A/N: Sorry for that terrible cliffhanger, everyone. But, good news: this chapter will certainly make amends in that aspect. I hope you all enjoy it.

Crush it, squeeze it, destroy it…

The command spiraled endlessly through his brain, taunting him with various forms while retaining the same message. Kill her. The crux of the matter, the desired result as requested by Regina. It burned along his veins, all the way to his fingers cradling Belle's throbbing heart.

Every second, it became harder to ignore. It was a fierce uphill battle with the odds stacked against him.

His teeth ground together until they ached, his chest heaved with heavy breaths, his legs were struggling to move as though trudging through water. The messages to his brain were torn between obeying the Queen's command and instructing his fingers not to squeeze that heart. The command was a black disease infiltrating his system and there were not enough white blood cells to prevent it.

Flocking around Belle, the Queen waited for her wish to be heeded. She knew that resistance was futile, the dagger glinting sharply between her hooked digits.

Despite all his efforts, he took a step forward. Someone stop me, he silently pleaded as he was drawn to Belle like a moth to an iridescent flame.

"What do you think you're doing? You're not going to kill her," Jefferson exclaimed, his voice echoing around the circular chamber. He had the audacity to stride across the marbled floor in an attempt to seize Belle's heart from his grasp. And he would have gladly released it to Jefferson if it meant Belle would live.

But the sudden ear-shattering explosion of gunshot pierced his eardrums, a split second before Jefferson's body crumpled to the hard, cold floor.

Stalling for a second, he glanced over his shoulder at the fallen hatter. His limbs convulsed and blood pumped from a wound in his lower chest. Belle covered her mouth with a hand to stifle her rising scream while Emma's knees buckled. She dropped to the floor, scurrying to Jefferson's side. There was no second gunshot, but that was because Sidney was transfixed in the corner with the gun quivering in his gloved hand, coming to terms with the gruesome fact that he'd shot another human being.

And Regina smiled.

"Jefferson," Emma gasped, lifting his head into her lap. His head lolled until his jaw brushed her stomach. His eyes rolled wildly and his lips moved silently, trying to speak. Emma glared with unforgiving hatred at the Queen. "Regina, you have to stop this! Now!"

But Regina clasped her hands together, the dagger embraced between them, and laughed deeply.

"Stop? Why should I? I'm winning," she declared piously. Her eyes flickered to Rumpelstiltskin, two shining orbs of coal. "What are you waiting for? Kill her!"

And he took another careful step forward. His feet betrayed him, bringing him closer to Belle when what he really wanted to do was stay as far away from her as possible. The closer he came, the more of a threat he was to her. Fingers wriggling over her heart, they tried to decide whether to dig in or not.

"Gold, don't do it! You can't kill her! She's your true love, isn't she?" Emma desperately reasoned, but his brain seemed incapable of processing her words. All he could hear was the caramel dripping of Regina's request, as though skipping on a track. Crush it, squeeze it, kill her.

"Haven't you been listening, Sheriff? Love is weakness," Regina drawled leisurely. "It doesn't matter if he loves her or not. He is the Dark One and he must do as I say. That is his curse, his weakness. Besides, we all know monsters are incapable of love."

Even as his muscles strived to satisfy her, his lip curled in a wretched sneer. If that lousy dagger were not the bane of his existence, he would not hesitate to show Regina just how much of a monster he could be. She will pay for this, he seethed. She will pay for the rest of her miserable, lonely life.

"He is not the monster, Regina. You are," Belle roared magnificently, startling Regina from her glorious reverie of victory. "He is a better person than you can ever hope to be." It ached to know that Belle held so much faith in him, now, when he was about to make the worst mistake of his life. That pure faith only spurred Regina's mockery.

"We shall see," she hissed, fixing her focus on the heart in his hand.

One step at a time, he came within a foot of his love. His fingers reached out to trace the skin of her jaw, soft as petals. Belle tentatively met his eyes and he saw nothing but incredible love and strength coloring her irises. Past her strong-willed efforts to accept her fate, her shoulders trembled. A strap of her dress slipped down and he longed to hitch it back up again. A sob caught in her throat as he caressed her rosy cheek.

"Sweetheart," he whispered with all the emotion he could muster. It thrust an icy stone slab into his chest to witness this brave, virtuous young woman prepare herself for death. It was difficult for the words to make their way to his tongue. "It'll all be over soon," he promised.

