A/N: So, I totally intended to have Regina and Jefferson in this chapter, and then I got distracted by the Smut Fairy, who is a needy little vixen. Apologies – they'll definitely be in the next chapter!

Kiri Huo Ziv, Twyla Mercedes, OneMagician, crazykat77, orthankg1, jewel415, karolprado, AngelOfMusic44, savinglives44 (x2), Lattelady, JosephineM, RaFire, ecinspired, deweymay, spacecats, mockorangeflower, Erik'sTrueAngel: thank you all for your comments and continued support. You're all incredible.


By the time Gold and Belle dressed and made their way downstairs, Ruby had already put some music on and was pouring gin and tonics.

"There's a drink here with your name on it, big boy!" she called, as Gold entered the kitchen. He shuddered delicately as she thrust a glass at him.

"Never call me that again," he said dryly, and she grinned.

"What's the matter? Is it a lie? My mistake, I'll come up with something more accurate."

He rolled his eyes at that, and took the glass of gin and tonic from her, moving to sit at the table and sip his drink in peace.

"I didn't cook," said Belle apologetically. "What do you guys want to eat?"

"Oh, let's just order pizza," said Emma, slurping her gin. She cocked an eyebrow at Belle. "So? Did you guys have a blazing fight and then spend the rest of the afternoon making up?"

"No," said Gold sharply. "Why would we have had a fight?"

Emma gave him a patient look. "Obvious, isn't it? You did something Belle's not happy with and she'll find out about it at some point. Given the fact that you were in bed when we arrived, I drew my own conclusions." She winked at him. Gold scowled, standing up.

"I'll leave you ladies to it," he said stiffly. "To forewarn you, Jefferson will be coming to stay tomorrow. I think it best."

He disappeared in a cloud of red mist, making them all gasp.

"Jefferson?" frowned Ruby. "What the hell's that about? Is he gonna be part of the spell?"

Belle was looking thoughtful. "I doubt it," she said. "There must be some reason, though." She started tapping her fingers against the rim of her glass, looking pensive. Ruby sought to distract her.

"Let's order the pizza," she said, digging in her pocket for her phone. Snow nudged Belle as Ruby started placing their order.

"I take it you didn't find out what he did," she said, and Belle frowned.

"Not really," she said. "Although he kind of admitted that he'd done something. He wouldn't tell me what, though." She chewed her lip thoughtfully, and shrugged. "Let's talk about something else."

"Did he manage to convince Regina?" asked Emma, and Belle nodded.

"Yes. He didn't really say much about that," she said, and Snow chuckled.

"Did you two talk at all while we were gone?" she asked, amused, and Belle frowned.

"Of course we did!" she said defensively. "Just – not very much." She joined in Snow's giggle, blushing slightly.

"So – Regina knows about Gold?" asked Emma. "About the curse?"

"I – don't know," admitted Belle, and Emma snorted.

"If not, I can't wait to see the look on her face!" she said, with satisfaction. "Make him do that thing where he appears in a cloud of smoke, see if he can make her scream."

"Were the two of you friends in your previous life?" asked Snow curiously, and Emma grimaced, taking a slurp of her drink.

"No one was really friends with her," she said. "She kind of held herself back a bit too much for anyone to get too friendly. But she knew what she was doing when it came to magic. She'll be useful to us."

"This is going to be interesting," mused Ruby, putting her phone down on the table. "I wonder what she'll make of Gold."

Emma snorted. "She'll recognise the Dark One, for sure," she said grimly. "I just hope she's willing to help Gold get rid of it."

"He offered her a deal," said Belle. "Midas killed her mother. She's wanted revenge ever since."

Emma wrinkled her nose. "You know, the more I hear about this guy the more I think Gold's right about him. Maybe we should let Regina kill him, if you're so determined that Gold doesn't do it."

Belle shrugged. "Regina's soul is her own affair," she said. "I need to think about his. Because he bloody won't." She sank into a chair with a sigh, rubbing her eyes.

"What's wrong?" asked Snow gently, and she shrugged.

"I'm a little worried about how much he seems to be enjoying himself," she said, biting her lip anxiously. "When he first got the curse, he was distraught. He remembers everything the Dark One did, and it really upset him. But the longer he has the curse…" She broke off, looking at each of them. "Do you notice anything? Am I freaking out for no reason?"

