Chapter Twenty-Nine

For a man with a lame leg, Gold was exceptionally capable of being stealthy when he truly wished to be. Much like his time in the Enchanted Forest, he always found a slick enjoyment out of sneaking up behind people when they weren't aware. It was one of his favorite tricks.

Some things never changed between worlds.

Turning the library's knob extra slowly in his hand so as to avoid making even the slightest creak, he edged it open. This library had been closed during the entire twenty-eight years due to Maleficent's hideaway. It was boarded up, cobwebs hung in the corners of the ceiling, and it stank of must.

He had no doubt Belle would have cast away all those inconveniences as long as she was able to peruse the shelves of books. It almost made him regret leaving her behind and missing the inevitable glow on her face. Almost.

The hum of the elevator filled the room, disguising any odd footfall the soles of his shoes happened to make on the tiled floor. Carrying his cane, he ambled forward—better not to allow it to tap the floor. His leg would be aching tomorrow, but great power comes with great sacrifice, right?

Regina had her back turned to him as she lingered by the elevator's control panel. The impatient drumming of her nails on her hip was a sign that she hadn't yet noticed his presence. Of course not; their dear Madame Mayor was much too self-absorbed for that. It was still a good thing, a benefit to him. No doubt Emma was venturing deep below his feet, prepared to face her ultimate challenge. Unaware that Regina would soon be preoccupied with her own problems.

He stopped within a foot of her; if he dared take another step, his body would surely brush hers, as disgusting as it was for him to imagine. Gradually, he raised his cane above his head. Oh, he was going to enjoy this. Consider it part one of his revenge in Belle's name.

At the very last second, Regina's nails stopped drumming and her head shifted to the side. She knew. His lips curled maliciously as he brought the cane down on the back of her head, a blow that rendered her immediately unconscious. Her legs buckled and her body drifted lifelessly to the yellowed floor. Had he not grabbed her, she would have fallen into the elevator shaft.

Setting her limp form on a nearby chair, he dug out the duct tape and began to apply it to her mouth, hands, and feet. It'd be a blessing not to listen to her foul-mouthed complaints when she came around from her stupor. Whatever curse she threatened his name with, it could stay inside her little, hopeless head.

And now, as he stepped back to admire his handiwork, all that was left to do was wait for Emma to rejoin the game.

…...

It was proving impossible to be bored inside Rumpelstiltskin's shop. It reminded her of the early days spent inside his Dark Castle—there was always some mysterious object that attracted her attention. Especially during the times she had grown accustomed to dusting, those objects had been quite the extent of her admiration, providing moments where she could find something wondrous in such a dark place.

And there were so many objects! The shelves were crammed with them, the walls decorated with overhanging treasures. Belle spun in place in the middle of the shop for a full minute, drinking in every detail until it made her dizzy.

There were paintings-marvelous, rich paintings one could only hope to display inside the comfort of their home. Even the frames were a sight to behold; gorgeous carved wood, one with a pattern of elaborate roses. There were beautiful dresses that she could not resist trying on, at least until she settled with a lovely cerulean knee-length one. Blue had always been her favorite color, so peaceful and pure. She only hoped Rumpelstiltskin would not mind her new apparel.

There was even an assortment of objects she did not recognize, instigating a crucial reminder that this world was unfamiliar to her. A blocky, heavy thing was stored away on the shelf in the backroom. It had a range of buttons and dials and a black cord—similar to a ropey snake—spiraling behind it. When Belle nudged one of the dials, the object flickered with color and life. Her false memories offered up the word television. Television. It rolled off her tongue, a foreign word that held little meaning.

She'd never seen pictures that moved before. Maybe this world did have its own sense of magic. Were there such things as books that moved this way, too?