A silent tear escaped her eyelids and soaked into the skin of his thumb. To her credit, she never closed her eyes, never turned her head away from what was inevitable to come. This was the way he would always remember her—despite her lowly, dismal situation, she would not utter a word of complaint.

And her heart pulsed in his palm. Oh, gods, he…he…

"I love you, Belle." If he was inches away from losing her forever, it was time he allowed himself to be completely unabashedly open with her. He was offering himself on a platter, if she would take it once more. There would be no hope of having her enter his shop again, miraculously alive.

Something changed in her demeanor, but it flashed too quickly for him to register its meaning. The weight of her head sunk into his hand and her own delicate hand rose to hold his there.

"I love you, Rumpelstiltskin." He tried to take his hand away, but she stubbornly clamped down on it, refusing to give him the easy way out. Closing his eyes, he felt his fingers begin to apply pressure, begin to squeeze…and the screams would start fresh…

Without warning, Belle grabbed up fistfuls of his suit and tugged him against her body. Her lips sought out his hesitant ones, melding perfectly together for one last kiss. In a split second, with his own heart splintering into jagged pieces, his free hand flew from her cheek to her neck to hold her tighter. His mouth reciprocated, responding gently.

It was an undemanding, pure kiss that reminded him of their very first time—he could almost smell the straw mixed with the sweet rose scent of her hair and hear the creak of the wheel as it spun. Never had he felt more broken and more complete at the same time. Never had he poured his soul into a person, everything he was and had now lay at her feet.

And it would soon end with her untimely death at his hands.

Something warm clouded his eyes and he realized he, too, was crying. It was the worst fate he could possibly imagine; Regina would refuse to kill him after he satisfied her command. That would be a blessing. He was to live with his guilt, his pain, his broken heart.

They say it is better to have loved and lost…But I do love you…

The kiss broke, their lips parting for air. To him, it was akin to being suffocated underneath a pillow. Already the taste of her was becoming less and less evident every time he licked his lips. All he could see was the shade of cerulean oceans.

"Oh, how sweet," Regina mocked blatantly. Clucking her tongue, she made a condescending tsk-tsk. "If you're trying to prove to our savior just how weak your love truly is, the two of you deserve an encore. I will not ask you again, Rumpel. Kill her. Next time, I plan to finish it myself."

Belle seemed content enough with their last kiss to rest her head against his chest, as close to him as she could possibly be. His fingers stroked the tangled strands of her chestnut hair before dipping down to sensually rub the small of her back.

But the craving was no longer there.

Stiffening, he listened to the silence of the chamber, so loud without the whisper of Regina's command. Blessedly, the muscles of his legs and arms relaxed, his fingers loosened around Belle's beating heart. No longer was there an insatiable thirst to squeeze it.

Most delicious of all, one word teased his lips, begging for passage.

"No."

Regina stuttered aloud in shock at his unexpected resistance. Emma sharply lifted her head, hope radiating from her in waves. Belle smiled and breathed a sigh of relief into the lapels of his suit. The clever girl.

"That is impossible. You can't defy the dagger unless…" Smirking, he deliberately treated himself to brushing the back of his hand across Belle's cheek.

"Unless it were…true love's kiss?" The color drained from Regina's face until it shone milky white. Ever so slowly, her gaze dropped to the blade in her grip. Over and over she rotated it, but there was no sign of Rumpelstiltskin's name. The binds had been severed.

The next time Regina dared to lock eyes with Rumpelstiltskin, realizing that the tables had turned most unfortunately, there was no hint of mercy waiting to be found. There were two hard patches of earth, searing into her very soul.

"Belle, do me a favor. Hold this," he murmured and eagerly handed her own heart into her palms.

He scrutinized Regina dangerously as a vulture would observe its sighted prey before swooping. Regina knew she was in trouble and began backing away only to bump into the wall of heart boxes. She waved the dagger in front of her, her only weapon.

With the swiftness of a rattlesnake, he lunged and caught her by the throat. The dagger had swiped the skin of his arm, slicing open his suit and shedding scarlet blood, but he ignored the pain. His knee came up and smashed against her wrist, forcing her to release the blade. It clattered somewhere on the floor, out of reach.

The weight of his body pinned her painfully to the wall, his figure flush against hers. All the while her eyeballs boggled from the increasing pressure on her throat, cutting off all circulation of air. It was her turn to suffer.