"He does seem to – kind of revel in his new power," admitted Ruby. "Is that what worries you? That maybe he won't want to get rid of it, when the time comes?"

Belle nodded. "Maybe I'm being stupid," she muttered, and the others shook their heads.

"It's totally not stupid," said Emma firmly, taking her hand. "Having that kind of power, having the memories of centuries of blood and violence – it's bound to change the guy. It's up to us to make sure it doesn't change him too much. It's up to us to break the damn curse once and for all."

Belle sighed, squeezing Emma's hand affectionately. "Well, at least now Regina's on board, we can make a start," she acknowledged, and took a drink. She decided to change the subject. "Did you guys choose the rooms you want?"

"Me and Snow'll share the one next to yours," said Emma. "Do us a favour and tell Gold to use magical soundproofing, okay?"

Belle reddened slightly as the others giggled.

"I'm in the one next to theirs," added Ruby. She suddenly looked horrified. "Oh God, don't tell me I have to bunk with Regina!"

"You could always bunk with Jefferson," said Snow slyly, and Ruby gave her a flat look.

"Yeah, 'cause that wouldn't be irritating. The guy has a worse reputation than I do."

"We have three spare bedrooms," said Belle. "Plus the couch. Take your pick."

Slightly mollified by that, Ruby nodded.

"Why d'you think Jefferson is coming to stay, if it isn't for the spell?" asked Snow, and Belle shrugged.

"I don't know. We should ask him."

"At least we know there'll never be a dull moment," said Emma dryly. "Although I'm not sure how much Jefferson my brain can handle. He's kind of in your face the whole time. I'm sure the guy should be on Ritalin. Or whatever the adult equivalent is. D'you know he hit on Graham once?"

The girls giggled, making noises of disbelief as Emma nodded.

"Seriously," she confirmed. "Graham didn't know what to do. He almost ended up as the next notch on Jefferson's bedpost. He said he'd never been so pleased to see Regina in his life."

"I think they'd be cute together," said Ruby mischievously, and squawked as Emma swatted her.


While Belle was enjoying girls' night with the others, Gold took himself off to his shop, where he had instructed Dover to leave him something. Appearing in the back room, and chuckling to himself at his mastery of the magic that coursed through him, he spied a large polystyrene box sitting on his work bench, approximately fifteen inches square. Lifting the lid, Gold peered inside, and grinned to himself. He went to his desk, sitting down at it to write a note. He debated over whether to write something threatening, or come up with a terrible pun, but in the end decided to be short and to the point. Scrawling the note with a flourish, he folded it carefully, and reached inside the box, fumbling with something before putting the lid back on.

Drumming his fingers on the lid, he frowned slightly as he considered his next move, and shrugged as he figured that there was no time like the present. Hefting the box in his arms, and casting an invisibility glamour, he disappeared from the basement, appearing in Midas's rooms. The room was empty, but as he couldn't be seen it wasn't an issue anyway. He could hear muffled sounds coming from the bedroom, and wrinkled his nose, hoping Ariel wasn't in there. He could smell one of the large men that had shown Smee in – Lance, he believed – standing outside the door to the corridor, but for the moment he was alone. He threw off the invisibility spell.

He stepped over to the polished teak table that took up a fair amount of space in the room, and placed the box carefully in the middle of it, frowning as he looked at it, an unrelieved cube of white, lacking his flair for the dramatic. Waving his hands, he conjured thick red paper around it, tied with a large black silk ribbon. Swallowing the urge to laugh again, he pulled back to the fireplace, made himself invisible once more, and proceeded to wait.

He was beginning to grow bored, and considered rearranging the furniture, just to see if Midas would notice, when the door to the bedroom opened and a slender black girl sauntered out in a gold sheath dress, a wide smile on her face, giggling as she picked up her high-heeled gold shoes from the floor. Her face lit up at the sight of the box on the table.

"Oh, hey, is this for me?" she purred, looking it over. Midas leant against the doorframe, tugging his golden robe tight around him. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the box.

"A moment, my dear," he said, and raised his voice. "Lance?"

The door to the corridor opened, and the man put his head through. "Sir?"

Midas gestured pointedly at the box. "Where did this come from, pray tell?"

Lance's brow crinkled, as though thinking was painful. "I never saw it before, sir. No one came past me."

"Really?" said Midas, with a touch of asperity. "So it just sneaked in here all by itself, did it? Have you left your post at any time this evening?"

