The streetlamps reflected up and over her windshield as Belle drove through the town, heading to the Hatters house. She did not know what alarmed her more; the fact Emma had called her at nearly eleven o'clock at night or the sound of Emma's voice, as she urged Belle to come without telling anyone. There was not much care to her driving, as she powered around corners and skipped stop signs, when she was sure no one was around to see her. Her worry for them was greater than any care for her own wellbeing. She had not even bothered to get dress properly, choosing to pull on her old pair of sweatpants and slung her denim jacket on top of her nightie, while she shoved her bare feet into her sneakers. Belle had nearly tripped down the stairs of Grannies due to not tying the laces on her sneakers.

Belle turned into the driveway of the Hatters, her eyes fixed on the brightly lit house, kids littered the front lawn and shadows danced pass the windows. She parked the car and got out, scowling at the loud music and voices that polluted the night. Shoving her door shut, Belle wrapped her jacket around herself and made her way up to the house, looking from face to face to spot Emma or Albert in the crowd.

As she stepped onto the porch, some boys came piling out of the house, laughing and shoving one another. Belle jumped out of their way and held the door open with her arm, watching them disgracefully fall into a pile on the front lawn. Seeing their juvenile display, Belle was glad she had never gone to any parties in high school, especially if they had been anything like this. Her eyes were fix on the pile of boys as she ducked into the house and shook her head at them, closing the front door. When she turned away from the door, Belle did not know what was worst, the display outside or the idiots dancing on the dining room table.

The house was plagued with empty bottles and plastic cups. Belle could not take a step without kicking one or the other, sending it clattering across the wooden floor. Looking round at the state of the house as she entered the kitchen, she noticed the kids in this part of the house looked older than the majority outside. They may have even been seniors or older.

"Hello, pretty lady." A slurred voice said behind her. Belle twisted to see who was talking to her and found a kid leaning up against the fridge behind her, his eyes roaming down her body.

"Have you seen Albert Gold or Emma Nolan?" Belle asked him, ignoring the bottle of beer he was waving at her.

"Nope, but I've see you." He pointed his beer at her.

Rolling her eyes, Belle turned away from him and dodged her way through the kids that scattered around the room. She managed to get through the assault course of kids and out onto the patio, finding even more kids were loitering outside with a group of kids dancing on the other side of the swimming pool. Her head shook at the sight of all of them, disbelieving her future was in the hands of these degenerates.

A voice called to her. "Belle!"

Belle's head shot in the direction she heard Emma and dashed over to her, concerned by the look on Emma's face and the bloody rag she was holding against Albert's head. "What the hell happened?"

"One of the older boy's was chatting to me." Emma managed to say through her tears. "Al came over and asked if we could go, and the boy said I wasn't leaving. When I tried to go with Al, the other boy grabbed my wrist and stopped me."

As Emma was talking, Belle moved Emma's hand away from the bloody rag, so she could ease it off his head to have a look. "Al told him to let go or he'd make him. Then the boy let go of me, but when we went to walk away, the boy hit Al over the head with a bottle."

"I think it's going to need stitches." Belle said, wincing at the sight of his cut. "Bae, can you stand?"

"Yeah." Albert said quietly and unsteadily stood up from the chair. Pressing the bloody rag to his head, Belle hooked her arm around Albert with Emma taking hold of his other side. Together, they led him across the patio to go down the side of the house.

A shout from inside made Belle look through a window, cursing the idiots inside the house. They stumbled a couple of steps and came through an archway to the front of the house. There was more cheering and shouting as they walked down the driveway to Belle's car, where they helped Albert get into the back of the car.

Belle reversed out of the driveway and gave the house one more look before she drove off, heading back into town. She glanced into her rear view mirror to see Albert holding the bloody rag to his head, slumped into the corner of the back seat. Her temper quietly boiled within her, thinking if she ever got her hands on the kid that hurt Albert, she would give them a taste of their own medicine. With that thought in mind, Belle's hands tightened on the steering wheel, making her knuckles turn white.

She turned the car onto Emma's street and pulled up outside her house, saying. "Don't worry, Emma. Go and get some sleep. I'll let you know, how he's doing in the morning."

"Night, Al." Emma said in a sorrowful tone before turning to Belle. "Sorry, Belle."