"What was that, Your Majesty? You want me to squeeze? Your wish is my command," he growled into the shell of her ear, his breath hot against her earlobe. And then his grip tightened until her mouth dropped open in a silent scream. Her nails raked over the skin of his wrist, trying to draw it off.

"Stop it! If you kill her, then you're no better than she is," the rough, haughty voice of Emma insisted over his shoulder. Desperate hands scrambled over his suited arms as their little heroine tried to pry him away from Regina. Growing irritated, he lashed out and flung her backward to the floor like a useless ragdoll. Now, Madame Mayor, where were we?

The sound of a bustle came from the corner of the room, but he didn't have the mind to care. All he was interested in doing was squeezing the life from Regina as she had desired him to do to Belle. It was what she deserved. Come to think of it, her lips were turning a sickly blue hue.

Something cold pressed to the nape of his neck. The barrel of the gun; it only took him a matter of seconds to understand. Did that lovesick genie really have the guts to defend his unrequited love?

Shifting his head to the side, he was taken aback to see Sidney's limp form on the floor. Emma was the one brandishing the gun now. Which was more deadly? An oaf acting out of undue love or a stubborn heroine acting out of the goodness and virtue of her heart?

"Let her go, Gold," she flatly demanded, urging the gun into his neck. Regina's widened eyes rolled to Emma behind him, pleading for help. The irises were becoming disoriented—she was on the verge of passing out in his hold.

"Are you going to shoot me, Emma? She's the one in need of punishment," he replied coldly, jerking Regina's head into the stack of chests that stored her hearts. Perhaps he should make good on his word and rip out that filthy one from her chest. With its size being so terribly small, it must not take much encouragement to be ground to dust.

"That is not up to you to decide," Emma retorted. Belle's chains skittered across the floor as she tried to reach the object of her affection. The length of the chains stretched until she was brought up short by a few feet.

"Please! Don't shoot him. He's only trying to protect me," she cried out. He felt the gun nudge his skull once more and he imagined Emma's finger curled around the trigger. Would she really pull it, intending to kill him? Studying the pitiful situation that Regina was caught in, he decided she might.

"Doesn't give him the right to kill her," she mumbled. That only made him press his thumbs harder into the hollow of Regina's throat. That raven head dipped forward loosely, consciousness slipping through her fingers.

"Oh, but she has the right to force me to murder my true love. Funny outlook on life you have, Sheriff," he viciously tossed over his shoulder. "A double-edged sword, isn't it? You're holding the gun, Emma. The choice is in your hands. If you choose to spare me, I will inevitably kill her very slowly. Pull the trigger and no doubt she will still kill Belle and you in the end. Which is it?"

Just as he had expected, Emma faltered. Either way, she had blood on her hands. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, her integrity was worthless.

"He's still alive, you know. Barely, but he is only unconscious. Bleeding out as we speak," he said, tilting his head to Jefferson's unmoving body. His chest rose ever so slightly, unnoticeable unless you were watching. "He'll never make it to the hospital in time. Only I can help him."

"I don't care what you can do, Gold. All that matters is what you won't do. And you're not killing Regina. I'm choosing option three." His brow furrowed thoughtfully. Option three? He hadn't been aware of any such option—

"No, wait!" Belle shouted.

Something solid connected with his head, dazing his senses. He hadn't realized Emma had been holding his cane along with the gun. Stunned, his body fell away from Regina, allowing her to choke for air. The room spun in a million degrees as he crashed into the wall. Now he knew how Emma felt when he'd struck her with his cane in the cabin.

What was that fancy saying? What goes around comes around.

"Thank…you…" Regina croaked, rubbing her already bruised neck. Emma sent her a piercing glare and trapped her firmly by the shoulder.

"Don't thank me yet. You don't deserve to get off that easily. You'll be going somewhere nice and cozy, Madame Mayor." She pivoted her blonde head in Jefferson's direction, regret welling up in her face. "You said you could help him," she reminded Rumpelstiltskin.

Gradually, he rose to his feet and limped across the room to where Jefferson lay. The hatter had certainly seen better days, even in Wonderland. His foot nudged his leg and there was a barely audible moan of agony from deep inside Jefferson's throat.

He could feel the intensity of Belle's stare burning into his back as he bent down and placed a hand directly over the deadly wound. Channeling that old energy, he was not sure if he possessed it until a violet aura radiated from his hand, ebbing over Jefferson's suit. This well of magic was decidedly different; it did not choke him or control him with a dark menacing being as before. This time, the magic came to him because he chose to help Jefferson of his own will.

