Ruby had agreed to step up to the plate and take over running the sheriff's office for Emma while she had her 'honeymoon', shut up in the house with Neal and no interruptions. Running the office and actually taking on the role of deputy/acting sheriff/whatever though... well, people were on their best behaviour, so nothing more than fielding phone calls about loud neighbours (and/or their dogs) was actually needed.
It seemed that trouble had decided to wait until Emma was back on duty again before it, quite literally, sailed into town.
On a pirate ship.
On a pirate ship that was all too familiar to Rumplestiltskin, though he'd not seen it for the better part of three-hundred years. The people who stepped down off the ship's gangway were even more familiar as he narrowed his eyes at the surveillance footage.
The percentage of the docks that was property of Mr Darcy Gold was not small, so it was hardly a surprise that, upon reaching the docks, the ship had berthed at one owned by him. Still, it felt like a slap in the face that the pair hadn't had the decency to weigh anchor at one of the few that belonged to someone else, even if they didn't know.
The reason he was looking was because Henry had run into the shop, full-tilt and almost straight from school, saying he'd seen someone new in town, and they had a hook for one hand. Belle had immediately grabbed Mr Gold's gun (just in case), taken Henry's hand, and walked with the boy to Granny's. There, Ruby and the old battleaxe that was Granny would be able to keep the lad safe while Neal and Charming were at work, Emma was on patrol around the town in the squad car, and Snow was busy either packing up her classroom or setting up her new office – all of them as yet unaware of the threat that had just sailed into town. Belle had never met Killian Jones, but she'd dusted his severed hand enough times that she'd been able to wheedle pretty much the whole of the story out of Rumplestiltskin without too much difficulty.
In fact, the first time it had twitched while she was dusting it, and she'd given a yelp of surprise, Rumplestiltskin had shared the essential parts of the story. Every time after that, he'd share a few more of the details in regards to how he'd come to have that hand in his collection, and how he'd met the pirate.
That hand was one of many things that hadn't been brought through by the curse. Just as well, really. It would be a bit hard to explain to anybody who came poking around the shop.
Rumplestiltskin had to smirk to himself though, despite his displeasure at the sight of these particular new arrivals in town. Cora had attempted to use magic practically the second she was off the ship, and the expression on her face when she realised her magical impotence... It wasn't perfectly clear on the surveillance footage – the cameras out at the docks weren't quite as good as the ones installed in various buildings throughout the town – but Rumplestiltskin knew the woman well enough that he could make up for it.
The shock. The confusion. The wide-eyed horror. The rage. The wonderfully impotent rage. He closed his eyes to fix that in his mind, to savour it while it was fresh.
Even if the footage itself was actually an hour old.
With a sigh, Rumplestiltskin saved the piece of footage as a short video file and emailed it off to the sheriff, along with a description of the two characters it showed. He'd just clicked the 'send' button when the bell over the shop door chimed, and the door itself banged loudly. Rumplestiltskin looked up from the computer and swallowed tightly.
There was Jones, all angry and young and strong, with his only infirmity being the lack of hand – and that had been replaced by a very shiny hook that he no doubt kept very sharp.
"Tick tock," the pirate growled as he rounded the counter, moving faster than Rumplestiltskin could with his limp back again. "Time's up, Crocodile," Jones declared fiercely as he plunged his hook into Rumplestiltskin's chest.
Not into his heart, and that probably more by luck than design, but it was certainly painful.
"You took Milah. My love, my happiness," he hissed as he wrenched the hook out of Rumplestiltskin's flesh again and held it aloft. "And for that, I now take your life."
Bang.
"Argh!"
"The hell you will," Belle growled as the pirate fell, Mr Gold's gun in her hands and blood flowing from the middle of the pirate's back as he collapsed onto the floor. "Sire?" she called hopefully as she lowered the weapon and rushed around the counter to him.
Rumplestiltskin pulled his shirt aside to look at the wound.
"Damn," he breathed with a grimace. "Dreamshade. Don't even think of sucking the poison out, Belle," he warned. "You'd just poison yourself as well and I'd be no better off. No cure exists outside of Neverland."