"No, sir." Lance looked almost wounded at the suggestion, and Midas frowned for a moment. His expression cleared then, and he turned to the girl with a genial smile.

"Tamara, dear, why don't you open it?" he suggested kindly, and took several steps back as she bent over the ribbon eagerly. Gold bounced up and down on his toes in anticipation, his leather trousers creaking gently and making Midas frown and look around in puzzlement. Tamara tugged the bow open and ripped off the paper, her eyebrows raising slightly in puzzlement as she saw the polystyrene box. Biting her lip, she placed her hands flat against the sides of the lid and pulled it off, throwing it over her shoulder.

Her screams, when she looked in the box, were deafening, and Gold inserted a finger in his ear with a wince, grinning to himself as she fled from the room, pushing Lance out of the way as if he weighed no more than her. The man shouldered his way in, crossing quickly to the table to join Midas, who was already staring into the box.

Gold watched avidly as Midas seemed to swell with rage, a tide of red sweeping up his face. Gazing up at him out of the box was the head of the Ogre. A piece of paper had been neatly folded and placed in the dead man's mouth, and Midas's mouth twisted as he pulled it free, unfolding it with care. Two words, in Gold's slanting handwriting. Your Move. Midas's jaw flexed, his breathing growing heavy with wrath.

"Who could do this to the Ogre?" asked Lance, disbelievingly. "There must have been a whole bunch of 'em, sir."

"No," whispered Midas, shaking with anger. "No, it was Gold. I know it. Quite how he did it is a puzzle. And how did he know?" He began pacing up and down the room, quiet rage pouring from him. "No one knew of the Ogre's mission. No one knew I was targeting Gold. No one except Smee." His head jerked up suddenly. "And you."

Lance looked injured again. "Sir, I've been with you since I was a teenager."

Midas waved a dismissive hand. "I know, I know. I suspect Smee. The little rat's always had loyalty issues. Perhaps you could take care of him for me?"

"Consider it done," said Lance, grimly. Gold pulled a face. Well, that would be an exercise in futility. He almost wished he'd left a message for Midas in the pawn shop. Written in Smee's blood, perhaps. Or his entrails. That might have been fun. No matter. Midas would probably guess it was him anyway.

"That still leaves Gold." Midas was agitated, gesturing fiercely as he paced back and forth in front of Gold, his voice a snarl. "When I get my hands on his girl I'll make the son of a bitch watch before I shoot him in the balls!"

Gold couldn't contain himself. He drew back his hand and slapped Midas hard across the face, knocking him to the floor. The man rolled over, clutching his bleeding mouth and glaring at Lance.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" he snarled, and the big man backed away, hands in the air.

"Boss, I never touched you! You just fell over, I swear!"

Midas got to his feet slowly, eyes blazing with fury.

"Get out of here!" he hissed. "Get out before I lose another employee!"

Lance didn't need to be told twice, and shut the door behind him. Gold grinned to himself. His palm was stinging, but it was totally worth it.

Midas continued to storm up and down the room, muttering to himself, the sides of his gold robe swirling outwards and displaying rather more of his pale flesh than Gold wanted to see. He debated whether to leave him to his fury, but decided to stay and see what revenge he was planning. He didn't have long to wait. Midas seemed to reach a decision, fumbled in his desk drawer, wrenched open the door and stormed up the corridor to the Seer's room. Gold followed, enjoying himself.

Once inside, Midas took several deep breaths to calm himself.

"Ah, my Lord and Master returns." The Seer's voice, heavy with sarcasm, drifted through from behind the patterned curtains, and she swayed into view, dark eyes unblinking. She looked right at Gold, and he had the uncomfortable feeling that she could see him, although he was sure that was impossible.

"I've no time for your games," snapped Midas. "You told me Gold could be trusted."

"Perhaps you shouldn't have tried to have him killed," she offered, and Midas grimaced.

"He was poking his nose in where it didn't belong," he said. "Now he's killed one of my best operatives. That's cost me dearly. How the hell did he do it?" He started to pace again, back and forth, and the Seer slid into a chair at her round table of dark wood. The Tarot cards were stacked in their deck, and she picked them up and shuffled them as she watched her captor stomp across the floor.