The troublesome bullet found its way into his palm, the wound closing until it was hardly there at all. Only a faint white scar revealed the spot where Jefferson had been shot. His breathing came much easier than before, though he did not regain consciousness.

"Consider that repayment for helping me find Belle," he told Emma as he stood up. Emma waited to hear Jefferson's rhythmic breathing before leading Regina from the chamber. To his surprise, she paused on the threshold and glanced back at him in calculation.

"I won't say you're a good man, Gold. That would be optimistic. But…you're not that much of a monster, either." Emma offered Belle one last long look and then she ascended the stairs, dragging the Queen out into the night.

….

"No, what are you doing? You can't do this to me!" Regina howled all the way down the dim corridor.

The minute she figured out her intended fate, she started struggling for freedom. But Emma simply knocked her knee into Regina's leg to keep her moving and reminded her of the gun that prodded her head. Emma wasn't even sure she would ever pull the trigger, but Regina seemed compliant enough.

"Why, Madame Mayor, haven't you heard? Payback's a bitch," Emma muttered before edging open the cell door next to Sidney's. Ironically, it used to belong to a lonely, miserable girl by the name of Isabella French. "Welcome home."

And she roughly shoved Regina inside the cell, locking the door behind her. Noises of banging and kicking followed Emma's heels down the winding hallway. The long-haired janitor mopping the floor offered her a polite nod.

"You can't do this! You can't leave me here! I just wanted to win for once! I…I'm sorry!" Emma scoffed as she passed by the nurse's station and climbed the narrow steps to the false exit above, intending to wait around until the ambulance showed up carrying Jefferson's body.

"No, you're not," she huffed under her breath. "Not yet."

…

"Have you ever done this before?"

Belle had released her heart again to Rumpelstiltskin, only so he could return it to its proper place. Naïve about magic, she did not possess the knowledge of how to replace the organ inside her chest herself. Tentatively, his tongue darted out to trace his upper lip.

"No," he admitted honestly. His concentration was fully trained on guiding the heart toward her body. "Unlike Regina, I do not rip out hearts simply because I can. There must be a reason. Likewise, the people whose hearts I claim don't often live to tell the tale."

Belle made a small round 'O' with her lips in bleak understanding, but did not disrupt him further. She could tell this was an unnerving task for him by the way his muscles seemed to bunch up around his shoulders and the small trickle of sweat that hovered above his brow. She spread her arms to allow him full access to her chest as need be.

"This may hurt," he warned, but Belle did not appear frightened. Regina had caused her enough suffering to outweigh any that he could provoke. Gently, she placed a hand on his wrist and found it trembling.

"I trust you," she ensured with a tone that suggested he was silly for thinking otherwise. Slowly, her hand dropped away from his wrist. Leaning her head back against the wall, she waited.

In one sudden thrust—for these things really couldn't be done slowly without risking greater pain—the heart was shoved through the golden fabric into her chest. Belle's eyelids fluttered closed as his fingers moved it into place. For a tense moment, it seemed she was unable to draw a breath. Her skin took on the texture of creamy porcelain.

"Belle?" It was merely a whisper, but he hoped she heard it.

Fearfully, he wondered if he'd somehow done it wrong. Panic began to rise within him, making his nerves coil with anxiety and despair. Did he perhaps push the heart into her lung? Was such a thing remotely possible? Oh, gods, what if in some twisted last touch of fate, he killed her? He put his free hand to her chin, peering closely at her eyelids.

"Sweetheart, please…come back to me. Say something." He rested his forehead against hers and willed her to breathe again.

There was an intense gasp from Belle's throat before her eyes shot wide open. He smiled faintly as color brightened her cheeks, returning them to their previous rosy hue. Then he realized his hand was still buried in her chest.

"You certainly know how to get straight to the point. Thank you," she whispered, even as he used magic to sever the shackles around her wrists. "Thank you for everything you've done. For saving me and Jefferson."

He knew this was her sly way of asking about his use of magic without actually nagging about it. And he found he was willing to be honest with her, at least partly while he tried to sort out the raving thoughts in his head. She was to be his wife, after all; a thought that both thrilled him and wracked his nerves to no end.