"Which means you never thought you'd need a cure for it," Belle guessed, desperately trying for calm and wry, even as her master was dying in front of her.
Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "An oversight on my part, it now seems," he noted.
"Well, it looks like I've got to face a dragon," Belle declared softly.
"Belle?" Rumplestiltskin asked, eyes wide.
She raised an eyebrow at him. "You don't seriously think I'm just going to let you die, do you?" she demanded gently. "I swore to serve you for the rest of my life, not the rest of yours," she reminded him with a smile. A smile that let him know that she was motivated by the care she held for him more than the contract she signed, but the latter was still relevant.
"Belle, Cora's here too," Rumplestiltskin whispered.
"Saints on fire and Peter Pan in the bloody nursery," Belle grumbled, then sighed. "Alright, well, I'm going to take you home at least. Then I'll start getting everything cleaned up. You're not going to die too quickly, right?" she checked.
"I should have a few hours at least," Rumplestiltskin confirmed. "Longer if I don't do anything strenuous."
Belle nodded. "Okay. We can get through this," she avowed, and helped her master to his feet, and out to the car.
~oOo~
Once Belle had settled her master on one of the couches in the living room – it was on the ground floor, and the bedrooms were all upstairs – she locked the front door of the house and headed out to the car. She'd called the hospital before she even reached the car door.
"Storybrooke General Hospital," greeted the voice of the receptionist.
"Could you please send an ambulance around to Mr Gold's pawnshop?" Belle requested. "There should be a man on the floor there with a bullet hole in his back."
"What?!" yelped the woman on the other end of the line.
"Well, he'd just shoved a pointed metal implement into Mr Gold's chest," Belle defended as she slid into the driver's seat. "I think I was very restrained in not shooting him in the head."
"R-right," the woman agreed tremulously. "I'll... I'll send an ambulance right over. Will... will Mr Gold also be...?"
"I've got that under control," Belle assured the woman as she started the car. "Please let Sheriff Swan know about the incident though," she requested before she hung up, and backed the car out of the driveway.
She needed to collect a sword from the pawnshop before she went down to face Maleficent, and she needed to collect a couple of other things as well.
Belle arrived at the shop before the ambulance. It seemed the receptionist was in too much shock at the idea of a shooting to have alerted the relevant people all that fast. Then again, Jones was still bleeding and groaning on the floor, so it wasn't too much of a problem just now. As far as she was concerned anyway. It would be a pain to mop up the blood later, but it was hardly a priority right this very moment.
Belle moved past him quickly, out to the back room, and grabbed a tiny key from a drawer. She slipped it into an otherwise empty pocket of her purse, and headed back out to the main floor of the shop. She considered the swords that were kept in a bin in one corner, toyed briefly with the idea of taking Charming's, which was in a case on a shelf above all the other swords, but ultimately decided to take the one strapped to Hook's side. He'd tried to put Rumplestiltskin in his grave. It was only right, as far as Belle was concerned, that his sword be used to help save him. That is, if negotiation failed her.
The ambulance arrived.
Belle moved quickly to one of the picture frames, and pulled it back to reveal a little hidden compartment, with a dual-ended candle resting on a stand. The gems around the middle of the candle – one end white, the other black – were as red as ever. Belle didn't even hesitate in shoving the candle into her purse. She was careful not to damage it though.
The paramedics entered the shop and Belle pointed them to where Jones was slowly bleeding to death before exiting the shop.
"Belle?" Leroy/Grumpy called, curiosity and confusion in his voice. "What's going on? Has something happened?"
"Leroy, could you do me a quick little favour?" Belle asked.
The dwarf frowned. "What sort of favour?" he questioned cautiously, eyes lingering on the sword that Belle was carrying.
"I just need you to work an old elevator for me," Belle answered. "I need to get something from the library basement, but the lift can only be worked from outside."
"I can do that," Leroy agreed easily. He followed Belle to the car, and slid into the passenger side even as Belle tossed the sword into the back and climbed into the driver's seat. "What will I get in return for this favour?" he asked, just a little cheekily, but intensely conscious of the sword that was on the back seat.