"How?" he demanded, whirling to face her. "The Ogre was the toughest agent I had. He felt no pain! He should have been able to snap Gold like a fucking twig! Tell me how this happened!" He leant on the table forcefully, and the Seer put the cards down with a sigh, folding her hands in her lap. Her eyes became oddly unfocused, and Midas straightened up with a satisfied look.

"He felt pain," she said softly, her words slightly slurred. "In the end, he felt pain. Gold made him feel it."

"In the end?" Midas frowned. "Never mind the end, I know what happened there, Gold cut his fucking head off! How did he overpower him? How did he know I was sending him? How did he get that fucking box into my room with no one seeing?" Flecks of spittle flew from his mouth, and there was a look in his eyes, a look that Gold recognised well. Fear. Gold rubbed his hands together with glee.

The Seer shook her head. "That I cannot tell you," she said simply, and Midas let out a growl of frustration, beginning to pace again.

"Smee," he snarled. "Had to be. The little worm will wish for death by the time I'm finished with him. And as for Gold…" He ran a hand through his hair, agitated. "I'll need a new plan to deal with him, it seems."

The Seer stood, moving slowly from behind the table to stand close to Midas.

"Are you sure you want to be distracted by a man so far from here?" she purred, in the lilting, hypnotic voice she used when she wanted to be persuasive. "When you are so close to achieving everything you seek?"

Midas stopped pacing, and let out a breath. "Yes," he said, more calmly. "Perhaps you're right. Mr Gold is an annoyance, to be sure, but one has to consider the bigger picture."

The Seer's mouth spread in a slow smile, and she put a slender hand, bedecked with rings, on his arm.

"The portents will reveal themselves soon," she said soothingly. "You will have the power you seek."

Midas leant on the table, sighing. "Yes," he repeated. "I shall indeed."

He straightened up, barging out of the door, and Gold watched him go, turning back to the Seer with a smile as he threw off his glamour.

"Mischievous little imp, aren't you, Spinner?" she said, looking amused, and he swept her a bow, before disappearing in a puff of smoke.


The girls had a reasonably quiet night, for them, and although there had been drinks and dancing, girls' night was by no means the raucous affair it usually was. Partly this was due to Snow's influence; she had suggested, and the others had reluctantly agreed, that they needed their wits about them if they were to go about breaking the curse, and so there had been no frozen margaritas, no mixing of drinks, and they had switched from gin and tonic to tea by the time eleven rolled around. Emma, Ruby and Snow had gone up to bed not long after. After cleaning up in the kitchen, Belle made her way quietly down the stairs into the basement on bare feet, listening to the familiar rhythmic squeaking of Gold's spinning wheel. She spied him sitting with his back to her, the light shining softly on the black silk of his shirt and picking out gold and silver highlights in his hair. He was all in black today, his waistcoat damask silk, his leathers shining in the light from the lamp. Her stomach made a strange flipping motion as she looked him over, and she breathed deeply, flushing slightly as she recognised the direction of her thoughts.

"Enjoying the view, dearie?" he asked, with a note of amusement in his voice, and she felt herself blush more deeply. She thought she had been quiet.

"Maybe," she said boldly. "Are you coming to bed?"

"In a moment." He sounded distracted, and she approached slowly, wondering what held his attention. She gasped as she saw what he was doing. The yarn he usually produced from the wheel was gleaming in the light, and she hurried to his side and picked up the strand as it wound and curled into a pile at his feet.

"This is – this is…" she said, amazed, and he chuckled.

"It's gold, sweetheart," he said, clearly incredibly pleased with himself. "How about that? Perhaps you could fetch me some straw, let me see if I can make that work."

She shot him an amused look.

"I always knew you'd be Rumplestiltskin if we were in a fairy tale," she said, satisfied, and he laughed.

"Yes, I seem to remember you telling me as much on our first dinner date," he said, grinning at her. "Whoever would have thought it?"

Belle sniffed. "Well, having read the story, I never thought I'd want to sleep with him," she said teasingly, and he dropped his hands to his lap, looking at her intently.

"And now?" he asked softly, his too-large eyes uncertain. Belle smirked, and dropped the gold thread, straightening up and sashaying to the stairs, her hips swaying enticingly. She could feel his eyes on her back.

"Now," she said, in the most sultry voice she could muster, turning to look at him. "Now, I want you to take me upstairs and fuck me into the mattress."