Most of all, she was drawn to the glass unicorn mobile suspended above one of the display cases. It was so enchanting, so delicate; it could only belong to their world. Caught in a mesmerized trance, Belle extended a finger to touch one of the lightly swaying unicorns.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Belle's hand shot back, her body leaping away from the counter in surprise. Lingering in the doorway, he chuckled at her jumpy reaction. She hadn't even heard him come back—even as the Dark One, he'd always been so silent on his feet.

"Who did it belong to?" Belle watched as the dim light of the shop caught the glass mobile and cast a spectrum of rainbows over the display case. This time, she heard his soft steps as he approached her and gently smoothed a hand along her back. He was trying to avoid startling her again.

"The fairest of them all, dearie. Snow White," the name rolled over his tongue with a degree of noticeable fondness. It was a good thing Belle was not the jealous type. "It was meant for her precious daughter. Quite the stunning object," he said as his fingers reached out to still one of the unicorns. "As stunning as that dress, if I do say so myself."

Belle blushed at his appraisal and instinctively smoothed her palms along the length of the dress. For a brief moment, she wasn't sure whether he would notice the dress at all. Of course he would. Rumpelstiltskin was the most observant man she knew.

"I hope you don't mind—"He pressed a finger to her lips to quiet her. That hand then caressed her wounded cheek tenderly and threaded through her hair.

"Belle, whatever you wish to wear—or not to wear—is fine by me. I'd rather no one else in that dress," he said, taking the time to admire it on her body. She allowed his eyes to roam and never even considered what her father might think of such bold behavior. He'd been on her mind less and less since she'd first kissed Rumpelstiltskin. She supposed that's what true love did to a person—clouded their mind with their one beloved until there was nothing else to think about.

Rumpelstiltskin brought his palms together, snapping her from her dreamy thoughts.

"Now...twirl for me," he requested. She raised an eyebrow in speculation.

"Twirl?" The blush on her cheeks grew stronger. She'd never twirled for anyone before, not even when she'd donned that lovely golden dress. Sophisticated young women did not twirl like children before an audience. It was foolish, it was inappropriate. It was vain.

"I believe that is what I said. Twirl," he repeated, even going as far as making a circular motion with his finger. Oh, what was the harm? It sounded...fun. And this was a different world now with a different set of rules on etiquette. Sucking in a breath, Belle let go and twirled in place, the hem of her dress lifting into the air as she spun.

On her last rotation, Belle had become so enthusiastically caught up in the whirlwind of twirling that her foot came down the wrong way and she dizzily stumbled into his arms. Her arm circled his neck for support and he held her close, gazing into the depths of her eyes intently. The warmth of his body spread around her like the coziest of blankets. She couldn't help the lazy smile as his slender fingers brushed the hair from her eyes.

"Beautiful." Her chest swelled with emotion as the silky word rounded about her mind. Never once had her fiancé called her by such a delicate, considerate term. To hear the compliment from the lips of a man who believed he was a monster was….sweet.

Belle could have stayed in that moment for the rest of her life, it seemed. Embraced by her true love, her heart pounding in her chest, her eyes absorbing nothing but him. With all good things, there was always an end. Something gold glistened from the display case and she turned her head to catch sight of an odd golden egg that Rumpelstiltskin must have set aside.

"What is that?" Rumpelstiltskin shifted his head, following her line of focus to the egg. For some reason, his face grew grim instead of elated.

"That," he said as he crossed the room to it and opened it. Inside was a velvet pocket encasing a vial of intense purple liquid. It shimmered and glowed against the glass. "True love. Now, there is one more task I need to complete, Belle—"

"And you are not doing it alone," she intercepted while he pocketed the vial.

Brow furrowing, he opened his mouth to protest the claim, but she never allowed him the chance. She hated having him leave her behind to deal with the struggles of this world. Que sera, sera. What will be, will be. She only wanted to be standing beside him when it happened. Together.

"Rumpelstiltskin, I trust you. Whatever it is you need to do, you'll have to do it with me by your side. Like it or not, I'm coming with you. I don't…" Her throat grew tight, but she forced the suffocating lump down. "I don't want us to be separated again."