"Not sure yet," Belle answered shortly, and flashed the dwarf a very quick, quite tense, smile. She appreciated the effort, but she really wasn't in the mood for jokes right now. "I'll owe you one."
Leroy shook his head. "Don't worry about it," he dismissed. "I was really just kidding."
Belle parked the car in front of the library. It wasn't far between the shop and the library, but every second counted, as far as Belle was concerned. Rumplestiltskin said he had a few hours before the dreamshade killed him, but Belle knew that he would be in excruciating pain in the meantime.
She left her purse in the car, beneath the seat where no one would see it, grabbed the sword, and then she and Leroy headed into the library.
Lacking the correct key, Belle just broke the lock to get them in. She'd pay damages later. Or maybe fix it with magic. After all, she was about to bring magic to Storybrooke.
She got into the lift, and Leroy lowered it.
"Maleficent!" Belle called out as she strode out of the elevator. "Maleficent! I know you're down here! You've got something that I need!"
A large, black, reptilian head rose out of the shadows.
"Maleficent, I am Belle, princess of Avonlea and the Marshlands, and servant to the Dark One, Rumplestiltskin. You have something that I need," she said firmly as she stared up at those large green eyes. "And I'd just as soon not have to kill you for it."
The large head lowered, the eyes narrowed, and the teeth were bared.
"You can't transform back," Belle noted, "because there is no magic in this land, but you're just as intelligent under those scales as ever. You were visited by a prince, back in your castle, before Regina cast the curse. He had a golden egg with him. What did he do with it?"
Maleficent, despite the scales and snout, clearly wore an expression in that moment that demanded to know why she should be helpful at all.
"I need it to bring magic back to this land," Belle said.
Maleficent turned her great head to the side, and fanned out the scales around her neck.
Belle reached in and grabbed the glinting gold she could see through the orange glow of heat there – and hissed in pain at the burns she got for her troubles. But she had the egg.
"Thank you," she said, backed into the lift, the golden egg cradled against her stomach.
"You needed a sword to get that out of the basement?" Leroy asked when he saw the ornate egg in Belle's arms.
"The sword was a precautionary measure," Belle explained with a smile, glad she hadn't actually needed to kill Maleficent for it. She would have if she needed to, if Maleficent's mind had been lost from twenty-eight years in that form and with no socialisation, but killing the dark fairy wasn't necessarily the most practical thing to do. "Thanks Leroy."
"Any time," the dwarf agreed, still confused, but he left her on her own after that as Belle hustled straight to the car. The egg went into her purse with the key and the candle, and Belle drove out to the cemetery.
Regina kept more than just Graham's heart in her vault, if Belle remembered correctly, and she was pretty damn sure that she did.
Belle pushed aside the casket of Henry Mills and ran down the steps as fast as she could without breaking her own neck. When she reached Regina's vault, she took a deep, calming breath, and started searching systematically for what she'd gone there looking for.
A case full of boxes, but Belle only wanted one particular box. A glowing red light shone out, but between glowing pulses, the heart was clearly black all over.
Belle shut the box again, and hurried back out of the vault with it, and took the car as far out into the woods as she could get it. Out in the direction of the old wishing well. The well that was filled with the waters of Lake Nostos.
When she was unable to take the car any further, Belle grabbed her purse and the heart out of the box.
"Come to me," Belle called softly as she squeezed the heart – but not too hard – in one hand as she jogged along the faint trail that led through the woods to the well. "Come, come little witch, old and shrivelled bitch, owner of this black-painted heart."
Belle reached the well.
She placed the heart in her purse and took out the egg and the key. The key unlocked the egg, the egg opened to reveal a vial of glowing, glittering, purple potion. Belle uncorked the bottle and carefully dripped a little drop of the potion into the well, and re-corked the bottle quickly. Possibly all of the rest of True Love would be needed to bring magic to Storybrooke, but Belle was fairly sure just a drop or two would be enough.
On the other hand, with magic in Storybrooke again, it shouldn't be hard for Rumplestiltskin to make more of it. Again.
