A/N: Thank you to all who followed and favourited, and welcome to my new readers. Some interesting theories coming out from my reviewers.
Ellie: thank you so much for your enthusiastic comments, it really means a lot that you guys are enjoying this fic. I hope I can continue to keep it interesting.
Erik'sTrueAngel: oh yes, lots to do. It all starts here.
Crazykat77, ecinspired, Kiri Huo Ziv, spacecats, The Auburn Girl, karolprado, rumbeller25, AngelOfMusic44, JustBFree, RaFire, deweymay, orthankg1, OneMagician, Twyla Mercedes, ra7matigorti2: thank you all for your lovely comments, and for making me laugh.
I'm afraid that there are some pretty strong hints at non-con in this chapter. Avoid the stuff in italics if that would a problem for you.
Belle decided that she was going to make dinner for Gold that evening, so after she and Ruby returned to the house, she started making cannelloni. She thought that if she put the dish together, she could simply put it in the oven when she got to his house, and it would bake while they shared a glass of wine or two. Billy was kind enough to drop her at Gold's house when he came to collect Ruby for their date, so Belle stood on Gold's porch with a ceramic dish covered in plastic wrap under one arm and her overnight bag on her shoulder. She also carried some salad, wine, and prepared garlic bread wrapped in foil in a grocery bag. Gold smiled as he opened the door, murmuring that she should have called Dover to collect her as he bent to kiss her. He looked tired, but smiled at her as he took the dish of cannelloni from her.
"I got back a couple of hours ago," he said, as he led her through to the kitchen. His limp seemed to be a little worse, and she frowned slightly. "You know, if you'd called I could have put the oven on."
"It's okay." Belle waved him towards one of the kitchen chairs and took charge, turning on the oven, getting her ingredients out of the grocery bag and taking glasses from his cupboard. "I brought wine, but I suppose you'd rather drink your own." She shot him a mischievous look, and he returned the smile.
"You know I never expect you to bring anything to drink," he said calmly, and she snorted.
"I know you never expect to drink stuff I can actually afford, yes," she said with a grin. Gold grunted something indecipherable, but twitched a smile at her, and reached for a bottle of red from the wine rack.
"So," said Belle, taking the plastic wrap off the cannelloni. "You didn't tell me a thing when you phoned. What's such a big deal that it had to be face to face?"
Gold sighed as he uncorked the wine, then turned to her slowly. "Midas has the Seer," he said quietly.
Belle almost dropped the dish she was holding as her eyes widened. "What?"
He nodded seriously. "Indeed. And I mean exact same woman, Belle. She's there. She knew me."
Belle was silent for a moment, leaning on the kitchen counter. "Is she – like us? Or is she something else?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "I know she's a prisoner, albeit a very comfortable one. She wants to get out of there, and she wants my help to do it. That's why she summoned me."
Belle turned towards him with an incredulous look. "She summoned you?"
Gold shrugged. "Good as. She told Midas that she had a vision that only I can give him what it is he wants."
"Which is?" Belle's voice was flat, harsh.
"The triskelion." He waited for the explosion, but she seemed to be undergoing some sort of quiet rage, instead.
"No bloody way," she said evenly, and he rolled his eyes.
"Belle, I wasn't considering actually giving it to him! She told him that because she knew what would happen. I would be called, I would demand to know why, and the two of us would meet."
"So what else did she tell you?" demanded Belle suspiciously, and he sighed.
"She said that she would tell me three things," he said. "That the box holds the key, that I must not let my desire for revenge blind me to the truth, and that I can kill my enemy, but there will be a terrible price."
Belle balled up the plastic wrap she had pulled from the ceramic dish, the plastic rustling and squeaking in her hands. She seemed to be thinking over what he had said.
"Your enemy?" she said quietly. "She means..?"
"I don't know," he said softly. "He was dead, Belle. We saw his body. I don't know how the Dark One is created, or whether there is more than one. This is a fairly sizeable gap in our knowledge."