""What can I say? I've used magic for so many years, relied on it for so many reasons…I suppose not all traces of it can be vanquished. Except now, I have full control over what I do with it, not that dark being that used me as its host." He scoffed at the idea of the Dark One. Then, he looked to her uncertainly. "Unless…you'd rather I not…?"

Belle rubbed her red wrists and offered him a kind smile. She drifted to him and ran a hand along the line of his jaw.

"How many times must I tell you before you listen? I love you. It doesn't matter what world we find ourselves in or what form you take. You've always held my heart in your hand and I've always chosen to see you in one light." As a better man than I give myself credit for, he recalled from their time spent in the cabin in the woods.

"Believe it or not, I think I'm starting to understand it," he said, more to himself than to his fiancée. He drew back from her long enough to retrieve the simple dagger that was once so powerful. It had even lost some of its luster along the blade as a result of the absence of magic. "Amazing. For centuries, this dagger has been my weakness. Without it, I thought I would be nearly indestructible. Now, I see I was wrong."

Joining Belle's side, he shot the dagger down into the floor, where it quivered before standing tall. He curled a lock of her rich hair around his finger and drowned in her soft blue eyes. Only it wasn't really drowning; that was the wrong word. It was more like…free-falling into the sky.

"It's been you. For a long time, it's been you, Belle. You are my weakness, as much as you are my strength." Taking her hand, he placed a chaste kiss over the shining gem of her engagement ring. "Let's go home." And then he took her away from that wretched place.

…

Emma lightly knocked on the door of the hospital room and debated whether to go in. Dr. Whale had informed her that Jefferson was awake and was allowed to have visitors. And there he was: lounging back in his bed and watching re-runs of Bewitched on the flimsy television hanging on the wall.

"I wish I could have anything I want with the twitch of my nose. This woman makes it look so easy," he exclaimed without looking away from the screen. He tried twitching his nose, but failed miserably.

"Glad to see you're more or less back to normal," she mused as she entered the room. His dark eyes flickered to her and they gleamed with amusement. Oh, yes, there was that arrogant look about him and that flirtatious curve of his lips.

"Define normal," he challenged. She defiantly tried to give him the most serious stare she could. It was a little contest between them and Emma blinked first.

"I meant normal for you," she clarified.

Decidedly, she took a seat in the chair beside his bed and all at once the muscles in her legs screamed in relief. The ordeal of tonight had taken a gigantic toll on her and she was about ready to tumble into a bed and sleep for one hundred years. But first she revealed the object that she had been clutching for the past half hour.

"I brought your hat. I'm sure you'd throw a tantrum if you lost it."

Gratefully, he accepted it and placed it atop his head. Emma had to bite down on her lip to quell the laughter threatening to give way. Just the sight of him in that hospital bed with the top hat on his head was enough to make her smile.

"Great. Now all I need is my cravat and proper clothes that don't open embarrassingly in the back." His eyebrows rose as he scrutinized her up and down. "So…did we win?" If we didn't, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't be here, Emma thought wryly. But she humored his curiosity.

"Are you kidding? We practically drove Regina into the ground after you forfeited the game," she assured him. Jefferson made a fist-pump of victory. "Belle is alive. Apparently, true love's kiss broke Gold…uh, Rumpelstiltskin's curse. And Regina is holed up in a cell several floors beneath your feet."

Jefferson nodded in time with every piece of good news. Peeling back the sheets, he observed his worn body and the sterile hospital room.

"Obviously I'm not in heaven," he concluded. "If this were heaven, there would be better food. This Jell-O jiggles worse than Regina after her Christmas parties," he quipped, poking a spork into the red glob of Jell-O on his tray. His face lit up as though he realized something spectacular. One of his hands dipped beneath the crisp white sheets to rub his chest. "The only way I could be alive right now after that bullet is by….magic."

Emma's deliberately down-turned gaze and tightened lips told him all he needed to know. He tossed his head back and groaned.

"You let that imp put his hands on me while I was out? Now, I feel personally violated. And in need of a hot bath."

He swiped at his chest as if he could rid his skin of eau de Rumpelstiltskin. Emma thought he was overreacting just a bit. It wasn't like Rumpelstiltskin would dare touch Jefferson with a ten-foot pole on any other occasion.

"It was either that or let you die," she argued. Hesitantly, she raked back her blonde hair from her forehead and took his hand. It was a big step for her, considering her comfort level. "There aren't many things in this world that can scare me. But you did tonight. Don't ever do that to me again."