"It's okay, Em." Belle said reaching over to squeeze Emma's hand. "It's what I'm here for."

Emma nodded her head and climbed out of the car, closing the door behind her. Belle waited and made sure Emma got into the house before she pulled away from the kerb, checking on Albert in her rear view mirror. He had not moved, still slumped into the corner with his head resting against the back of the seat. His stillness worried her until he cracked his eyes open to look out the window, quietly watching the houses go by. When she glanced in the mirror again to check on him, he was looking at her reflection in the mirror, crookedly smiling at her.

She was glad his house was not that far from Emma's, as she turned into his street and swung the car into the driveway behind Rumald's. Being face to face with his car made her apprehensive, but she ignored it as she got out of her car and helped Albert out of the back seat. This was not about them. It was about Albert.

They shuffled their way to the house and stumbled up the porch steps, leaving Belle out of breath as she lent him against the outside wall of the house. "Keys?"

Albert shoved his hand into his pocket and handed them over to Belle. She flicked quickly through the keys and found the key for the front door, and unlocked the door to shove it open. Belle tensed when the door banged against the wall, not wanting to wake Rumald, who must have been in bed as the house was in darkness. Slinging Albert's arm over her shoulders, she helped him into the house and quietly closed the front door. She tried to be quiet as she guided Albert into the kitchen, flicking on the light switch when they passed it, and sat him down at the breakfast table, but froze when Albert groaned at the jolt of dropping onto a chair. Listening, Belle waited for a second until she was sure they had not woken Rumald and then went to the counter to get some paper towels.

"Here," Belle said to Albert, holding the handful of paper towels towards him. "Pressed these to your head."

Albert took the paper towels and tossed the bloody rag onto the table, while Belle went to the kitchen sink and opened the cupboards to look underneath it. She spotted the first aid kit hidden behind some bottles of bleach and moved them aside to pull the kit out of the cupboard. Placing it down on the kitchen counter nearest the breakfast table, Belle opened it out and rummaged through it to find a stitch kit, which she laid onto the counter beside the first aid kit. She moved around the kitchen island and removed a bottle of whiskey from shelf underneath it, collecting more paper towels and her stitch kit as she went back to Albert.

After placing the items onto the table, Belle opened the bottle of whiskey and ripped open the stitch kit, saying to Albert. "First I'm going to clean it, Bae, and then I'm going to stitch it."

"'Kay." He mumbled, leaning down onto the table with his elbows. Belle went back into the kitchen and grabbed a bowl out of a cupboard. She ran the hot water for a minute until it was warm and then filled the bowl with it. Turning off the tap, Belle went to the seasoning rack next to the stove and grabbed the pot of salt to take back to Albert.

"I'm sorry, Belle." Albert said, as Belle sat down in the chair beside him, and sat back off the table.

"You've got nothing to be sorry about, sweetie." She told him with a smile, while she poured some salt into the water. Stirring it with her finger, Belle ripped some paper towels from the roll and dipped them into the salt solution she had made.

"Right, this might sting a little." Belle informed him, reaching up to remove the paper towels from his head. He dropped his hand to the table and let Belle remove it, angling his head to a better angle for her. Carefully she dabbed and wiped at the wound, finally able to see the inch gash that ran from his hairline down his forehead. She knew from the look of it, he was going to have a scar on his forehead. The thought of her Albert getting hurt made her blood boil again, but she concentrated on Albert as he hissed at his pain.

After cleaning it, it looked a lot better without all the blood over his forehead. She tossed the wet, bloody paper towels to the table as she stood up from her chair. Picking up the bottle of whiskey and some more paper towels, Belle moved to stand behind Albert, posed ready with her paper towels and bottle of whiskey.

"Bae, can you lean you head back as far as you can, please? I need to disinfect your wound." She explained, waiting for him to tilt his head back.

Albert leaned his head back and stopped, saying. "Oh… That makes me feel sick."

"That's okay. Just stay still." Belle said holding the paper towels under his head, ready to mop up the whiskey. "This will hurt, Bae."

"Just do it." Albert said with a heavy breath. Not giving him time to think about it, Belle poured the whiskey over his wound, grimacing at Albert's scream of pain. She also grimaced knowing it would wake Rumald as well. She put the bottle down and tried her best to wipe the whiskey out of his hair, bending over to kiss him gently on the top of his head.