She nodded, fidgeting with the ball of plastic before tossing it into the trash. "Alright. So we don't know it's him. It could be some other enemy we don't know about. For all we know, she could mean Midas."
"I think it's wise not to jump to any conclusions," he agreed. Belle sighed.
"A terrible price? I don't like the sound of that, Marcus. We have to be really careful here. We can't afford to make any mistakes."
"That's not everything," he said, and dug in his pocket. "She gave me something."
He held out his clenched fist to Belle, and dropped something into her palm. Belle's eyes widened as she saw the gold ring with its stone, and the slip of paper curled around it.
"'Use the knowledge at your disposal,'" she read, brow furrowing. "What does that mean?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "I was hoping you might."
Belle swallowed. "It was her. When I was Elizabeth. She woke me. She wore this ring then. Do you think it works the same way as ours do?"
"I don't know," he said honestly. "I don't remember it being part of the original ritual."
"Me neither." She turned the ring over in her hands. "The knowledge at our disposal. I don't know what to think. Can we trust her?"
"She's never given us reason not to," he said cautiously. "But I can't say for certain."
Belle sighed, handing the ring back to him and opening a cupboard to pull out the cheese grater. She went to the fridge and pulled out some mozzarella and parmesan, and began grating it into a dish to spread on the top of the cannelloni.
"I have no clue about what this could mean," she said as she worked. "I think we should show Doc. Is he free tonight?"
Gold looked as though she had thrown a bucket of water over him. "I – suppose I could call him," he said grudgingly. "I just…I wanted tonight to be about us, that's all."
Belle dusted crumbs of cheese from her hands, and turned to him with a smile, slipping her arms around his waist as she pulled him into the first proper hug they had had since she had arrived.
"Then we'll talk to him tomorrow," she agreed. "World's not gonna end because we decide to eat dinner together."
"I should be very upset if it did," he said dryly, and kissed her nose. She smiled up at him, then pulled back as the oven light clicked off to indicate that it was at the right temperature. She spread the grated cheese over the cannelloni and put the dish in the oven. Gold carried their glasses to the table and slid into one of the chairs.
"Let's enjoy our evening before we start worrying about anything else," he suggested, and she grinned in reply.
"What else did you get up to in Boston?" she asked, and he gave her a curious look.
"What makes you think I got up to anything?" he asked evasively, and she gave him a flat look.
"Knowing you," she said, and his mouth twitched. "Come on, I've seen that look before."
He sighed, rolled his eyes, and nodded. "I may have gotten all the information I could on that house of ill repute that Nottingham told me about."
Belle's face turned suddenly serious. "The one with the young girls? What are you going to do? Are you going to give it to Emma?"
"I thought about that," he admitted. "But I actually thought I'd give it to Sidney first."
Belle almost choked on her wine. "Sidney Glass? Why?"
"Because he'll be delighted to have a huge scandal to publish in his sordid little paper," explained Gold. "Because he'll sell the story to a national paper, or some news channel, and the genie will be out of the bottle, meaning the police will have to investigate. If I simply handed the matter over to Emma, the usual Boston strings would be pulled and the investigation would be shelved, as anything connected with Midas usually is. This way, it stands a much better chance of being dealt with if the whole country's watching." He was grinning at her, his eyes glinting, and she couldn't help smiling back.
"Sometimes you're too clever for your own good," she said, with mock severity, and he inclined his head.
"I seem to recall you've told me that before," he said.
She slid from her seat then, and started to make the salad.
"Anything else to tell me?" she asked.
"I didn't speak to anyone else," he said, which was the truth. He had briefly contemplated making good on his promise to Smee, but had decided that it wasn't the time. He had, however, gone to Smee's shop and allowed the man to see him watching him as he dealt with a customer. Gold had simply stood there with his hands folded around his cane, smiling his dark smile, and Smee had dropped a porcelain dish and started babbling to the woman he had been trying to sell it to. Feeling that the man would have a few sleepless nights worrying about it, Gold had decided to return to Storybrooke. There would be time to deal with the lying scumbag at a later date.
