Chapter Fifty-Four—"Choosing Sides"
Belle came back in a few minutes after Emma and then Whale left, and her smile was enough to bring back his good humor. Rumplestiltskin wasn't angry, not exactly, after his conversation with Emma. Frustration was a more proper word for how he felt; he'd said far more than he meant to, and the Savior still didn't believe. He was beginning to understand Regina's continual exasperation. Her niece remained annoyingly skeptical, but Rumplestiltskin's job was not to convince her of the truth. Emma had Regina and Henry to do that for her, and if he knew his wife, Belle would probably want to throw her hat in that ring as well. He'd try to stop her, of course. Although Cora knew he remembered, she knew nothing about Belle, and the longer Rumplestiltskin could keep the mayor in the dark where his family was concerned, the better. He was also not about to come out and openly support Emma, particularly not where Cora might hear him do so. Her caveats still had enough control over him to make him dangerous, and though Rumplestiltskin was fairly certain Cora would be wary of him now that there was magic, well, he wasn't going to place any bets on that at the moment. After all, learning he remembered hadn't stopped her at all.
"You've got your plotting face on," Belle chided him gently, taking his hand as she sat down on the bed next to him.
"Hm," Rumplestiltskin snorted, and then gestured vaguely at the door. "Our Savior remains the stubborn type. Regina showed her magic, and still she doubts."
"Well, you never did think this would be easy," she reminded him, smiling slightly.
"No, but I didn't think it would be this hard, either," he complained, allowing himself to show something other than the perfectly controlled exterior he displayed for the world. Even after so long married to Belle, Rumplestiltskin often had to remind himself to let her in, but she'd more than earned that over the years.
Not to mention the way that she brought magic here to save my life, he thought to himself, squeezing her hand.
"Poor Rumple," Belle teased him with a smirk. "Do you think you might have to do a little work to get what you want? That's so horrible!"
"Oh, shut up," he groused, but he couldn't help the smile that tugged on his lips. Belle certainly knew how to charm him out of a temper. "I love you," he said instead of grouching further.
Her grin lit up the room. "I know."
Belle leaned in to kiss him, and for a moment, Rumplestiltskin wanted to take the coward's way out and not discuss the matter Emma had brought up. In fact, doing so would probably be smarter, and besides, it wasn't like they had a lot of choices. He didn't need to bother Belle with this, after all. She had enough to worry about already, particularly since both men in question still thought she was Lacey, and she was already stuck right in the middle of this mess. The curse would probably be broken before any trials could actually be held, and—
A finger touched his nose lightly. "What are you thinking?"
"Nothing important," Rumplestiltskin answered too quickly, and now Belle frowned. Frowning slightly, she cocked her head at him, giving him what Rumplestiltskin had always termed 'the Look' inside his own mind.
"Rumple."
Sighing, he caved before she could get more upset. Him being here in the hospital had been hard enough on her, and Rumplestiltskin knew that the way his curse was whispering for him to keep his secrets secret meant that keeping his mouth shut was the wrong decision. So, he admitted: "Miss Swan asked if I intended to press charges against your father and your former fiancé."
"And?" Belle looked tense, and he knew why. But that knowledge, or his love for her, still didn't keep his voice from growing a little sharp.
"Well, I can't very well not, sweetheart," Rumplestiltskin snapped more peevishly than he intended to, hating the situation and the helplessness he had felt that he would never, ever forget. "And even if I could, I'm not feeling particularly charitable in their direction at the moment. For obvious reasons."
"I'm not saying they were right—" his wife started to object, but he cut her off viciously.
"I'd hope not," he snarled.
"Rumple," she repeated, blue eyes looking more worried than frustrated, but he couldn't stop himself from pulling away when she reached for his hand, memories rolling nonstop through his mind. Ever since he'd become the Dark One, no one had dared touch him like that, had dared lay a hand on him in such a brutal fashion. Cora's entirely-too-personal assaults were horrible enough to frighten him, but this last beating just infuriated him, reminding him of the village coward he'd once been and how it felt to be absolutely helpless. He hated that feeling, had promised himself that he would never feel like that again once he had power. Even without magic, even under the curse in Storybrooke, Mr. Gold had been far too powerful for anyone to touch him like that, until Moe French and Tony Rose had dared.
Raging inside, Rumplestiltskin ignored Belle's attempts to reach out, staring stonily at the far wall and listening to his curse's furious whispers. Kill them. They've invalidated your deal. You promised safety from the ogres, not from your own justified vengeance. Rumplestiltskin hadn't burned with such personal and immediate rage like this for years. Even what he felt towards Cora was a strategist's fury; he knew he needed her, and could afford to leave her be for now. She would pay later, and dearly at that. But Moe and Tony were insignificant. He didn't need them, and with magic, he could kill them with the flick of a finger. There wouldn't even be any incriminating evidence to hide, and so what if Cora knew he had to be responsible? She wouldn't be able to prove it, and in this neat little world, proof meant everything. Just go ahead, his curse whispered, bringing up memories of older beatings, of Hordor and the others. Women don't like being married to cowards, the soldier had said more than once. You know you want to, his curse added.