Slowly, purple smoke rose out of the well, it flowed up and over the sides like mist and rose above her like a cloud – and it moved outward.
Belle put the potion back in the egg, and the egg back in her purse, and the key along with them, then removed the candle and the heart from her purse once more. She focused on the feeling of power, on the magic that now swirled around her, and she breathed it in. It felt different here, in this world.
She'd lived for the better part of a decade in Rumplestiltskin's castle. She'd have to be thicker than a concrete slab, and more dull than lead, to not learn how to recognise what magic felt like – and here, it felt different. She'd have to adjust.
Belle focused.
Again, she called the one who owned the heart in her hand to come to her. Then she willed the wicks of the candle in her other hand to light.
Cora came. Two tiny flames slowly flickered to life at each end of the candle.
"Cora," Belle whispered over the candle, over the heart she held below the candle.
Cora's eyes went wide in her face at the sight. She didn't know Belle, didn't understand how the girl could look at her with such ice in her blue eyes as she used the spell that Cora herself (disguised as the Blue Fairy) had once given to Snow White.
Belle blew out the flames at each end of the candle, and squeezed the heart in her hand again. Just enough to make Cora collapse to her knees.
"You know what I've done," Belle informed the woman, almost pleasantly. "But I'm willing to put off your death a little while. I want you to tell me why you came here – and don't tell me you came for Regina. You and I both know you don't really give a damn about your daughter. After all, how can you? You ripped out your own heart because you thought emotions were weakness."
"I want the power of the Dark One," Cora answered through gritted teeth. With her heart in Belle's hand, she had to follow commands. Not to the extent that Rumplestiltskin did if someone had his dagger, but the compulsion, the control of the one holding the heart, was there all the same. "I intend to find his dagger and kill him, take the power for myself. As far as I was concerned, Jones poisoning Rumple was really just to slow him down so that he couldn't fight back at all when I eventually got the dagger."
Belle narrowed her eyes at the older woman that was on her knees before her, and shoved the cursed heart into that hollow chest.
"So no one told you life was gonna be this way -"
"Hey Emma," Belle greeted as she brought the phone to her ear, a smile on her face to make sure there was one in her voice, even as she watched Cora dying on the ground in front of her.
"Regina's locked up, so it can't be her. Pops was, according to your own call to the hospital, stabbed by a character I've been reliably informed is Captain Killian 'Hook' Jones, so I can't think you'd let him be up and doing anything. That just leaves you," Emma rattled off, and she sounded equal parts angry and nervous. "What the hell was that cloud?"
"Magic," Belle answered, easily and instantly.
"Pops said that was to be brought to Storybrooke only in an emergency," Emma recalled softly, and just a little sternly, though her voice also carried a hint of concern.
"Well, Captain Jones' hook was coated in a magical poison from another realm that there's no cure for. He was dying," Belle explained.
"Was?" Emma checked.
"Pretty sure he's not any more, but I haven't had time to check between bringing the magic, performing the spell that ought to save him, and your call," Belle admitted a little ruefully.
She heard Emma sigh down the line.
"How long before Regina uses magic to break out of her cell?" Emma demanded unhappily.
"Magic is different here to what she's used to, and Regina wasn't exactly my master's best student," Belle offered with a private little smile that no one saw. No one living, anyway. Cora's eyes were frozen open in her death. "She'd be lucky to get one tumbler to turn over in a month, and that's if she's even aware that magic is back at all. If feels different, so if she didn't see the cloud, then she probably doesn't even know to try."
"Fine, but if she gets out this side of Independence Day, and it wasn't because Sydney tried to break her out again -" the ex-genie had already made one go at it, and was currently in a holding cell awaiting trial for that. "- then I'm holding you personally responsible."
"Gotcha," Belle agreed with a chuckle. "But on the other hand, you should be perfectly capable of magic, likely more powerful magic than Regina, so if you study, she won't be a problem even if she ever does break out."
"Great," Emma grumbled. "Study."
Belle laughed.
Emma said her goodbyes and hung up.