"What did you do in my absence?" he asked, and she turned to him with a smile, salad tongs in hand.
"We had girls' night," she said, batting her eyelids. "I told them all how we first met, and then Ruby and I went to get waxed. There's not a single hair on my body below my neck."
He felt himself twitch as he looked at her, her eyes wide and innocent. "How long does that pasta take?" he asked quietly, nodding to the oven, and she giggled, turning away.
"Sorry, Mr Gold, you're going to have to wait."
Little minx, he thought, eyeing her legs as she worked.
"When you say you told them how we met," he said. "Do you mean everything?"
Belle chuckled. "No, I kept it clean, but I told them everything else. The Seer, the ritual, the stones…"
"And did they believe you?" he asked. She hesitated, then brought the bowl of salad to the table and slid back onto her chair.
"Snow did," she said. "I think Ruby's on the fence, and Emma thinks I'm crazy."
He grunted. "Miss Swan needs three pieces of evidence before she'd believe the sun comes up in the morning."
"She's not one to take a leap of faith," agreed Belle. "Not sure what I can do to convince her. Don't suppose it matters, really. Unless she tries to get Archie to have me put away." Her wide grin showed she was joking, but he didn't like her to even hint about such things, given their past.
"Over my dead body," he said gently, and she squeezed his hand affectionately.
"I got together some supplies for our trip tomorrow," she said, changing the subject. "Doc's bringing some food and a couple of flashlights, and I've got the rest ready to go."
"Why don't you show me what you've found out," he suggested, and she nodded, getting up and grabbing a map of the area, which she spread on the table in front of him.
"Look, this is where your cabin is," she began, pointing to a spot on the map which she had marked. "And this is the town line of Storybrooke." Her finger moved away from the mark along the road. "Now, if we were to take this track here." She jabbed at a spot some way outside the town. "This is just outside what would have been the town of Salvation. You can see this hill." She tapped her fingertip against some contour lines which suggested a small hill. "This is where there are some ancient stones. Probably a few thousand years old, but no one seems to know much about them. Anyway, I've been reading over some old books about the local area, and there are apparently caverns beneath the hill. There's a river running through it, under the ground, and quite a few people died after falling into it. The area was fenced off back in the nineteenth century, and seems to have been forgotten about."
"Interesting," he said, taking a drink. "So you think that what we're looking for is under there?"
Belle nodded. "Father Thomas wrote of the cave beneath the ancient stones. I can't see anything else in the area that would be suitable, at least not from the local maps. I suggest we try here first."
"Agreed." He sat back in his seat as she folded up the map. "I can see you've been busy."
"Oh, I still have plenty of energy left," she said cheerfully, and flashed him a wicked smile.
"You may regret saying that, my dear," he said softly, and grinned as he saw her shiver. Tonight was going to be an interesting test of will, it seemed. Pity he was so hungry; he could happily drag her upstairs right now. Belle blushed, seeming to know what he was thinking.
"Tell me what else you know about what this priest did," he said, changing the subject, and she launched into a tale of what she had discovered about the steps that Father Thomas had taken to bind the dark creature. Doc had said they would need the triskelion, and on the basis of prior use of the object, Belle surmised that they would need to unlock something. Gold nodded, hoping that this time, things would turn out more successfully. He couldn't cope with another failure. He was already desperately afraid for Belle, and if he could have convinced her to stay behind, he would have done. He knew that there was no chance of that, of course, but it would have been nice not to have to think about the terrible things that could happen. His nights were disturbed enough as it was.
Isabelle sagged against the wall, the pain of the wounds across her back keeping her alert, her wrists rubbed raw and bleeding by the iron manacles. They had removed the irons from her ankles, and she was able to stand, which she chose to do despite her weariness. She refused to lie on the straw-covered floor, as if lying down would somehow signify her acceptance of what they had done to her. The moon had risen, casting a pale, cold light across the cell and causing shadows to pool and grow in the hidden corners. The cell was damp, the straw musty-smelling with the stench of the previous occupants' sweat, stale urine and fear, and she had stopped crying some time ago. She didn't feel that she could summon any more tears if she tried. She wished desperately for Rum to return, to free her. There was so much they still had to do; their child was to be born, to be raised by happy and loving parents. It was not supposed to end this way, with her slumped in a squalid cell, unable even to say goodbye to her true love.
