Twenty-Five
A/N. I've given a lot of thought to Dracomom's suggestion to continue the story to tie up loose ends, and I decided there is one loose end I'd like to tie up. It means a departure of perhaps four or five chapters from the motif of spinning, however, so I'd thought to make it a separate story, but as it started to develop I saw that spinning will come back into play after this departure. So if I can ask your patience in accepting a temporary break in the motif, I'll tie up that loose end. This is dedicated to you, Dracomom!
Normally I try to stick pretty close to the canon (so, for example, when Kitsis and Horowitz said Gold didn't remember his FTL past until the moment he met Emma, I stuck with that, although the indicators seem to point in other direction). But I have to admit, I was less than satisfied with the Rumbelle reunion scenes in "Land Without Magic." So I'm going back out on a limb with some embellishments—something I'm pretending to be a "deleted scene," but I just can't imagine that on the drive to the well, Rumple and Belle didn't have a few things to say to each other . And then, yeah, I'm violating canon flat-out, because I just didn't feel a hug was enough of a response from Rumple when Belle opened her heart to him and said she loved him, so I'm bumping up The Kiss. Fair warning: if you're a canon devotee, you may want to skip this chapter.
"Do I know you?"
"No, but you will."
Rumplestiltskin draws in a deep breath. He'd love nothing more than to fall apart, but all hell is going to bust loose any second, now that Regina's lost both her bid for revenge and her custody of Henry, and here's Belle, standing before him, needing him. Needing him, and gods, he needs to be needed right now.
She's in a fragile state and he's in a hurry—a bad combination, and in another circumstance he would choose to give all his time to her. He has no doubt, though, that hesitation could mean Belle's death as well as Snow's, Charming's, Jiminy's—maybe even Henry's. And the first person on Regina's hit list will be Rumplestiltskin.
He mustn't frighten Belle off, though, with his wild tales of magic and revenge; clearly, more damage has been done to her than just the memory loss caused by the curse. He proceeds slowly, to gain her confidence. "Do you know where you are?"
"The sign said this is a shop of some kind."
"Yes. Do you know the name of this village?"
"'Storybrooke, Maine, town of a thousand stories.'"
He smiles. Wherever she's been, she's been watching the local TV station; she's just quoted their slogan. That's a start. Now the hard question. "What is your name?"
She scowls and rubs her forehead as if a sudden headache has struck. "They call me Jane Doe, but that's not right."
He takes her hand to comfort her. She neither accepts or rejects the gesture. "When I knew you, long ago, your name was Belle."
Her face clears. "Belle." She tries it on for size. "Belle. Yes. And there was a man—"
He catches his breath. Did she remember him?
"A big man, important? He loved me but he was afraid. There was a war. People were dying. He needed help to help them."
"Yes. Your father. His name was Maurice."
"Someone came to help us, a man with sparkly skin and—" she looks at him directly, giving him hope. "And eyes like yours, except gold."
"That was me, Belle," he says eagerly. "Do you remember my name?"
"Jefferson said you were Mr. Gold, but—" She concentrates for long minutes—minutes he really shouldn't spare—and when tears of frustration appear in her eyes, he squeezes her hand.
"It's okay, Belle. Very soon you'll remember everything. Very soon you'll feel like yourself again. Belle, I must ask for your patience for a short while longer. I promise you, what I need to do now is urgent, or I wouldn't make you wait. It must be done now, for all of us to be safe, for me to protect you. Will you trust me, Belle, please? I know this must be frightening—"
"No," she interrupts, cocking her head and looking at him closely. "I was afraid before, in the room, but I—I know you."
"Come with me, then, please, and I promise I'll explain everything soon."
He leads her out the back way to the Caddy. Before they leave the safety of the shop, he scans the street: a few pedestrians are about their business, but Regina is nowhere is sight. He can feel the curse crackling in the atmosphere, like static electricity before a storm. Any minute now, the savior will kiss her son, bringing him out of his eternal sleep, and then all hell will break loose.
He glances at the sky. Thank You. Even if it's just for a moment—for he dreads that when she knows the truth of who he is and what he's done, she'll run. He opens the car door. "Belle, I need to take you to a place nearby."
She's smiling as she slides into the passenger seat; she runs her hands across the rich red leather. "Is this a car? I've seen them on TV, but never for real. It's beautiful."
He reaches over her to fasten her seat belt. "Yes, this is a Cadillac." Which I'll trade in for a Lamborghini one of these days. What he really wants to ask is Where have you been that you have never seen a car? She must not be pushed, however; clearly, she's traumatized already. He's confident she will recover, however; her joie de vivre hasn't been crushed, only suppressed.
He starts the car and pulls out, this time obeying the speed limit; he must not attract attention. "Belle, we're going to a special place in the forest a few miles out of town. There is something I must do there; it will give me what I need to keep us all safe. I promise I'll explain it completely once we're safe."
She rests her head against the window and watches the scenery pass by. He wonders if she's suffered physical trauma as well as the emotional trauma that's apparent. As soon as possible, he'll take her to Dr. Whale for a complete physical, and then to Dr. Hopper. Whatever she needs, however long it takes, he'll remain at her side. . . as long as she'll have him. They'll take it one day at a time.