Belle heard a door bang somewhere in the house, as she finished mopping the whiskey that had ran off the back of Albert's head. She dropped the wet paper towels to the pile on the table, while footsteps rumbled their way down the stairs. Sitting down in her hair chair again, Belle carefully angled Albert's head back down, positioning it so she could see his wound, whilst Rumald appeared in the opening to the entrance hall.

"What the hell!" Rumald shouted, panicked.

Albert groaned and held a hand to his head, as Belle took needle and thread from the stitch kit, saying. "Don't shout."

"What happened?" Rumald asked, surveying them and the items on the table, crossing from the opening to them.

"He got hit in the head with a bottle." Belle informed him and then said to Albert. "This is going to be uncomfortable."

"Wait! Stop!" Rumald commanded, grabbing hold of Belle's wrist that held the needle. "You can't stitch him. He needs to go to hospital."

Belle looked up at Rumald, trying to ignore how much she enjoyed him touching her. "He'll have to wait hours for them to stitch him. I can have this done in ten minutes." His grip on her wrist loosened. "If you want to be useful, go and make some tea."

"Okay." Rumald said distantly and let go of her wrist, but his touch lingered for a second or two longer than it needed. She bit her lip at the bereavement of losing his touch, when he took his hand away and went into the kitchen. Closing her eyes, Belle breathed in deeply and let it out as she opened her eyes and readied herself to stitch Albert's forehead.

As she carefully but firmly pushed the needle in and through Albert's skin, Albert clenched his eyes shut and his hands held onto her thighs, digging his fingers into her muscles. She ignored her own pain and got on with stitching him, while Rumald chinked and clanked things in the kitchen behind her. Her heart was beating so hard in the chest as she stitched Albert, thinking about Rumald's warm hand on her wrist, his tight grip holding her in place. The last time he had done that, they were having sex in his room upstairs, one hand pining her hands above her head as he clamped his other hand down on her mouth, muffling her cry.

Belle sighed the memory away and finished the last stitch in Albert's wound, so she could tie off the thread and cut the thread free from Albert's forehead. She put the needle and thread, and small scissors onto the table, as Rumald placed a steaming cup of tea next to her, plain with the tea bag in it, just how she liked it. Belle smiled her thanks to him, as he came around behind Albert to sit down next to him at the table.

"Right, I'm going to bandage your head, so you can hopefully get some sleep tonight." Belle told Albert, as she stood up to reach behind her for a bandage out of the first aid kit. "Take some aspirin or whatever you've got upstairs."

"I'll go and get you some." Rumald said getting up again to go back upstairs.

Belle opened the packet that held the bandage and moved to stand beside Albert, as he said. "Are you two going to talk now?"

"What?" Belle frowned at his question, as she started to wrap the bandage around his head.

"You two can talk now." Albert said quietly.

When she got to the end of the bandage, Belle picked the safety pin out of the packet the bandage had come in and pinned his bandage into place, saying. "I don't know, Bae. It's not really the…"

Albert grabbed one of her hands and pulled her down to face him. "Talk to him."

"Okay." She said rubbing her free hand over his shoulders, as Rumald came back down the stairs.

"Here, you go." Rumald said holding two pills in his hand out to Albert. Slowly Albert stood up, using his hold on Belle to help him, and let go of her to take the painkillers. They both watched as he moseyed off into the kitchen to get a glass of water, standing by the sink as he took the pills in one. Albert emptied his glass out into the sink and left it on the side, and came back over to Belle to hug her.

"Thank you, Belle." Albert mumbled and then left them alone, trudging his way up the stairs. While Rumald stood watching his son climb the stairs, Belle began tidying up the breakfast table, collecting the rubbish together to take over to the bin. She returned to the table as Rumald huffed down into a chair, placing his hands around his tea. Taking a seat as well, Belle screwed the lid back onto the whiskey and then she sipped her hot tea.

"What happened?" Rumald asked with his eyes cast down onto his tea.

"They were at a party." Belle answered, as she bobbed her teabag up and down in her cup.

Rumald's forehead scrunched down over his eyes, as he looked up at Belle. "They? He wasn't with you?"