The screech of metal made her raise hollow eyes to the door, and she saw the bobbing light of a lantern enter the room, held by a robed figure. She recognised the monk with the glittering eyes whose name she didn't know, the one who had arrested her at the blacksmith's house and stood silent and threatening by the Cardinal's side at her trial. He put the lantern down on the floor and stood for a moment, watching her. Isabelle raised her chin defiantly.
"Are you here to administer the Last Rites, Brother?" she asked bitterly. "I'm amazed that the Cardinal would grant such a thing to a convicted witch."
He let out a soft chuckle that made her blood run cold, and let the cowled robe fall, revealing the leather trousers and jerkin suitable for a knight. "Hardly that," he said in amusement. "My power comes from a source far older than this ridiculous Church."
He leant in towards her, and Isabelle gasped as his skin seemed to flicker and change. His appearance turned from a normal, slightly fleshy man with a flattened nose red with broken veins, to a creature with wild hair, its skin a mottled grey-green colour, flecked with gold. He leered at her, teeth blackened in his face, his large, black eyes glinting maliciously, and Isabelle felt as though her heart was trying to jump from her chest.
"You!" she breathed, her eyes wide with horror and fear.
"It's over, girl," he breathed, his voice a hoarse rasp. "I am out in the world once more, and you die at sunrise. Your precious trio has failed, and their line will end with you."
"We bound you," said Isabelle numbly, and he let out a dark chuckle that turned her stomach.
"Indeed. Ironic that I should swap one prison for another," he said, with amusement.
"What prison?" she asked, curious despite herself. He leant in towards her as though he was about to impart a great secret. His black fingernails, almost as sharp as talons, dug into her smooth cheeks, and she winced.
"I have a new master, girl," he whispered. "He released me from the cage you put me in, and now controls me, or so he believes. But when I steal back my power and tear his heart from his chest I will once more be free to do as I wish to any inhabitant of this miserable spit of rock."
He pulled back slightly, so that she could see his gleaming eyes, his unpleasant leer. "Until that day comes, however, he assures me that I am free to do as I wish to you," he purred. "As long as I don't mark your pretty face, of course. The townsfolk will need to be able to recognise you when you die." He looked her over curiously, as if contemplating his next move. "That one caveat does leave me with many delicious options, however."
He ran a finger slowly down her cheek and throat to dip into the hollow between her breasts. Isabelle's heart leapt with fear, and she shook her head in a panic.
"My father…the monks," she began nervously. "My fate has been decided."
"Oh, indeed," he agreed. "By them. But you see, my dear, you and I have unfinished business to attend to." He looked her up and down slowly, and licked his lips, making her shiver. "Not something I usually do, but I think in your case I'd be happy to make an exception."
Isabelle swallowed hard, her heart pounding. "W-what do you mean?"
"No need to act so coy with me, my Lady," he sneered. "The two of us being such old friends, and all. I'm well aware that you married your Spinner again; I can smell him all over you, so you should be used to the touch of a man."
"You're not a man!" she snapped, fear making her suddenly furious. "You're a monster!"
His eyes flashed with black fire, and she cried out as he slammed into her, pressing the length of his body against hers so that she could feel all of him, his hands cupping her breasts and squeezing painfully. The wounds on her back broke open again as she was pushed against the rough stone walls of the cell. She could feel him hard against her belly, like some dreadful parody of a lover, and she let out a whimper, trying to turn away but held fast.
"I assure you that I am a man in every way that counts," he whispered, hot breath on her face. He bent forward and slowly licked her cheek, and she shuddered with revulsion as he suddenly pulled back, a gleam of interest in his eyes.
"Well, what have we here?" he purred, and put a swift hand on her belly, Isabelle struggled and cried out as she felt a strange pulse go through her. He chuckled.