Except. . . he recalls his own experience when the curse broke for him. He dreads the moment for her when she's flooded with voices and images from her previous life, when his mind split into two. He'd had the advantage of understanding what was happening to him and why; she would not have that knowledge. Nor would Snow, Charming, Red or any of the others.
They need him.
He's never before felt the need to be in two places at once, but right now he'd give his eyeteeth if he could clone himself, send his double back to prepare the town for the cursebreaking. For the moment, all he can do is drive and try to assess Belle's immediate needs. "Belle, are you cold?"
"No."
"Hungry? Thirsty?"
"Pizza—I've always wanted to taste pizza."
He chuckles. "We'll get you a pizza very soon. And a change of clothes—"
"The Gap. I'd love to shop at the Gap."
"Okay. . . .Do you feel well? Are you injured anywhere?"
"I'm fine."
"Belle. . . where do you live?"
She tears her gaze away from the road and stares at the dials on the dashboard. After a long moment she answers, "In a room."
"Where is the room?" A boarding house? A hotel? But not in Storybrooke; he would have seen her. Has she somehow come from Fairytale Land—has the barrier been breached already?
"I don't know. There were stairs. . . the room was at the bottom of the stairs. There was a man with long black hair and a broom. There was a woman, Nurse Stern. She brought me food, took me to the restroom. And some days she took me to the TV room; those were good days. And there was a doctor, Dr. Whale. He came sometimes to give me pills."
Rumplestiltskin grips the steering wheel and his teeth. Whale has just joined Regina on Rumple's hit list. "It's all right, Belle. Soon you'll remember everything."
She falls silent for a moment, then exclaims, "You're not Mr. Gold."
He glances at her, smiling hopefully. "Do you know my name?"
"No." Then she smiles. "But I will."
"Yes," he squeezes her shoulder briefly. "You've always been a fighter, Belle. You're going to be fine."
They arrive at his cabin. He longs to take her inside, run a hot bath for her, cook her breakfast, light a fire in the fireplace and wrap her in a quilt and sit her down in the rocking chair, give her everything she needs, all the time she needs. He adds another black mark against Regina's name for robbing Belle of the recovery she should have.
He leads her from the cabin through the woods and though she's perplexed she follows without argument. He glances to the sky and wonders what's holding up that damn cursebreaking kiss. It's rocky terrain, so he takes her hand, and because of his limp they can't move as quickly as they should. "We're going to a special place, Belle, a water well that's older than any other structure in this part of the state. The waters below the well issue from a lake called Nostros. The waters are said to have the power to return that which one has lost. A war is about to start. It's with this power that I can prevent that."
She hesitates, panic edging her face. "Ogres?"
She's starting to remember, even though Emma hasn't lived up to her end of the savior bargain yet. "No, no ogres here, but there is an evil woman—"
"Regina." Belle's expression blackens.
"Yes! You know Regina?"
Belle's lip curls. "She talks to me sometimes, and Nurse Stern and Dr. Whale talk about her when they think I can't hear. She's a vicious, conniving, hateful, sad person who wants to kill our hope."
"Yes, but I can stop her."
Belle picks up the pace. "Let's move it, then. Where is this well?"
"Belle, did I ever tell you how proud I am to know you?" He struggles to keep up with her.
Suddenly the earth beneath their feet shakes, the trees they cling to for security shake, the sky itself shakes and currents of air, like crashing sea waves, gather and roll and break. The savior has fulfilled her destiny—Henry has come back; the Curse to End All Curses has been broken.
Belle comes under the shelter of his arm, steadying him as well as herself. "Has the war begun?"
"No, Belle," he raises his face to the sky and grins. "Freedom has."
The currents wash over them and he surrenders to them like dry earth surrenders to warm rain. There are no additional memories to come to him, but he finds himself standing taller and he realizes his knee has straightened itself. He is both younger and older than he was a moment ago: he is Rumplestiltskin, a centuries-old creature from a distant place, and he is strong again.
He watches Belle as her face changes from confusion to serenity to joy, and he's reassured she will be all right. She too seems to grow taller and stronger. The earth stops shaking and the air quiets. . . and she withdraws from him.
"All you all right, Belle?"
She nods.
"Do you hear voices, see flashes in your head?"
"Yes. Don't leave me!"
"I won't leave. Don't be afraid; it's your memories coming back."
She shakes her head to clear it. "It's gone now."
He holds his breath. She remembers—which means she remembers everything, including the monster he was.
She confirms it. "Rumplestiltskin! I remember."
He freezes. One foot stands on hope, the other on fear. But she gives him firm ground to stand on with her laugh. "I love you!"
Now he is truly free. He reaches for her and she comes without hesitation. They cling to each other as though nothing else exists, and he buries his face in her hair, swallowing his tears. This is so much more than he ever, ever could have dreamt. No magic could have brought this; it must have come from the Source, the One True Morning Star, and Rumple can never in a thousand lifetimes pay it back.
But then, he realizes, he doesn't have to. The True Morning Star doesn't deal; He gives.
