Thank you to Jokermask18 for reading my stories as soon as they post. And to royaltylain and wolfbytes99 for your kind words of encouragement. And a huge thank you to all of you who take time to read my work.
The forgetting potion was ready. A quick glance into the crystal ball showed that Snow White and David had defeated the trolls; a slightly longer view of their future showed their story was now completely back on track. And a delay of two days did no lasting harm. Swan and Captain Hook were on their way to his castle, basking in their success; Hook carrying, of all things, a strange woman.
Rumplestiltskin sat at his desk to write a message to himself. I've made and will take a forgetting potion to forget the last few days. Do NOT under any circumstances try to reverse it. There are some things that really are worth forgetting. I'm giving Belle a dosage that will make her forget even more. She will have no memory of Swan or Hook ever being here. STAY AWAY FROM BELLE. She is as dangerous to me as I thought she was at first. Keep your distance both physically and emotionally. Send her away as soon as possible, preferably before the snows come.
Then he measured out a four day dose of the potion, added in a sleeping draft, and headed off to find Belle.
He tracked her to the kitchen where she was chopping vegetables. She slowed but didn't stop, as he entered the room. He placed the vial on the table next to her cutting board. She finished a carrot and threw the pieces into a pot. As she grabbed an onion and began peeling it, she asked angrily, "What if I don't want to forget?"
"Belle," he wheedled, "It's for the best, really. I'm going to take it, too."
She took her knife and smashed it through the onion's middle. As the onion's juices exploded into the air, Belle's eyes filled with tears. "I hated you. And then I didn't." She grabbed the hem of her apron to swipe at the moisture on her face. "And then you were someone to talk to, someone I could call a friend." She alternated between slashing at the onion and wiping her eyes. "But for the last few days, you were... We were..." She looked down at the mess of onion rings and strings and pooling juice on her board. She wearily laid her knife down. "I don't know what was going on over the last few days, but I liked it. I liked the way I felt when I was with you." She lifted the bottle, "If I drink this, that will all be gone."
"It will be forgotten," he corrected her gently, "Not gone."
"No." The bottle plonked onto the table. Belle moved away to put water into the kettle to boil for tea. "Not until you tell me why you brought me here."
"I told you; I needed a housekeeper," he said lightly.
"That may be true, but we both know I was no housekeeper when I arrived. The truth: why me?"
"To give you another option besides broodmare to Gaston."
"No!" she shouted. "No more lies. No. More. Lies!" She gazed into the stove's fire dejectedly. "If I'm going to forget this ever happened, at least I deserve to know the truth."
Rumplestiltskin answered quietly, "I have had one desire my whole life: to protect my family. To keep them safe. I failed with my parents. I failed with my wife. I failed with my son. I watched my son leave me, and I was too afraid to follow. So I found another way to get to him. And then you appeared in my visions. Like the Fates were saying 'Look! Here's a woman who is smart and loving and kind and beautiful. Everything you could ever want in a woman. We'll even make it so that she is not turned off by your murderous dark side. And all you have to do is give up your quest for your son.' The ultimate deal." He smiled cruelly. "A deal I am not going to make. So drink up, my beautiful Belle. Because whatever your feelings were over the last few days, whatever you think my feelings were, there is nothing more important to me than getting to my son. There is your truth," he spat the word, "Belle; I brought you here as a reminder of what is important to me."
The kettle's whistle interrupted the silence his statement brought. Mechanically, Belle went through the routines of getting the tea ready. But instead of pouring herself a cup, she picked up the potion bottle. "Do you love me?" she asked. When it became apparent that no answer would be forthcoming, she put the bottle to her lips and drank its contents in a single gulp.
The sleeping draft was powerful; she was asleep before she managed to put the vial back onto the table. The glass bottle smashed into the floor, shattering into thousands of pieces. Rumplestiltskin used magic to catch her falling body before it slammed into the floor. A little bit more magic took care of cleaning up the kitchen. He cradled her form in his arms, gently kissed her forehead, and answered her final question.
"Yes."