"It seems that you are not the only thing that will be ending," he said, unable to contain his glee. "You're pregnant. Oh, this is just too precious!"
Isabelle's mouth dropped open. "How did you..?" She looked down at her flat belly as though she would somehow see the evidence of new life there, then dragged her gaze back up to his, desperation in her face. "Please!" she begged. "It's innocent!"
He shrugged. "I could pull it from you, of course, but it wouldn't survive." He clapped his hands together. "Oh, how I will love telling him of the death of his wife and child! Not to mention your ravishment at my hands. It will be our most memorable interaction to date!"
Isabelle slumped back against the wall. There would be no pleading with this creature, and she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of begging or the excitement of seeing her struggle uselessly. She stared at him defiantly as he tore open the bodice of her dress, refusing to cry even though the feel of his hands on her made her want to vomit. She knew that she would die, but the thought that her child would die too, and Rum's pain when he found out, were almost enough to break her. All she could hope for was that Rum and Doc would find a way to bind the creature without her, and that she would return in the future to help them destroy him. She bit back a scream as he sank his teeth into her, his hands grasping at her skirts and tugging them upwards. She would not cry, no matter what. She didn't think that she would be able to hold back her screams, but she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her tears. It was a small defiance, but she clung to it with all the strength she possessed.
Gold was jerked rudely awake by Belle's shrieking, and opened bleary eyes to see her sitting bolt upright in bed and scrabbling at the sheets twisted around her. He tried to wrap his sleep-dulled brain around what was happening as he grabbed her shoulders. Her shrieks increased in intensity as she tried to pull free.
"Hey, hey, hey!" he said soothingly, trying to calm her. It seemed to work, she stopped screaming and instead wrenched herself away, tumbling from the bed and crawling rapidly to the wall, where she curled into a ball and wept.
Gold took a few deep breaths to calm his hammering heart, and pushed the sheets aside, slipping his legs over the side of the bed. She had her arms wrapped around her legs, which were drawn up to her head, as small as she could make herself, weeping bitterly. He saw no option but to get down to her level, and so he lowered himself to the floor, cursing his leg for the thousandth time, and scooted towards her on the heels of his hands, his expression wary.
"Belle," he said gently. His voice, soft. A hesitant hand on her shoulder, making her flinch. Which made him flinch. What had she been dreaming of? "Belle, sweetheart, it's not real. None of it. It was a dream. I promise, I will never let anything happen to you again."
Snuffles from Belle. She lifted her face from her bent knees, and he saw her hollow eyes and frantic stare.
"It's alright, my love," he said tenderly, reaching up to touch her face. She let him, this time, leaning into his touch, and he moved closer to take her in his arms, shifting her slight weight onto his lap as he held her close.
"It's alright," he soothed, and she wept anew, clinging to him as he stroked her hair. They stayed like that for a long time, until Belle cried herself out and long after his leg had gone to sleep from the unusual pressure. Eventually, she pulled back a little, sniffing and gulping.
"It was so real," she said in a whisper, shuddering. He swallowed hard.
"A dream?" he asked, dreading the answer. "Or – a memory?"
She was silent for a while, tightening her grip on him. "A memory," she admitted, and he squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, feeling the depth of his failure.
"Would you – like to talk about it?" he asked gently, and his eyes widened in surprise as she pushed back from him, shaking her head, and stood up.
"Never," she muttered, and blundered through to the bathroom.
He sat on the floor for a moment, rubbing at his numb leg, then wearily heaved himself up and returned to bed. When she returned, she had a wobbly smile on her face, and she cuddled against him when she got into bed. He wasn't fooled.
"Belle," he said quietly. "What is it?"
She hesitated. "I can't talk about it," she said quietly. "Just hold me. Please?"
Her eyes were wide, pleading, and he nodded with a sigh, wrapping his arms around her. Secrets. Horrors. They both had their fair share of demons. But how he wanted to help her kill hers.