She was unaware that a pearl of a tear had formed at the corner of her eye until his thumb brushed it away. And then her wall reconstructed itself and her face took on the hard-edged appearance that existed one too many times for Emma Swan. Regret flashed through his face, his muscles wincing.

"I couldn't let him obey Regina and kill her," he explained, his voice rising considerably. Longing and ache swam through her irises and he moaned. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Emma. Despite what you may think, I am not in love with Belle. But she is my best friend, if I ever had one. You'd do anything for your family, just as I would do anything for mine."

Emma nodded stiffly to show she understood to some degree. Truthfully, she was not terribly jealous of Jefferson's relationship with Belle. If anything, she considered Belle lucky to have someone who deeply cared for her well-being enough to take a bullet for her. After everything miserable that happened to the girl, she deserved it.

Just then, a pair of small footsteps sounded at the door. Emma turned around in her seat to see Henry and Grace standing in the doorway. In the hallway, Snow and Charming waited patiently with their backs to the door.

"Papa," Grace cried out and ran to Jefferson's bedside to embrace him warmly. The girl buried her head in her father's shoulder and murmured wishes of him getting better and questions of his "accident." Jefferson's hand slipped away from her cheek as he eagerly returned his daughter's hug and held her close.

Emma slowly rose from her chair, knowing that their moment was over. The least she could do was give him a moment alone with his daughter.

"Wait," Jefferson called out to her retreating back. When she glanced around, he was eyeing Grace with seriousness, an internal debate raging inside him. He gestured a palm to Emma invitingly. "Grace, I'd like you to meet a good friend of mine. Her name is Emma. She saved my life tonight."

Emma didn't think it'd be helpful to point out that it was technically Rumpelstiltskin who'd extracted the bullet from his wound and ensured his survival, even if she was the one to convince him to do so. Instead, she awkwardly gave the young girl a friendly smile. At least, she prayed it was friendly. It'd been a long time since Emma had a reason to smile at anyone.

"Nice to meet you, Emma," Grace kindly greeted. She even gave a little curtsy for good measure. It warmed Emma's heart, especially with the way Jefferson observed her so proudly. "You're Henry's mom, right?" Emma swallowed unnervingly, searching for the right words to say.

"Yes, I am," she confirmed and brought Henry into her arms to prove it. Her kid tilted his head back and grinned happily up at her. It was one of the first genuine times she had readily proclaimed herself as his mother and he would not let her forget it easily. Emma rested her head on top of Henry's and savored the comfort stemming from his hug. "Nice to meet you, Grace."

And Jefferson smiled.

…..

"Stop pulling away," Belle scolded the next time he hissed.

All she'd done so far was roll the sleeve of his dress shirt to his elbow and examined the slice in his arm. Regina had cut him sharply, stretching from his forearm to his elbow. Thankfully, it was not so deep that it would be a major problem. He hated hospitals almost as much as she did.

"It's not that serious, Belle. It's barely a nick," he insisted, trying to tug away from her grasp. Sitting beside him on the library's couch, she leaned back and pulled his arm closer into her lap. He wasn't going anywhere; she hung on like a stubborn child.

"You're just afraid of the medicine I'll put on it. It's perfectly normal, the fear of anticipation. But if we don't do this, it could get infected," she reminded him softly. On a table in front of her was a bowl of warm water, in which she gingerly submersed a hand-towel.

"Not if I use magic to heal it," he countered. But she would not allow him to depend on magic tonight. It wasn't because she disliked his use of magic at all, either. Underneath her eyelashes, she put on a pair of doe-eyes.

"You helped me tonight. Now it's my turn to help you. I am nursing this cut back to health and there is nothing you can say, Rumpelstiltskin, that will change my mind," she declared with finality. And so she pinned his arm to her lap and studied it as though she were a professional doctor.

There was absolutely no arguing with her. She was possibly the only person in this world or the next who could put him in his place so rapidly and leave him at a loss for words. Belle's passion could prove so great that there was simply no deterring her once her mind was made up. But he secretly admired that unexpected take-charge determination. As delicate as she initially seemed, her inner strength could rival that of Emma Swan.

Belle lifted the damp towel from the bowl and wrung it out. The moment the warm cloth touched his open wound, he hissed again and jerked back.

"That hurts," he growled, inspecting the wound carefully. Belle wasted no time in grabbing his hand back and held it down on her knee while she waited for him to stop resisting.