Instantly, his face softened as he recognized the fear flashing in her eyes. Belle was not afraid of many things, but her biggest fear involved losing him a second time. She'd already been through that once and she had no intention of facing it again.

"Belle," he whispered, carefully pulling her back into his arms. She settled her head on his shoulder and he caressed the small of her back. "Did I not give you my word? I will not let anything happen to you. To us. You can come with me; of course you can, my love."

Belle smiled into his shoulder as he guided her to the door. And together they set out into the town and beyond it to the blanket of forest.

Deep in the heart of the woods, there was a well. It looked like any other, complete with a small wooden bucket meant for lifting pails of water, but Belle's nerves prickled as Rumpelstiltskin led her toward it. She couldn't quite place it, but her instincts warned her there was something different about this particular well. Something almost enchanting lilting in the air.

"Why are we here?"

A drink of water? Belle didn't suspect that water was positively safe to consume, what with the way the well was left exposed to environmental forces. Rain, leaves, snow…in time, that water would surely be far from fresh. Nevertheless, Rumpelstiltskin paused at the edge of it, peering down into the deep darkness.

"This well is special, Belle. It is believed to return that which one has lost," he explained cryptically as he revealed the small vial of true love. He extended his hand, silently asking her to come to him. Joining his side, Belle watched in amazement as he carelessly dropped it into the depths of the well. She listened, but it never seemed to reach the bottom. Not even a splash.

Everything was still for a few seconds that passed like years. Belle wondered what he had expected to happen. Then, she noticed it. Bubbling, thick and cloudy, was a slew of purple fog. It spilled over the rim of the well, pooling and snaking around her feet. As it rose and slithered clammily over her bare skin, she gripped Rumpelstiltskin's arm for support.

"What have you done?" His response was a victorious smirk. As his dark, endless eyes gleamed at the sight of the vapor, a smile of pure impish glee crossed his lips. He was enjoying this. This was what he'd wanted. The curls of smoke swept into the air above their heads, threatening to submerge them at any given time.

"We're in a land without magic, Belle. And I'm bringing it. Magic is coming," he whispered. There was a deeper sense of purpose embedded in his voice, the seams of a plan not yet unraveled. Belle had almost failed to hear it pass his lips; his tone was so low and drowned out by the gust of wind.

Magic.

It sent a terrible chill into her bones just imagining the repercussions of such an entity in this world. Magic in a land that was never meant to experience it or prepared for it.

"Why?" His head shifted in her direction and she could not mistake the sheer cunning that existed there. It was akin to peering into the gaze of a vulture, ready to plunge and purge its prey in one fatal fell swoop. A coup de grace, if ever there was one.

"Why? Because magic is power." Belle clutched tightly to Rumpelstiltskin's arm as the mysterious fog descended. The last thing she heard was his victorious laugh before the purple cloud cloaked them entirely.

….

The purple fog dissipated, seeping out as smoothly as it had seeped in. Belle blinked until her eyes adjusted to the sunlight streaming through the leaves hanging on the trees. Was it her imagination or did those leaves appear enhanced in color? Where a moment ago they were a shade of faint yellow-green, the leaves were now an undeniably rich emerald. Magic.

As she held fast to Rumpelstiltskin's arm, she realized that little else had changed. They were still in Storybrooke. Here she imagined the breaking of the curse and the existence of magic would allow them to return to their world once more. Why were they here? Unless…not even magic could take them home, anymore.

Unless there was nothing to return to in the first place. Her father's kingdom, Rumpelstiltskin's eloquent Dark Castle, the place where she fell in love with him…had they all but ceased to exist?

She was ready to bombard him with questions, if only to ease her mind, before she noticed the changes that had settled over him. Much like the trees, his form was enhanced. His body was not supported by his cane and yet….

