Belle woke up and stretched, her side and her neck feeling as if they were prickled by tiny needles as the blood rushed there. She wasn't comfortable from sleeping straight up but she caught enough rest to make it through another day. There'd been worse places to sleep, like a dungeon cell.

Even though she slept, her mind seemed to be restless and shaped a plan during the night. Belle knew what she had to do. She would return to the castle now that Rumpelstiltskin had probably calmed down and talk to him. She would tell him he had no right to treat her like this. That she had dignity and self-respect and that he had to learn to trust people. Yes, that's what she was going to do, and he would listen. After she'd say everything she considered necessary, she'd probably set back on her route. Belle decided to take one small step at a time. She had no illusions about their happy reunion, where he would sweep her in his arms and swear to never let her go, admit that he was wrong and beg for forgiveness. There would be none of that. But she did want to make her point. She'd write him a letter but she doubted it'd be delivered; the villagers would probably burn the parchment thinking it was cursed because Belle touched it. And even if the letter was sent, he may still not read it. She had to be brave and face him eye-to-eye.

Once she made her mind up, the rest was easy. Belle started walking back, wincing a little as her feet were still tender; she probably had several bad blisters but she didn't want to look. With the rising sun protecting her back against the morning chill, she walked on the muddy road to the Dark Castle with determination.

Belle felt anxious by the time she reached the gates. It was dark and the castle towered over her, the top of it disappearing in the shadows of inky sky. What if the castle would not permit her to enter? What if by banning her Rumpelstiltskin cut off every possible way for her to return? There was no use speculating, she had to find out. Belle held her breath and pushed the gates. They opened soundlessly and she stepped in, relieved.

The castle doors yielded easily as well. At this time of the day the only place Rumpelstiltskin could possibly be at was at his wheel. She smiled fondly at the image of him spinning, his clever fingers bending and twisting the straw which turned into the finest thread of pure gold under his touch. It was a cozy picture and even the girl knew she did not intend to stay here long after they had their conversation, being inside the castle felt like coming home.

Belle unclasped her cloak and left it at the table in the middle of the hall. She scowled, seeing the dirty trail of footprints she left but decided she could take care of those later, or maybe Rumpelstiltskin would magically erase them.

He was indeed at his wheel but he wasn't spinning. He sat motionless, his face hidden in his palms and his elbows resting upon his knobby knees. Belle even felt guilty for a second as if she was disturbing something not meant to be seen; he looked incredibly sad and lonely, his small figure brittle in the light of the fireplace. Rumpelstiltskin did not raise his head at the sound of her steps. Belle wrinkled her nose, it was strange he could not smell her from across the room. The odour of horse dung and sweat clung to her strongly and she wondered if he minded her taking a bath before she'd leave again.

She walked slowly to avoid stepping on shreds of china which littered the floor and stopped at his side, standing close enough to make out the fine embroidery on his sleeves and the shape of small scales covering her fingers. Belle reached out carefully not to startle him and placed her palm on top of his head. Her fingers found their way into his hair, combing through the tangled strands. When he did not lift his head up, she gently tugged on his hair to draw his attention.

"Rumpelstiltskin," she called, meaning to speak out all what was on her heart, but his name was all Belle said.

The harsh words she recited on her way here seemed meaningless now. There would be time for it. She stroked the side of his face, his protruding cheekbones until he finally opened his eyes to look at her. The pupils of his eyes were dilated, and he had a dreamy and misty look about him. Wordlessly, he turned her palm over, pressing kisses inside of her hand. Belle felt slightly confused, she did not know what to do with this new sad and quiet Rumpelstiltskin. Why was he acting so strange?

He closed his eyes again, leaning into her touch. Then, through the cloud of all the scents around her, Belle could trace something else – bitter and sharp. Alcohol. He was drunk. She didn't know whether she ought to cry or laugh with the relief. He was drunk and there she was standing, being all serious with her mind set on a grave conversation not so long ago.

"Rumpelstiltskin, I am back," she pulled on his hair again, a little harder this time and his eyes seemed to focus on her better. "We need to talk."

"Belle…" he whispered, oblivious to everything else she said. Then he flung his arms around her middle, burying his face in her dress.

"Belle. Yer back," his voice was muffled by her clothes. "Back," he repeated dreamily. Apparently, the alcohol reduced his usually eloquent speech to just one-word sentences and even those came out slurred. At least he recognized her, that was a start.

He lifted his head, his chin still resting against the bodice of her gown.

"Mine?" he enquired, his eyebrows raised, staring into her face intently. Or as close to that as he could focus them.

Belle rolled her eyes. How was she supposed to answer that?

"No, I am not a thing to be owned, Rumpelstiltskin. I belong to myself only," she replied sternly.

Such subtleties as not being an object of ownership escaped his fumed mind.

"Belle," he repeated with care slowly and as if making some important point. "Mine?"

His eyes were so full of childish hope and pleading that she gave up. There was no harm in comforting him in that state, besides, he could hardly grasp anything else she was saying. Strangely enough she did not feel insulted by his possessiveness.

"Yours," she agreed, her fingers retuning to petting his hair and scratching over his scalp gently. His eyes were damp and so grateful, she knew admitting she was his was the most correct thing she'd ever done. Rumpelstiltskin whimpered and pressed his face around her middle. She could make out Belle and mine whispered between the kisses he planted all over her dress and she couldn't help feeling warm and fuzzy all over.

He didn't grow tired of repeating her name over and over and Belle hoped that it wouldn't last the next day. She tried to pry his hands off her waist but he only tightened his grip around her and pulled the girl closer, almost throwing her off balance. She was content to stay like this for a while but her feet were tired and she had to get him to bed, where he would sleep this weird intoxication off and become himself again.

"You need to get some sleep," she prompted, still stroking his hair. The answer that came someplace from around her navel was totally incoherent. Belle smiled and decided that maybe his way of speaking would work.

"You. Bed. Now."

Breaking it up in simple terms did seem to make him understand her. He transported them onto a large bed in a swirl of his magic, still clinging to her like a dying man. Belle scowled – they both had their footwear on and she was leaving smears of dirt on the expensive fabric of the sheets. She tried to wriggle away from his grasp but it was of no use. Rumpelstiltskin looked up, searching for her eyes.

"Mine?" he asked again, so serious that Belle couldn't hold back and smile when she nodded.

"Yours," she admitted and he nuzzled at her neck happily. Belle wondered idly if he could even purr if she scratched behind his ears. Rumpelstiltskin settled his head against her shoulder, the top of his hair tickling under the girl's chin.

"Stay," he half-asked and half-pleaded.

"I am not going anywhere," Belle promised. It was true, not just because he was holding onto her even long after he fell asleep, but because she had no heart to leave. He needed her, he wanted her and it wasn't a big revelation when she found out that she wanted it too. For better or for worse.