He made a strange choking sound, his eyes widening in shock, before darkening with lust, and the tip of his tongue slipped out to wet his lips, making her stomach clench with anticipation.

"The wench grows bold," he said throatily, tossing the wool aside and getting to his feet in one sinuous movement. She felt her eyes widen a little, her lips parting as he moved closer, and she backed away to the steps, fumbling behind her for the rail. He was very close, his breath cool on her face, the warmth of his body reaching out to her, making her want to lean against him. She breathed in the smell of leather, of musk and spice and magic, and she let her hands slide around his waist as he bent to kiss her, his fingers cupping her soft cheeks. His tongue pushed into her mouth, tasting her as he pulled her against him. Belle let out a moan, tugging him close, enjoying the feel of him pressed hard against her belly. She pulled her mouth from his, kissing down his throat to where his shirt gaped at the top of his chest, making him growl with pleasure.

"The mattress, hmm?" he asked, his voice a low purr, and she gently sank her teeth into him.

"If you can soundproof the room," she said, the gin making her feel especially naughty. "I feel as though I might be very loud tonight."

She grinned at the shudder that ran through him, and his arms went around her, magic swirling around them as he took them from the basement to their bedroom. He waved a hand, and Belle felt, rather than saw, a pulse in the air, moving outwards from them towards the walls of the room. He grinned down at her.

"You could scream your heart out and no one would hear," he whispered, and she shivered with anticipation, clutching at the lapels of his black silk waistcoat and pulling him close.

"Then make me," she murmured, capturing his lips with hers.

He unbuttoned his waistcoat hurriedly, shrugging it from his shoulders and throwing it to the floor, his hands grasping at the zipper of her dress and pulling it down slowly. She gasped against his mouth as his cool hands slid inside the dress and over the smooth warm skin of her back. The kiss deepened as he moved his hands to her shoulders and pushed the dress down, exposing her breasts as it slipped down over her hips and fell to the floor. He flicked open her bra, letting that fall too, and stared at her for a long moment, watching her firm breasts rise and fall with her heaving breath, the nipples hardening in the cool air of the room.

"Beautiful," he said hoarsely, and lurched towards her, sucking her nipple into his mouth and making her arch her back with a cry. His tongue was hot and wet against her flesh, his hands moving down to cup her buttocks as she moaned and dug her fingers into his hair.

"Delicious," he whispered, his mouth trailing up from her breast to her throat, tongue swirling and teeth gently pinching. Belle cried out as he reached her ear, shivers running over her as he nibbled at her. His fingers slipped down over her hips, delicately pushing underneath the fine mesh of her panties. She gasped as he pushed them down, slowly revealing her to him, his fingers sliding around to cup her sex as the panties hit the floor with her other clothes.

"Oh, my Belle!" he breathed, and tugged at his shirt, pulling it out of his pants and wrenching it over his head, tossing it, forgotten, to the corner of the room. She ran eager hands over his gold-flecked skin, searching, teasing, her fingers plucking at his sensitive places, her mouth covering first one hardened nipple, then the other. He groaned aloud, arching his back, stretching and writhing with her touch, before catching her face in his hands and kissing her fiercely. The intensity of his touch made her head spin, made her gasp for air, and she was unsteady on her feet as he released her, as she stood naked before him.

"What do you want, dearie?" he breathed, his forehead pressed to hers, his breath becoming her own, filling her lungs as his scent filled her head. "Tell me. What was it you wanted?"

"You." She bit her lip, suddenly hesitant. She knew what he wanted her to say. She raised her eyes to his, surprisingly calm, and ran her tongue over her lips. "I want you to fuck me."

He growled in response, picking her up and throwing her onto the bed, and he pursued her, his boots and leathers banished with a flick of his wrist, the hard heat of him pressing against her thigh as his hands roved over her pale skin.

"So," he whispered, his mouth trailing a warm, wet path down over her breast. "You want me to fuck you, is that it, dearie?"

"Yes!" gasped Belle, trying to press herself against the thigh that was pushed between hers, desperate to relieve the ache in her loins. "Now. Please!"

His chuckle made her despair that her relief would come soon.

"All in good time," he murmured, and suckled on her nipple, his hair tickling her. "First I want to taste you, my Belle."