For the first time since they'd crossed paths in this world, he was standing tall. His legs were firm and absent of the limp that had plagued him as Mr. Gold. Brown eyes studied his palms in wonder—he must have already been sensing the weight of magic channeling through his veins.

As she watched, his hand glided out, his brow furrowed with concentration. It took a moment, but miraculously a twig resting at his feet began to rattle and roll across the earth. Uninfluenced by human touch, it should have been impossible. It grew still after a second, but it was enough to make her eyes widen with apprehension.

It had worked. Rumpelstiltskin had once more proven he could achieve the impossible. Magic had been brought to Storybrooke.

And judging by the growing smirk on his face and the excitement radiating off him in waves, he was quite proud of himself.

"You're doing it again," she whispered, snapping him out of his blissful trance. "You're choosing magic again. Your power." Belle stared hard at him until her eyelids burned with the desire to close, waiting for him to object her claim. Decidedly avoiding her gaze, he stayed silent. If only he understood that his silence spoke volumes.

Water brimming under her eyelids, Belle whirled and started back the way they came, the twigs snapping under her feet.

"Belle," he called after her. The pattern of his footsteps was steadier now that he no longer had to drag one leg around. Magic had given him that advantage and why ever would he want to refuse such a power? "Belle, wait."

With his improved speed, he managed to catch her by the elbow. Shaking her head frantically, she tried jerking away from his touch, but his arm circled her waist and swung her around into the cell of his arms. No matter what she did, she could not escape his grasp. He wanted her to listen.

"Belle, don't you see? Magic is power. I can heal those scars of yours to perfection. I can give you anything your heart desires with the snap of my fingers. I can protect you," he said, lowering his forehead to rest against hers.

Belle rammed her palms against his chest and impatiently blew a wisp of loose hair that was tickling her nose. He meant everything he said, but he did not understand.

"For starters, I don't need you to heal my scars. What Regina did to me was cruel and tragic, but there's no denying that it happened. Every story has a villain and moments of despair, otherwise it wouldn't be a very good story. It's part of my story and the fact that I survived it has only made me stronger," she argued, much to his obvious disdain. She wiggled and squirmed out of his embrace and he leveled a stony look at her.

"Second, I don't need you to give me anything…except your love. All I want is you, Rumpelstiltskin," she insisted, smoothing her hands along his forearms.

Something in his expression told her he did not believe that quite so enthusiastically. According to him—the notorious dealmaker—everyone wanted something. What he seemed to forget was that she'd already sacrificed everything for him; family, friends, freedom to experience the world as she once dreamed.

"Belle—" She held up a hand to halt his words. This time, he would be the one to listen.

"As for your protection, you don't need magic to do that. And I don't want your protection if it means you'll be paying the price. All magic comes with a price, right?" The grave glimmer in his brown eyes suggested he did not appreciate having his cunning words tossed back at him. It was a form of mockery, at best.

Belle allowed her words to sink into his mind, studied him as he shifted his head uncertainly away from her. He reminded her of the way he had cast her off in his castle, the time she'd asked the reason why he chose to spin so much. He was doing it now; casting her off as easily as rainwater. Disregarding everything she'd said.

"What's done is done," he muttered. It drove the breath from her lungs to realize that this was where he stood on the basis of magic. They might as well have been oceans apart, for they certainly did not see eye to eye. He was choosing magic…over her.

"Perhaps your power is your true love, Rumpelstiltskin. Not me," she accused rather coldly. There was no confusion or arching of the eyebrow to question her meaning, He knew exactly what she meant. The fact that he so readily perceived her meaning made her heart ache even harder. "Tell me, Rumpelstiltskin. Tell me that you do not value your power more than me. More than true love. "

Belle could hear the soft whispering of the wind through the trees as they stood there in the forest. His lips flattened into an unpleasant line—they did not part to form words in explanation or agreement. The cane was lodged so tight in his hands that it slightly quivered. Silence was all she received from him.

At last, she had her answer.