"No," Belle said returning his frown. "I haven't seen him since I dropped him off here on Sunday night."

"He told me, you two were going to the movies and you'd gotten him a room at Grannies for the night." He told her, rubbing a hand over his forehead.

"Okay… Well, anyway, at least he's alright." Belle said trying not to delve into it too much and put Albert in more trouble.

Rumald dropped his hand onto the table. "Where was he then?"

"Rumald, he'll be okay. It doesn't matter where they were, just as long as they're okay." Belle tried to soothe his worry, but she knew if the tables were turned, she would already be out of the door, trying to find out what had happened to Albert.

"I have a right to know!" He growled, as his fingers clenched his cup. "I am his father!"

"I'm not saying you don't. Just leave it for tonight. Let him sleep and he will tell you in the morning." Belle advised him and drank her tea.

"Why didn't he ring me?" Rumald was becoming more agitated.

Belle clung desperately to her cup, fighting the urge to run round the table and hug him. "He didn't ring me."

"Then how did you know where he was then?" He asked, glaring at her across the table. Seeing him glare at her, made Belle go from wanting to comfort him to slapping the glare off his face.

"Emma called me." She told him, dabbing her teabag up and down in her cup.

Rumald shook his head forcefully. "She should have called me! I'm his father for heaven's sake!"

"Look, Rumald," Belle's tiredness and temper got the better of her. "If you want to blame someone, then blame me! I could have rung you and told you!" His eyebrows lifted from over his eyes and pushed up his forehead. "But how the hell am I supposed to be able to call you, when you're not even talking to me! You told me, you didn't even want to see me!"

"And when exactly have you done, what you've been told to do, hey?" He threw back at her, waving his hand showily through the air.

Belle closed her eyes and rubbed tiredly at her forehead, taking a moment to calm herself back down. She did not want to fight with him. She wanted to sit down and have a calm conversation with him, where they could sort out the mess between them. She did not want to be sat in his kitchen, in the middle of the night, arguing and saying things they would regret in the morning because they were tired. She just wanted him to hold her and tell her everything was going to be all right. For the last two weeks, that was all she wanted.

"I'm too tired to argue." Belle said dropping her hand onto the table and opened her eyes to look at him.

He shifted in his chair. "Okay."

"Look," She said standing up from her chair and crossed to the opening to the entrance hall, saying. "I probably should have rung you, but I was more concerned with getting to them. And I won't apologise for it, because I would do it again in a heartbeat when it comes to Bae."

"I know." He whispered with his head hanging low.

"The same goes for you as well, ya know?" Belle wrapped her denim jacket tightly around herself, feeling a chill up her back. "No matter what my father told you, I care for you more than anything, Rumald. I…" She stuttered, which made him slightly twist his head to listen to her. "I love you."

Even from that angle, Belle could see him close his eyes at the words, but he remained silent. The longer the words were left in the air between them, the more Belle felt uncomfortable. A house she had always felt welcomed in, suddenly began to swamp her and put pressure on her chest. Her breath caught in her chest, as she waited for a response from him, any kind of response, whether it was noise or a return of the affection. It seemed lost on him, as he pressed his hands over his face with his shoulder's tensing.

She scratched at her forehead to distract her mind into working, which told her to get out of there. Her heart argued for her to stay and wait, but the voice in her head won as Belle spun round to the front door and swung it open to slam it behind her. The voice in her head began to belittle her, as she ran down the steps of the porch and jogged over to her car. It was telling her, how she was stupid to think he felt the same. She was stupid to think they were special. That they were one of a kind. She was stupid to think it was true love. She was stupid to even think he was her soul mate, the half that made her whole.

Forcefully shutting her car door, Belle made the car rock from the force as she covered her face as her tears poured out of her eyes. She did not know why she said it. It just came out. Probably tiredness had done it. However, it did not stop the hurt from the rejection she felt or even served to numb it.

Sniffling back some tears, she managed to get herself together enough to start her car. She avoided looking at the house and reversed out of his driveway, taking off down the road before she had a chance to peek at the house as she drove by. Furiously wiping at her cheeks, she used the sleeve of her denim jacket to wipe the wetness from her cheeks, driving the quiet streets back to Grannies. She knew though, as she drove down the main street through Storybrooke, she would always love him.