She moaned, her fingers scraping his scalp, and he moved down, kissing over her soft stomach, running his tongue along the crease of her thigh. He inhaled deeply as he drew near, the sweet musk of her sex driving him wild, making him want to take her fast and hard. He felt her tense as he breathed deeply, pulling some of the essence of her into him, before gently running his tongue along the seam between her legs. Belle whimpered, hands leaving his hair to grasp fistfuls of the sheets. He smiled, his tongue snaking out again to push between her folds, and she cried out, her hips bucking. He slid his hands up her inner thighs, pushing them apart deliberately, so that she was opened to him, and looked up at her hooded eyes with a wicked gleam in his own, before bending to taste her, his tongue pushing up inside her.

Belle moaned, pushing her hips up to meet him, throwing her head back as he gently probed her clit. His movements were slow, rhythmic and deliberate, building the heat and friction as she writhed beneath him. He looked up once, from where his head was buried between her thighs, and she was gazing at him in wonder, her eyes bright with lust. Smiling wickedly, he put the first two fingers of his right hand into his mouth, and drew them out slowly, watching her breath catch in her throat as he pushed them inside her. He bent his mouth to her again, his fingers slowly stroking in and out, and he felt her tense as the pressure began to build within her. His tongue moved in circles, his lips pulling at the tiny bud of her clit, her breath becoming higher, more desperate. Finally she rose up off the bed with sharp cries, her fingers sinking into his hair and holding him there, the rush of her fluids against his tongue making him groan with pleasure. She tasted like salted caramel, delicious, indulgent, and he swept his tongue all around her folds, wanting to swallow down every bit of her bliss.

Belle collapsed back onto the bed, gasping, her breathing laboured, and he chuckled to himself, raising himself up on his elbows.

"Well, well," he breathed. "And how was that, my sweet?"

"Amazing," she mumbled, pushing her hair out of her eyes. She held out her arms. "Please. Want you."

He kissed his way back up her, his mouth lingering on her breasts, the scent of her arousal clinging to him as he kissed up her neck to her mouth.

"You taste incredible, my beauty," he breathed. "And now I want to feel you. I want to know that your cunt feels every bit as good as it tastes." Belle groaned, writhing against him as he spoke filthy words to her, his voice a harsh whisper. "I want to feel you come around me when I fuck you." His lips trailed across her face, his tongue darting out to probe her ear. "I want to push my hard cock right up inside you and have you scream for me, only for me, are you listening, dearie?" He bit down on her neck, making her cry out, and she dragged her nails down over his shoulders, marking him.

"Do it!" she begged breathlessly. "Please!"

He positioned himself between her legs, both of them panting for breath, and after a moment's pause, thrust up inside her, his hands gripping her legs and pulling them up around him so that he was buried in her to the hilt. They both cried out at the feeling of it, the tight heat of her, the hot hardness of him, the warm stickiness of her fluids between them.

"So good!" gasped Belle, as he began to thrust against her, her nails scoring his skin, keeping him close. She crossed her ankles around his back, squeezing him within her and making him groan. He wouldn't last long, not like this. Not with her moaning and writhing and looking like a fucking goddess beneath him.

"Oh, Marcus, you feel amazing!"

No, he definitely wouldn't last long. He reached down between them to touch her, to try to bring her off so that he could come without embarrassment, and she almost growled at his touch, pressing herself up against his thumb as he moved in and out of her, the pad of his thumb swirling around her clit. She was nearing her peak again, her back starting to arch, her breath quickening, and he felt a strange sort of relief as she began to shout her pleasure, her hips bucking against his. He let himself come with a roar, feeling as though he was being pulled inside out through the balls, her sweet walls clamping around him and pulling his seed further within her.

He collapsed onto her, his chest heaving, his entire body shaking, and she moved her hands up and down his back sleepily.

"Incredible," she said drowsily, and he smiled against her sweet, damp skin.

"My pleasure, sweetheart," he murmured. She put her arms around him with a sigh.

"Our pleasure," she said dreamily. He pressed a gentle kiss to her brow, his fingers softly stroking the smooth skin of her cheeks.

"I love you so much, Belle," he whispered. "So much."

He kissed her gently, pulling back to press his forehead against hers. She looked up at him, touching his cheek, brushing his hair back from his face, and she suddenly felt a lump in her throat at the intensity in his eyes, as though she was his whole world.

"I love you, too," she said softly. "You're mine. My everything."