Gritting her teeth to staunch the upset gasp in her throat, Belle spun and aimed for the thatch of thick trees that would lead her away from this clearing, away from him. Her head was too cloudy with incoherent thought; inside, it was as though a freshly carved spear had pierced her chest and cracked it wide open for her insides to swell out. Was this how a true broken heart felt?

"Belle, please. Let me explain—" The warm tears stung the skin under her eyelids and she furiously wiped them away with the back of her hand. She refused to cry and show weakness in front of him now. Be brave, she encouraged herself.

"I've heard enough. I need time to think. Alone," she shot over her shoulder. She didn't exactly know where she would go. Perhaps she could go anywhere in town now that Regina was aware of her existence in Rumpelstiltskin's care. Perhaps she would search for her father, though it would be strenuous explaining her current distraught.

Either way, there was no point in remaining in the presence of his magic when it had proven to be so dangerous time and again.

"Belle—"

Suddenly, her legs froze in place, locking at the knee. Belle spread her arms out to break her fall, but she never met the ground. No matter how much she shifted her weight forward, backward, or even to the side, her feet refused to leave the forest floor. It was as if…as if…

Rumpelstiltskin revolved around her, his face grim. Remorseful. Guilty. The breath halted in her lungs, colder than any winter in her father's kingdom. No. He wouldn't do that to her, would he? He wouldn't enslave her with magic…would he?

"If you'll allow me to explain—" Oh, gods, he did. Something inside her chest splintered painfully. Anger like an erupting volcano swirled and burned through Belle's veins.

"How dare you! How dare you use your magic over me! I'm not a possession you can simply control!" He shrugged carelessly despite the fact that he had forced his hand over his beloved. Did it even bother him at all? Or was he simply that skilled at hiding what he did not wish others to see? She knew he'd had centuries of practice.

"I figured it'd be easier than chasing you through the forest." The flatness of his tone startled her to no end. And then it angered her all the more. In his mind, using magic over her did not pose any problems; it was acceptable and just another show of his power. His power over her.

It was foul, tasteless…monstrous.

Wrenching her arm back, Belle let her instincts take charge and she slapped him straight across the face. It left a raging red print on his skin and the sharp sound rebounded through the woods. She was sure the entire town could hear it. Rubbing his throbbing jaw, his face became twisted with sorrow. She wondered if he was thinking he deserved it.

"Rumpelstiltskin…let me go," she bitterly demanded.

Eyes unwavering, she did not allow herself to feel anything for him except brutal, raw anger. The love, the comfort, the security was shoved down into the pit of her body, buried under everything else. Of course her emotions for him were still true, as every bit true as they had been an hour ago and a day ago. But allowing those emotions to run rampant would only mean greater damage to her heart.

Every second that passed, she became more convinced that he would refuse her wish. He would force her to stay there, until he'd given his acquiesce for her freedom. She was his prisoner, all over again. How had they come full-circle? Or had the circle always been the same and she was blind to its endless, circulating pattern?

"If you love me as you say you do, then release me." If he didn't…it would certainly destroy her, but at least she could come to terms with that which he most valued. She noticed his eyes narrow half in inch—in regret, not disgust or annoyance. Calculations clicked in his head; to release her or not to release her?

With an audible sigh, he lifted his hand and she pitched forward, the spell broken.

Too broken to meet his gaze, Belle rushed past him into the heart of the forest, granting it permission to swallow her whole. And, just as she asked, he released her and never bothered to watch her leave.

Poor Belle. Don't worry—I've got more things planned for this story yet.

Also, I got the idea of Belle's unfamiliarity with the television from a recent interview about OUAT. It was good of them to point out that Belle has never seen a television or a phone before.

I want to thank all my reviewers (of course) for all their support: MangGrl2665, RememberingYesterday, discotimelord, The Mistress Snape, rene10, DragonRose4, prttykitty7728, Romance and Musicals, Grace5231973, Kitani, and shaylove.

Thank you all so much for reading!