When the Dark One had finally gone, after kissing her full on the lips and stroking her hair almost tenderly, Isabelle let herself sink to the ground, too horrified and agonised to cry. She could feel wetness on her thighs, running from between her legs, and she wasn't sure if it was blood, or something else that she was trying hard not to think about. She tried to curl into a ball, wanting to ignore the stinging pain, but the manacles on her wrists did not allow for such movement. She squatted there, shaking uncontrollably, her head ringing with a strange, high-pitched sound that seemed to block out everything else around her. She wasn't sure how long the whole ordeal had taken, but the moon's position had shifted some way, the shadows inside the cell changing.
"My Lady?" She raised her head wearily at the sound of Brother Phillip's voice, and he stood on the other side of the bars, his expression shocked. She suspected that he could see the look of utter desolation on her face. He fumbled with the keys, opening the door and hurrying to her side, helping her up.
"Who has done this to you?" he asked urgently, refastening the bodice of her dress while somehow managing to avert his eyes. Isabelle shook her head.
"One of the monks that waits on the Cardinal," she said despondently. "I don't know his name, but he is pure evil, Brother Phillip. A demon in human form."
The kind monk shook his head, disgusted. "I do not care what they have convicted you of. To treat a maid in such a way…"
"I'm not a maid," said Isabelle numbly. "Not anymore."
Brother Phillip's eyes started out of his head. "Do you mean – did he..?"
She shrugged. "He did, but that's not what I meant. I married Rum, Brother. We've been married since the spring. I'm expecting a baby." She let out a small laugh that held no amusement. "So, tomorrow, the Cardinal gets to have the deaths of two innocents on his hands."
Brother Phillip gaped at her. "But – the Church cannot kill a child!" he protested. "You must tell them, my Lady. You must say that you are with child."
"It won't make any difference," said Isabelle sadly, but he shook his head.
"I shall speak to his Grace," he said gently. "This will not be permitted. As for the monk – which one was it? He must be severely punished."
Isabelle lifted her head to look into his eyes. "If you try to help me, you will be killed," she said clearly. "He's too powerful, Brother. Who will take the word of a witch over one such as him?"
Brother Phillip opened and closed his mouth, seemingly at a loss for words, and Isabelle reached up to touch his cheek.
"You've always been kind to me," she said. "Now I need you to do something for me. I need you to give Rum a message. You need to tell him that the Dark One is free, disguised as a monk, and that he has a master who is controlling him. Can you do that?"
His brow wrinkled. "I don't understand…"
"I know," she nodded. "But please, give him the message."
"Brother Phillip!" snapped a voice from outside the cell, and both Phillip and Isabelle jumped. Brother Saul stood there, along with the Dark One, once more disguised as the monk with the glittering eyes. Isabelle shuddered visibly.
"That's him!" she hissed under her breath. "Be careful, Brother!"
"Brother Phillip!" repeated Saul. "You should not be here alone with the witch! She will poison your mind and damn your soul."
Phillip sighed, drawing back from Isabelle. "I will speak to him," he said gently, and Isabelle sagged with relief as the monks left. At least Rum and Doc would have some warning. She stiffened as she heard soft footsteps outside the cell, and shrank back against the wall as she saw the Dark One looking in at her. Her heart thumped with terror.
"I have an unshakeable feeling that Brother Phillip will not survive to pass on your message," he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. "But I will be sure to tell your Spinner of everything that happened between us, my Lady, never fear."
"Bastard!" shouted Isabelle, fear and rage burning within her, and he shook his head, tutting gently.
"I see the evil has taken a firm hold in you," he said. "It clearly likes how you taste." He ran his tongue over his lips, making her feel sick, then turned on his heel to leave, allowing Isabelle to sink to the floor again. She finally allowed herself to weep.
When Gold awoke at his usual six-thirty, the bed beside him was empty and cold. Frowning to himself, he got up and pulled on his robe, making his way downstairs. Belle had fallen asleep in his arms, and he had watched over her for some time in case she had another nightmare. If she had, she had not woken him. He entered the kitchen and saw her sitting at the table drinking coffee. She raised her eyes with a wan smile, but she looked drawn and tired, her eyes red from crying. She stood up, putting down her cup.