Belle did likewise, then she turned to the body of the dead woman in front of her and considered the prone, still, lifeless form. Cora had, once, been Rumplestiltskin's lover, sort of, and she'd given him joy, even if only for a little while. For that – and for no other reason at all – Belle would see the horrible woman interred beside her husband in the Mills crypt of this world, rather than simply incinerated where she lay and her ashes left there, forgotten in the middle of the woods.
~oOo~
"Belle," Rumplestiltskin greeted, voice soft, as she entered the lounge room. He was healed, but he was still tired, and hadn't moved. "Belle."
"Master," she answered with a smile. "I'm glad it worked."
"It," Rumplestiltskin repeated, a neutral inquiry. "Simply bringing magic back to Storybrooke wouldn't be enough to either cure me of the poison, or heal the wound from the hook, and certainly not both."
Belle removed the candle from her purse in silent explanation.
"Belle..." he said softly, his eyes glistening with concern.
"Cora's dead," Belle told him, and she didn't meet his eyes as she said it because she knew that, despite everything, all their many differences, her master would always have a little place in his heart for Cora. Belle returned the candle to her purse. "I interred her next to her husband before I came back... And, there's still some left over," she added as she withdrew the golden egg and set it on the coffee table. "Just a few drops."
Rumplestiltskin gaze fixed on the golden egg in such a way that it was possible he was seeing through it, through the protective casing to the little vial of True Love within.
"Who," he asked tentatively, "did you send down to Maleficent?"
"I went myself," she answered. "Leroy operated the lift for me."
Rumplestiltskin snapped his eyes up to her then. "Princess Belle of Avonlea and the Marshlands, a dragon-slayer," he said softly, utterly awed and retrospectively fearful. He could have lost her when she went to face Maleficent, after all.
Belle smiled sheepishly. "Nothing so dramatic," she corrected with a shake of her head. "I mean, yes I had a sword with me, just in case, but I tried asking nicely first. Maleficent was really quite reasonable about the whole thing, though I did burn myself a little getting the egg out from where Charming had lodged it."
"Where?" Rumplestiltskin demanded at once, and from the way his eyes were now scanning her person, it was clear he meant 'where have you been burned?' and not 'where did Charming put the egg?'.
Belle presented her hand to him, and with a gentle blow and an application of magic by her master, it was all healed up. Belle was glad for it. The burn had stung horribly, though she'd refused to let it slow her down. Getting a candle to light was a much easier magic than healing a burn – and she'd had quite enough difficulty with it out in the woods. Magic was emotion, after all, though the rules were ever-so-slightly different in this land. Regardless; to make fire, an emotion that burned and consumed was needed.
Most people went for anger to make fire with, but Belle was already going to be dipping her metaphorical toe into dark magic with the candle. She knew better than to overwhelm herself with too much darkness at once. It wasn't healthy. So she'd chosen a different passion.
Love. Love for her master, and the way it burned inside of her. The only man she was willing to kill for. Of course, for Rumplestiltskin, Belle would also kill to protect his family as well, but ultimately she would still be killing only for his sake.
And even then she wouldn't kill indiscriminately.
She'd shot Jones in the back, after all. Not the head. Then again, dealing with a dead body in the shop, and dealing with a dead body in the woods, were two totally different things.
"Thank you," Belle said softly as Rumplestiltskin gently stroked the now-healed skin of her previously burned hand.
"You saved my life, Belle," Rumplestiltskin said earnestly. "Healing a burn is pittance in exchange."
"Hmm," Belle allowed neutrally. "So, dreamshade. I suppose you'll be working on an antidote for that, just in case there's a next time?" she checked.
"Definitely," Rumplestiltskin agreed at once. "But... tomorrow, I think. I'm tired."
Belle nodded in understanding. "Up to bed with you then, my precious master. Or would you like a bath first?" she offered.
Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes a moment, and lost himself to contemplation. "I think I need a bath," he decided, and gave a minute grimace at his current state.
Again, Belle nodded. She could see that Rumplestiltskin had become feverish in the short hours she had been apart from him. His shirt was completely soaked through, and his hair was damp and limp from sweat.
