after arrow as he inches his way towards the fallen queen. I want to scream at Rumpelstiltskin, to ask him just what it is that that witch wants, but more than that I just want him gone. All the hatred that he inspires is alight in my expression, my lip curling as I growl. For once that hate isn't mirrored in the Dark One's expression, Rumpelstiltskin more resigned than anything, as he points a finger at Belle and I. "Interfere again, in ANY way..." He says. "And I WILL kill you."

"Rumple!" Belle protests with a moan.

His eyes try to see past my body to the woman that hides behind it. And then the broken movement happens again, Rumpelstiltskin taking time to point at each and every one of us. "I'll kill ALL of you."

"Papa, no!" Neal cries out, his voice in his anguish making him sound more like the boy he had once been rather than the man he was now.

"Damn it Gold, you've proven better than this!" Emma shouts from where she crouches on the grass. I hear Regina's answering groan, but the queen doesn't actually say anything in response to what Emma had just said.

"Much as I hate to suggest it..." It's Robin who speaks now, and a glance his ways shows him down on one knee, hovering protectively over Regina. I don't know how badly she has been hurt, or if just that Regina's a little disoriented, but either way it's clear she won't be wielding her magic any time soon. "Perhaps a retreat is in order?"

It's not the most liked of options, but right now it's the only one left to us. We're at an impasse otherwise, destined to die at Rumpelstiltskin's hand whether we fight or whether we try to search for the dagger. The Dark One himself stands at the ready, the shadows itself an extension of his body. He watches us but makes no further move, making it clear that whatever Zelena is up to, she wants us all alive to witness it. She's toying with us like Belle had said, giving us a glimmer of hope that she revels in destroying. I don't know what Zelena's reasons are, and right now I don't care. In fact I think none of us do, too intent on running, on living to fight another day.

To Be Continued...

Oooh sleepy as I wrap this up. It's just after 5:15 am. X_X Didn't think I'd finish the chapter before bed but I got a burst of energy at the last possibly minute. Wondering if I have enough left in me to proof read and spell check, or if I should wait until after I get some sleep...*ponders*

This is actually my second attempt at this chapter. The first attempt I tried on Saturday, and well it didn't capture the feelings that I wanted. It went right into the search for the dagger. I am much happier with how the second attempt shaped up, though it was a very slow writing process...I'm glad to have this chapter over and done with though!

I'd probably ramble some more, but I am tired. I've noticed in my rereading, especially for ten and eleven, that there was more typos than usual. I've vowed to myself to reread through all the chapters (After I get some sleep) to try and find and fix as many of those mistakes as I can. Sadly no matter how often I fix it up, I always find a typo I have missed in my next reread. it really drive me up the wall insane. X_X

Laters!

-Michelle

Guest, yes...she so doesn't want to hurt him. She's trying so hard, and she's beating herself up inside..and Hook isn't making things easier...neither is Zelena for that matter...