He kissed her again, deep and meaningful, and she felt him harden within her once more. He must have used magic to do that, to be ready for her so soon, but she didn't mind. He made love to her, slow and sweet, his touches pulling the pleasure from her until she was almost weeping in his arms, and finally he came inside her again, whispering his love for her, kissing her deeply before rolling onto his back and pulling her close. She nestled against his chest, breathing in his scent, warm and liquid and sated, her breathing slowing as she drifted towards sleep. She was loved. She was his.


He was already gone when she woke, and she wondered if he had slept at all, but she dragged herself out of bed, her limbs warm and heavy with sleep, a huge grin on her face that she couldn't seem to shake. She showered and dressed, hearing noises in the kitchen, and went downstairs to find the girls seated at the table, the kettle boiling.

"Coffee?" she offered, and they all turned to her with matching grins.

"You're looking suspiciously bright-eyed," remarked Emma. "I'm guessing you paid a visit to the basement when we all went to bed last night."

Belle was aware that she was still grinning like a loon, and turned away, scooping coffee into the pot and pouring on the boiling water.

"Maybe," she allowed, hearing snorts from behind her, and grinning more widely.

"Well, at least you sorted the soundproofing out," said Ruby. "I'd like to express my gratitude for that." She had turned on the TV, the morning news bulletin just beginning.

"Thanks Bellz," she said, smiling up at Belle as she poured coffee into their cups. "Anyone want pastries? I could make a run to Granny's…"

"I'll make pancakes," offered Belle, and there were sounds of appreciation from all the girls, making her grin. She put the coffee pot on the table and went to the refrigerator to get out the eggs and milk.

"Holy crap!" exclaimed Ruby, looking wide-eyed as she gazed at the TV. She turned up the volume. A brief shot of a pool of dried blood within a cage of wire mesh flashed up, before cutting back to an external shot of the reporter standing outside a shop bearing the sign Buccaneer Antiques.

"Police are baffled by the murder, believed to have been carried out within the last thirty-six hours," the reporter was saying. "A source confirmed that the dismembered body was found inside a locked cage, with the key still in the pocket of the victim. The brutality of this crime is too graphic to reveal in full in this bulletin, but the police have confirmed reports that the victim appears to have been skinned."

Belle clapped a hand to her mouth, eyes wide.

"Turn it off," she said thickly, and Ruby obeyed, looking worried.

"Belle?" asked Snow carefully, and Belle shook her head, swallowing hard to keep down her feelings of nausea.

"You think this was Gold?" Snow asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper, and Belle nodded, still looking as though she might be sick.

"I know it was," she sighed. "That pawnshop – the owner was the guy who told Midas about my father, and the necklace. That's how Midas knew to send men to him, to kill him. Marcus must have done this while he was in Boston." She pressed her hands to her belly, all thoughts of pancakes deserting her as she swallowed hard.

"So he killed him," reasoned Emma. "For that, or for something else?"

"Does it matter?" demanded Belle. "He didn't just kill this guy, he flayed him! And, from what they hinted at, cut him into pieces!" She shook her head, looking pale, her hands rubbing her stomach as though she was about to throw up.

"Are you unwell?" Gold's voice, from the kitchen doorway, made her turn slowly, and she raised her eyes to his, noting the look of concern on his face. That he could display the gentleness he did, that he could make her feel the way she had felt last night, and still commit such acts of horrific violence – she was having trouble getting her head around what he was, what he might have already become.

"Belle?" he asked uncertainly, and she shook her head, trying to clear it.

"What the hell did you do?" she breathed, and his eyes narrowed. "In Boston!" she snapped. "What the hell did you do?"

He folded his arms across his chest, closing himself off. The blue silk of his shirt shone against the brown leather of his waistcoat and pants. The colours suited him, she noticed vaguely. His eyes were darker than usual, and she suspected that he was angry. Well, so was she.

"I took care of some business," he said coldly, and Belle made a grab for the remote, flicking on the TV. The images appeared again, the blood-stained floor, the shop sign, the reporter droning on about the lack of a suspect.

"Did you do this?" she demanded, whirling to face him and he squared his jaw slightly, his eyes flashing. She took a step towards him, and took a deep breath, trying for a calmer tone. "Is this the business you were taking care of?" His mouth worked, reluctant to answer her, and she chewed on her lip. "Please, just tell me the truth! Did you do this?"

"Yes!" he hissed, his golden eyes glowing, and she swallowed hard, flicking off the TV again. She bit her lip in distress.