"You had another nightmare, didn't you?" he said gently, and she nodded.
"Didn't want to wake you," she said, rubbing her nose awkwardly. He sighed, beckoning to her, and folded his arms around her as she let herself relax against him.
"You can always wake me if you're upset," he said gently, and felt her let out a shuddering breath.
"At least one of us should be alert today," she pointed out, and he nodded. She pulled away, turning to the fridge. "What do you want for breakfast?"
"I'll make breakfast," he said firmly. "Go and have a shower, wake yourself up."
An hour later, when they had eaten and cleaned up, Belle seemed to feel a little better. She started packing the food and other items she intended for them to take; maps, her grandmother's book, flashlights, hot coffee and blankets. Gold went down to the basement and brought up some rope and a folding ladder.
"I don't intend to spend the night out there," he remarked, as he saw how much Belle had packed, and she shot him a fond look.
"It doesn't hurt to be prepared for every eventuality," she said primly, making him smile. She eyed him as he dropped the coil of rope on the kitchen table.
"You can't seriously be thinking of going out into the woods in a suit," she said disbelievingly.
"I'm wearing wellingtons," he said defensively, and she giggled as she saw the dark green rubber boots that reached to his knees.
"Hardly suitable attire, is it?" she asked, amused, and he sniffed.
"I refuse to battle evil in jeans and walking boots," he said stiffly, waving his hand at her own, far more practical outfit. She giggled again.
Doc arrived soon after they had finished packing, his own bag of food and essentials slung over his shoulder, and Gold lost no time in filling him in on the events in Boston. Doc took the ring in his hand and turned it over and over.
"Can you sense anything?" asked Belle, and he gave her a look.
"It doesn't work that way, you know that," he said. "I can see us using this ring, though. We'll use it to wake another. I can't see their face. It will be important."
"Helpful as always," sighed Gold. "Anything else?"
"Yes," said Doc briskly. "I see that, at some point in the future, I will take that sarcastic head of yours and stick it somewhere unpleasant."
Belle giggled. "Too late, he's had his head up his arse for years."
They both chuckled as Gold frowned.
"In reality," continued Doc, more seriously. "I can see us entering a cave. There's water running through it. It's a dangerous place. We must be tied together at all times."
Belle looked immensely satisfied. "That ties in with my theory about the location," she said. "I'm ready when you are, boys."
Forty minutes later, they found themselves standing at the foot of a hill in the woods outside Storybrooke. They had had to park the car some way back on a narrow dirt track, and walk the rest of the way. Belle had tied brightly coloured strips of fluorescent plastic around tree trunks as they walked, to ensure that if they had to find their way back in the dark, they would have an easier time of it. The hill loomed above them, a few of the standing stones at the top visible from where they were.
"I guess the cave is somewhere around here," said Belle, a little nervously. They began to walk slowly around the hill, pushing through brambles and ferns as they went. Eventually Gold made a noise in his throat and pointed up ahead. They saw a dark depression in the side of the hill, which as they got closer turned out to be a small opening into the dark interior. The remains of a rusted iron fence clung to the rock beside it, but did nothing to block the entrance. There was the distant sound of running water. Gold shivered as he looked at the cave entrance, a sudden sense of foreboding creeping through him. This was definitely the place; he could almost taste the darkness coming from it.
Doc took out his flashlight and shone it into the opening, and a narrow tunnel stretched away from them.
"Looks like this is it," he said carefully. "The rope, please, Marcus."
Gold took the coil of rope from his bag, and tied it securely around Doc's waist, then his own, and finally Belle's. She gave him a nervous, but excited smile, and he kissed her nose impulsively. It was just like old times.
"Well," said Doc, looking back at them. "Here we go."
Hefting the folding ladder under his arm, and his flashlight in the other, he led the way into the cave, Gold and Belle bringing up the rear.
A/N: Under the hill they go…
Next time: they find one piece of the puzzle.