"Rumplestiltskin." This time, Belle managed to grab his right hand in her left, and her right hand gently touched his cheek until he turned to face her.
"You should press charges," she said softly. "I love my father, but he has no excuse for what he did. Neither does Gaston." Leaning in, Belle kissed him very gently, and Rumplestiltskin felt the soft echo of power in his mind, True Love calling to him and calming his rage. It was nothing like the explosion of magic when she'd almost broken his curse, not here in this world, but it still helped him center himself, helped separate man from Dark One. "I love you. I'm on your side. Don't lock me out."
"I love you, too," he whispered raggedly, struggling to push the horrible memory of helplessness aside. I made a promise, he thought desperately, swallowing back rage and terror. Dark humor rose up to replace them, because it was the refuge he'd always sought when he couldn't cope. "I should have left him as a rose."
His grumble made Belle giggle. "Probably."
See? Rumplestiltskin told his curse a bit peevishly. She is on my side. Belle kissed him again, her hands carefully avoiding the still-healing incisions from his all too recent surgery, and this time the kiss was an unspoken promise they both understood. He'd be able to go home tomorrow and finish healing himself, at least physically, and Rumplestiltskin knew that Belle would help him put the rest of the pieces of himself together, too. Perhaps he was weak, perhaps he would always be the coward he'd been, but at least he knew that he had her. He needed her so desperately, particularly in moments like this when his sanity wanted to shred, and Rumplestiltskin was more than ready to leave this place. Tomorrow, he thought, holding onto the word like it was a lifeline. Tomorrow.
1 Year Before the Curse
Six months after the Cyan Fairy had tried to kidnap their daughter, Belle still sometimes struggled with her guilt over that affair. Intellectually, she knew that she'd done the right thing when she'd agreed that the fairy needed to die to protect Gabrielle, but there were still days that she had a hard time forgiving herself for that. She didn't like killing, and although she knew that her husband was hardly free of culpability in that respect, Belle tried to encourage him to be better, to fight back the horrible curse inside him. Usually, he at least managed to try for her, but every now and then she wondered if she had any right to ask him to when she had agreed that killing a fairy was the right thing to do.
Fortunately, she was mostly past those worries, although her own guilt on that front had led her to approach her father once more. Rumplestiltskin hadn't been particularly pleased with her sudden desire to visit her old home, and he'd tried to talk her out of it, but Belle had refused to budge. Instead, she'd asked him to take her there, via magic, so that he could fetch her away in a hurry if anything went wrong. Belle had made Rumple promise not to make himself invisible and eavesdrop, either. She trusted her husband to keep his promise, and under other circumstances, she would have wanted him there, but she already knew how well his last conversation with her father had gone two and a half years earlier. So, now she squared her shoulders and walked into her father's war room/study on her own, having been dropped off in a quiet corner where no one could notice her husband squeezing her hand.
Sir Maurice was alone when Belle walked in, and didn't even seem to notice her presence until she cleared her throat. Then his head jerked up and his eyes went almost comically wide, staring at her as if he had never expected to see her again.
Then again, given what Rumple told me about their conversation last time, I suppose he didn't, Belle thought to herself, fighting the urge to bite her lip like the little girl she'd once been. This was her childhood home. She didn't need to be nervous.
"Hello, Father," she said quietly, not sure if she felt like she could call him 'papa' anymore. Once, they'd been so close, but the way he'd ignored years' worth of letters and then told her husband that he'd written her off as dead did tend to change things. This wouldn't happen if Mother was alive, she knew, but Belle forced that knowledge aside. She had to live in the present.
"…Belle?" Sir Maurice gasped, getting up out of his chair too quickly and then stumbling. He rushed to her without a further word, and Belle found herself swept up into a hug.
"It's me," she managed to say, returning his hug tightly. Oh, she'd missed her papa, missed him and home terribly. Belle hadn't given up hope that Maurice would reconcile himself to her marriage, would meet Gabi, and that they'd be able to be a family again. His reaction to her presence gave her further hope. Maybe Rumple just rubbed him wrong. Sometimes he's too good at that, she thought, drawing back with a smile when Maurice released her, his hands still on her shoulders.
"Oh, darling, it's so good to see you," Maurice replied immediately, smiling hugely. "You managed to escape! You must tell me how."
"What?" the question made Belle blink in confusion, staring up at her father.
"Sweetheart, you've been the Dark One's prisoner for four years. I never believed those letters were the truth. I know he must have hurt you terribly, but we'll get you all the help you need," her father promised, his eyes shining with tears. Maurice touched Belle's face, and although she was grateful for the compassion he showed, she continued to stare at him with a puzzled look on her face. "Your bravery has inspired us all. I cannot begin to imagine what you've gone through because of that beast."
"He's never hurt me," Belle objected after she managed to wrap her mind around the picture her father was painting. "And every letter I wrote you, every letter you didn't read, was from me and me alone."
"Of course you have to say that. I—"
"No, I don't have to say that!" she cut him off, pulling back a little so that she could look him directly in the eyes. "Father, please, listen to me. I know that I went with Rumplestiltskin because of that deal, but it's become so much more than that. I love him, and he loves me. We're married."