"So, I was right," she whispered. "Why did you do it?"

"He was a traitor!" he snapped, pushing himself away from the door and beginning to pace. "He deserved a traitor's death!"

"So – what?" asked Emma bluntly. "Hung, drawn and quartered?" Her eyes widened at the look he flashed her. "Seriously? That's what you did?"

"I considered castration and impalement, as the ancient Britons favoured, but there weren't any wooden stakes lying around," he said, with an ugly grin. "It seemed the most appropriate alternative."

Emma shook her head. "And you really flayed off his skin?"

"Well, there wasn't any rope," he said dismissively, waving a hand. "I needed something to hang the bastard with."

Snow put a hand to her mouth, her expression nauseated. Belle looked devastated.

"Why would you do that?" she whispered, and he scowled.

"Because he told Midas about you, which led to Nottingham coming here and kidnapping you," he snapped. "Because he wanted me dead so that he could take the contents of my shop. And lastly, because he told Midas about Jefferson working for me and going to the casino. Because of that, Midas decided he was going to kill me and take you for himself." His eyes flashed with anger. "I couldn't let that stand, Belle. He had to pay."

"But like this?" she said softly. "This – torture?"

She was looking at him, almost as though she didn't recognise him, her blue eyes dark with sorrow, and he lowered his gaze.

"I did it to protect you, Belle," he said more quietly. "To protect all of us. Even Jefferson. Midas sent someone to Storybrooke to find him, to – question him. Probably to kill him, once they got the information they wanted. I couldn't let that happen."

Her eyes widened. "So, there was more than one?"

His mouth dropped open slightly.

"What?" he asked weakly, and she swallowed hard.

"The pawnbroker. The body they found. That wasn't the only one, was it? You said Midas sent someone to Storybrooke. The other was in Boston. Who else did you kill?"

Emma nudged Ruby and Snow, and the three snuck out of the room quietly, leaving Belle and Gold alone. She was looking at him almost pleadingly.

"You killed someone here," she said. "In this town."

He seemed to wrestle with himself for a moment.

"Yes," he said quietly, and she swallowed hard.

"Who was it?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters!" She stepped forward, pressing her hands against his chest. Part of him was overjoyed that she still felt able to touch him. Another part of him cringed inwardly at the reaction he knew she would have.

"His name was Halvor," he said tonelessly. "He was known as the Ogre. Midas's enforcer. A brutal killer, who felt no pain, so was almost impossible to stop. Adept at torture and murder. He is no loss to this world, Belle." His mouth twisted as he said it.

"What did you do?" she whispered, and he grimaced, looking away from her.

"Why are you asking me this?" he snapped, stalling, and her fingers slid up to his shoulders.

"Please," she said imploringly. "Please, just be honest with me."

He sighed, bending to rest his forehead against hers momentarily.

"There was a problem in his brain – sort of – loose wiring," he said reluctantly. "That's why he felt no pain." He raised his head to look her in the eyes. "I fixed it."

Her lower lip trembled. "And then – then you tortured him."

"Yes." His voice was a low hiss. "I tortured him, I murdered him, and I had Dover feed his body to Professor Legrande's pigs!"

Belle straightened up, her mouth twisting in distaste, and he sighed, grasping her arms before she could pull away.

"Why are you doing this to yourself, Belle?" he asked roughly.

"Because I need to know that you're still in there," she said, and he could hear her voice begin to break. "What we've been through, what we shared, just last night… It can't all be him." Her eyes were pleading, full of hurt and fear. "It can't all be the Dark One. Tell me it isn't! Please, Marcus, tell me you're still in there!"

He sighed, letting his head droop, breathing in her delicate scent. He lifted a gentle finger to her cheek, brushing a curl of her dark hair back from her face.

"I'm still here, Belle," he said softly. "I just don't know how much of me is left."

He expected her to pull away from him in disgust, so was surprised when she put her arms around him and fell against his chest, hugging him tight as a few sobs wracked her. He held her close, pushing his nose into her soft curls and breathing her in, and wishing that he could banish her pain and fear with a wave of his hand, as easily as he changed his clothes.


A/N: Well, she had to find out sooner or later.

Thanks to RaFire, who gave me the idea for Gold slapping Midas while invisible. I just had to run with it!

Next time: Jefferson and Regina in da house! Promise!