"If you'd hold still, it wouldn't hurt as much," she fired back without missing a beat. He opened his mouth to protest, but there was no further point to be made. Swallowing his pride, he forced himself to relax in her care and winced whenever the wound ached.

Belle was nearly an expert—she was patient as she dabbed and cleaned out the wound before carefully wrapping it in white gauze, making sure to tight it firmly but gently. She even undid the messy wrappings around his hand and made a low tsk-tsk at the grisly cut across his palm.

"Give me a break, dearie. It's been centuries since I treated my wounds the slow way. Normally, I would have it healed in moments until it was barely a paper-cut," he explained as she silently worked on his cut from earlier in the evening. Someone still needed to clean up the shards of glass, too. As she cleaned the cut, he bit his tongue—it stung terribly. "But you…you are excellent at this…sort of thing. As I figured you would be."

Belle cradled his hand in her lap. She did not respond vocally to his compliment, but that small smile—the one she saved especially for him alone—spoke volumes. She finished treating his palm, her fingertips dancing and exploring his skin. He closed his eyes to savor the feel of her hand pressing against his own. And then she patted it.

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" He extracted his hand and surveyed her handiwork. Not bad.

"Depends. Do I get a lollipop?" Belle laughed musically and rewarded him with something sweeter: a kiss on the lips. He moaned into it, though he did not pressure her further. "Mm…cherry."

Belle sighed with content and rested her head on his shoulder to watch the flames crackling in the fireplace. Her ears rang with the silence of the house now that all the guests had gone home for the night. Perhaps they could host another ball soon and enjoy it this time.

Or perhaps the two of them could stay in this moment forever, just like this, listening to the matching rhythm of their hearts. Rumpelstiltskin kissed the crown of her head and she knew he was thinking along the same lines.

"Now what?" She tilted her head back so that she could stare up at him wonderingly. His skin shone golden in the flicker of the flames, his brown eyes two thoughtful gems.

There were many plans to make in the wake of their engagement, but she sensed he was not concerned with any of it. The turmoil written on his face was too great. Lightly, she comfortingly squeezed his hand; the uninjured one.

"Now…I wish to find my son," he announced.

To Belle, it felt right and logical. He had strived to create a massive curse that would allow him access to another world for the purpose of reuniting with his son. It only made sense that he finished what he started. Deep down, she could not fault a man that would travel worlds for his child.

Inevitably, her thoughts shifted to her own father, who all but disowned her in learning about her true love. During Regina's torment, while she had experienced excruciating pain, she had thought of her father at least once. How he did not know she intended to marry and how her life might have ended with the two of them being on bitter terms.

"There's something I want to do as well," she started uneasily. Facing the challenge would not be so difficult, but what would Rumpelstiltskin think of it? He looked down to her and waited. The words nearly stuck to the roof of her mouth. "I want to tell my father about our engagement."

Instantly, his body stiffened beside her, his grip becoming a little too tight. A grim frown plagued his lips, but he did not ask her reasoning for the abrupt request. He knew her too well sometimes. No doubt some part of her would always be a mystery to him, but there were times he could read her like a book.

"Must you always give him chances?" He scowled unpleasantly and glared into the fire. "After everything that man has done to you…" She gripped his arm, making him look at her.

"Please? I think he should know. I want him to know that I can be happy," she pleaded.

For a long time, he narrowed his eyes disapprovingly toward the flames and refused to say a word. She knew he was thinking of all the harsh words her father had flung in her face before. She was sure he would not answer until he sighed in defeat.

"This will make you happy? If your father…unlikely…accepts it?" Belle did not like his sour outlook, but she nodded in answer. "Then, so be it." She weaved her fingers through his.

"And we'll do this together? We'll face it all together?" He willingly copied her gesture of weaving their hands and tried to smile positively. There would be plenty of challenges on their horizon, but still he disregarded it and absorbed the hope in her eyes.

"Together," he promised. And Rumpelstiltskin never broke his promises.

….

I think the last chapter had the most reviews of any throughout this story! I must thank you all for the wonderful support. Here's to aradiaeva, cheesyteal'c, LionshadeSC, Jennifer, Grace5231973, Lupa Eira, Drac1026, ImaginationEverything, megumisakura, Romance and Musicals, Cannot Say, MangaGrl2665, sbcarri, rene10, Linzerj, Stargate533, Gracounette, and SwanQueen4055.