Belle leant over her master to kiss his brow – also sweaty – tenderly, and helped him up from the couch. Then she helped him up the stairs, and had him sit on a stool in the bathroom while she ran the water and added soothing salts. It was almost nostalgic.
Rumplestiltskin smiled tiredly, lovingly down at her as she knelt before him to remove his shoes and socks, the former of which she set aside, and the latter were sent to the laundry hamper. She rose up and unbuttoned his vest, then his shirt, and rather than hanging either, both were sent into the hamper with the socks. His top-coat and jacket were both downstairs, hanging by the door.
She gently pulled the ring that Mr Gold always wore – and that Rumplestiltskin had kept the habit of wearing – off his finger, and set it in a dish by the sink so that it wouldn't be lost.
Belle knelt again, and reached for her master's belt-buckle.
The well-tailored slacks that her master wore now were much easier to manage than the trousers he had been wearing the last time Belle had stripped him of his clothing and poured his wearied frame into the tub. He'd been wearing leather trousers that laced up the front and had a bright red lining to hide his golden skin back then.
In this land without magic, Belle had seen a great deal of her master's skin, human and pink as it was now, rather than gilded. This, however, was her first occasion to see all of it since the last time she had assisted him into a bath, back in the Enchanted Forest. As she had then, Belle blushed at the sight. She didn't shyly avert her eyes though, neither did she hesitate to do as she had done then.
Belle worked up a lather in her hands, shampoo rather than soap now, and massaged it through her master's hair. Carefully she rinsed it, and then repeated her motions with the conditioner and rinsed that out as well.
Then she moved down to her master's neck and shoulders – and he groaned in appreciation.
Belle gave in to temptation when she had rinsed away the lather, and placed a tender, soft kiss to Rumplestiltskin's shoulder.
He sighed, and his eyes were closed, but he turned his head towards where she had planted that little kiss. "You are far too good to me," he whispered with all the earnest sincerity of a prayer.
Belle just silently pressed another kiss to his freshly washed skin, and continued to tend to her master. The difference between this bath and the other – apart from indoor plumbing, the colour of her master's skin, and the lack of curls in his hair – was that, this time, Belle didn't stop her massage at just his arms.
Once she'd done his shoulders, back, arms and chest, Belle moved down to the other end of the tub and started at her master's feet. From there, she slowly worked her way up until she'd reached Rumplestiltskin's thighs.
Where she stopped. At his insistence.
"I intend to put a wedding ring on your finger before we go any further, dearie," he said as he gently cupped her cheek in one hand, a tender, devoted look in his eyes.
Belle couldn't help smiling at that.
Rumplestiltskin smiled in answer to her smile. With a chuckle, he shook his head, and waved his hand – the one not cupping Belle's cheek – in a circular motion. A small purple cloud trailed after his fingers with the motion.
A black velvet box appeared in his hand.
"That said," he continued with a hopeful little smile. "Belle, I am in awe of your courage. You faced a dragon on my behalf. You make an old coward like me want to be brave as well. Perhaps me reclining in the bath while you sit on a stool beside me isn't the most romantic setting, and we both know I'm not about to ask your father permission, but will you marry me?" he asked, and opened the little velvet box to reveal a slim, simple, white-gold engagement ring that matched the promise ring he'd given her back on Valentine's Day.
Belle smiled her sunshine beaming smile at him, took the ring from the box and slid it onto her soapy digit, and kissed him. Lips covered lips just so sweetly, a kiss full of blissfully contented love rather than lusty passion.
The sort of kiss that Disney had just about copyrighted as True Love's First Kiss. The kind that was all innocence, purity, sweetness and light, and of course love. The kind that was shy and tentatively begun, but very slowly parted from.
It would have broken the Dark One's curse, if it had been properly active enough to be able to be broken in this land.
"That's a yes then?" Rumplestiltskin guessed, his voice a mere breathless, elated whisper, when they parted.
Belle chuckled lowly. "Yes," she confirmed happily. "That's a yes."
~The End~