Rumple kisses the top of her head. "I love you too, Belle. Always and forever."
She presses closer and raises her face; he lowers his. There is no Dark curse for their kiss to break, but when he presses his lips to hers, he breaks nonetheless and heals stronger than before. For such a wise old being, he surprises himself with how little he knows: her kiss teaches him the wholeness of love. In her kiss he finds forgiveness, admiration and passion, and a promise she will always offer him those gifts. Joyously, he gives his own promise back to her. She is his link to everything: the past and the future, magic and power, the earth and the life beyond it.
"Always and forever," she agrees.
He releases her but takes her hand again. "Soon we'll have time for ourselves, but—I'm sorry, Belle—this has to be the time to fight."
She raises her chin and the warrior in her rises. "Regina's at gates. Let's go."
They reach the well and with just a moment of hesitation for a brief thought flung to the skies—Let this work; please let this work; and give me the fortitude for one more war—he drops the vial into the well, releasing True Love's magic into the world. A billowing purple cloud pours out of the well, spills onto the ground, swirls around their feet and spreads and rises, blocking the earth and the sky from view.
He feels the change instantly. It's faint at first, beginning in his toes and fingertips, but soon his entire body heats and tingles. He feels the magic seeping into his pores, seeking his blood, finding the course to his heart and his brain. He remembers the moment—for it happened so rapidly, it was just a fraction of a moment—the Dark curse came upon him, how feverish it felt, how chaotic, how inescapable; this is different. This magic is calming, reassuring. He breathes it in.
"We're in a land without magic, and I'm bringing it," he explains, taking Belle's hand. "This is how we fight Regina."
Doubt creeps into her voice. "You've brought another curse?"
"No, not at all. The Dark One is gone forever, Belle. This is True Love's magic. This magic can't be used for evil."
"But it is magic," she frowns.
"It's necessary. This magic is protection." He gives her a moment to take it all in. "I know I haven't earned your trust, but I have to ask for it. Believe in me. I won't let you down this time."
She watches the purple cloud thin out as winds blow it to the east. "If this is magic, does Regina have it now too?"
"Very little, but once she figures out how to use it, she'll find a way to acquire more." He's calling upon his hypotheses now; there's no way he can know for sure. "Only those who are capable of true love will receive the magic I've just released."
She smiles slyly. "And you have this magic now?"
In answer, he waves his hands in an x shape. The loose white gown and oversized coat that she's wearing are replaced by a robin's egg blue tunic, jeans and hiking boots. It may not be an outfit The Gap would carry, but it will be comfortable on their walk back to the cabin. The work of altering her clothes requires little energy, but he does feel a drain of power; he realizes it will take some time for his reserves to be fully replenished. He won't be able to indulge in teleportation—or magic-fights—any time soon, but then, neither will Regina. Nor will Regina have the benefit he's had of nearly a year's practice.
But what she will have on her side that he now lacks is ruthlessness. She won't care who gets killed.
"You have the magic too," he informs Belle. "All who are capable of giving and receiving love can access this magic."
"No," she blurts. "I don't want it."
"It's not evil, Belle. But it's entirely your choice. This magic is a gift, not a curse." He looks to the east, where the purple cloud has dissipated. "We must go back now. But before we enter Regina's territory, will you let me teach you one small defensive maneuver? In case something happens to me, you need to be able to protect yourself."
"I don't want it. Magic will change me."
"This magic is the product of pure love. It can't be used to hurt anyone. Please, a defensive spell."
When she grants his request with a sharp nod, he bends, locates a pebble of greywacke and presses it into her hand. "Keep this in your pocket. When you need to, hold it tightly in your left hand, close your eyes, imagine this pebble growing into a stone, into a boulder, into a wall, and concentrate on these words: lapidem in murum. Say it, please."
"Lapidem in murum." Her mouth drops open. "I feel something. Inside me, it's shaking."
"Don't be afraid. That's the magic awkening. Imagine the pebble, imagine the stone, imagine the boulder, imagine the wall, and say it again: lapidem in murum."
She closes her eyes, squeezing the pebble. For several minutes nothing happens; he starts to worry she won't be able to protect herself after all; but at last a six-foot wall of greywacke appears all around her and he laughs. "Very good. Now imagine in reverse: wall to boulder to stone to pebble. And say murus in lapidem."
"Murum—"
"No, murus."
"Murus in lapidem." The wall shrinks and disappears.
"Once more." He makes her practice it a second time. There would be a third rehearsal if they only had time, but they must return to Storybrooke before Regina starts casting spells. They walk more quickly now, he without his limp, she in sturdy shoes. When they reach the car and he opens the passenger door, he says, "I love you, Belle."
"I love you too, Rumplestiltskin." She's grinning, her eyes dancing; in just these few minutes, she's changed. He wonders how much of it can be attributed to the curse breaking and how much can be attributed to the reclamation of their love. She may leave him yet, he realizes. She knows so little of Rumplestiltskin's and Gold's histories. When he discloses himself—himselves—to her in full—and he will, because she can't love half a man—she may run in horror. Even if she can't stay with him, she will love him; he can feel that now.
In fact, now he can feel everything.