"That's not possible."
"It is. Papa…" Belle trailed off, trying the old name for her father on for size and finding that it felt awkward when he was staring at her with such disbelief. "I know Rumple told you that when he came."
"Rumple?" her father echoed, sounding dubious and perhaps a little disgusted.
Shrugging, Belle felt a slight smile creep onto her face despite Maurice's expression. "Rumplestiltskin," she corrected herself, stepping forward to take her father's hands. "He's my husband, and I love him. It might not have started out conventionally, but we're happy together, and I want you to know that. I want…I want to be a part of your life again."
Belle did bite her lip nervously after saying that last sentence, not liking the look her father was still wearing. She'd known this wouldn't be easy, that he'd have a hard time accepting this, particularly since he still continued to burn her letters, but Belle still hoped that he would come around. I should have done this sooner, she thought to herself. I should have made time to come home and talk to him. Perhaps if she had, Maurice would have taken the news better. But Belle was determined not to mention Gabrielle until her father at least understood that she was in no danger and had married Rumplestiltskin by choice.
"You can't have married that beast, Belle," Maurice finally said, his voice shaking with rage. Looking at the revulsion on his face made Belle square her shoulders and bring her chin up.
"I sent Gaston to you with word of our wedding," she reminded her father. "And with an invitation that you never saw fit to even respond to."
"Because I knew you were being forced!"
"No one forced me to marry him," Belle replied as calmly as she could. "Just like no one made me go with him to save our people. I made my own choices."
The reminder seemed to fly wide of the mark. "Sweetheart, we all see you as a hero for saving our people, but you deserve so much better than a monster defiling you. He—"
"Is my husband. And I love him."
He wasn't listening. He wasn't listening at all, and Belle didn't know what else to tell her father other than the truth. Should she mention the fact that he was a grandfather and hope that might get through to him? Perhaps knowing that Gabrielle existed might make Maurice think twice about being so pigheaded, particularly once he saw her and realized that his granddaughter was fully human. Yet the look on her father's face was only growing increasingly horrified and twice as stubborn, and Belle knew him well enough to know that she had to somehow break through to him. Sometimes surprises did that. She and Rumplestiltskin had discussed telling him about Gabrielle later, but should Belle take a chance and do it earlier than they had planned?
"I'm sure he's enchanted you to believe that, sweetheart," Maurice said next, and Belle actually snorted.
"You can't use magic to make someone fall in love," she replied, trying not to roll her eyes at her father. Belle had known that about magic for years from her reading. How could her father not understand that?
"Then he's done something to you. I don't know what, but he's done something," her father said desperately, and part of Belle's heart broke for him. He looked so worried. How could she reassure him?
"He hasn't—" she started, only to be interrupted by Maurice's continued babbling.
"The clerics can cure it. Whatever it is. Bishop Chesson can help you. I know that the clerics can cleanse you of this enchantment and then you'll be all right. They cannot remove the way he has tainted you, but they can scrub the darkness from your soul. Everything will be fine once we cure you."
"What?"
"We'll take you to the clerics," Maurice decided, reaching out to take Belle by the arm. "They'll help you, sweetheart."
"No!" Belle jerked away, or tried to, but her father managed to hold onto her right arm. Tears gathered in her eyes, but she fought them back, struggling to be rational. "I don't need curing. I'm married to a man I love. Can't you put aside your prejudices for one moment and be happy for me?"
"That's the enchantment talking." Her father reached out to take her by the other arm, too, but Belle finally managed to twist away.
"I'm not enchanted!"
"Belle, it's not your fault, but this must be done. Now, I'm your father, and you will obey me," he said next, and now she felt the tears start to trickle down her cheeks. "I will send for the clerics and everything will be all right."
"No, you won't." Belle took another step away from him, her heart tied up in a knot. Swallowing hard, she whispered: "Rumplestiltskin."
There was a difference between saying his name and calling for him, and Belle knew that better than most. Oh, Rumplestiltskin could hear someone saying his name, and sometimes enjoyed showing up just to scare the wits out of people who dared say it too often, but he always knew when someone actually wanted him to come. Besides, he was already listening for her call, since they'd talked about what might happen if things went wrong. Or right.
He was by her side almost before she'd finished speaking the last syllable, gentle hands on each elbow and an arm wrapped loosely around her waist. Feeling his light touch made some of the tension eek out of her, although none of the pain at having her father say such things to her vanished. "You called, sweetheart?"
"Yes." Belle nodded, blinking the tears away to clear her vision. "I think it's time we went home. I'm obviously not wanted here."
"Belle, I want you here," Maurice objected hurriedly, staring at Rumplestiltskin with wide eyes.
"You just want me on your terms," she told him sadly. "No one decides my fate but me, Father. This is my life, and I'm not going to let you hand me over to clerics just because you don't like my choices."
The moment those words were out of her mouth, Belle knew that she shouldn't have mentioned the clerics. Her husband had never told her why he hated the Holy Order so much, but Belle that knew he did, and there was nothing as certain to get his temper up as the thought of clerics coming for a member of his family.
"You're going to what?" Rumplestiltskin hissed immediately.
"You stay out of this, demon!"
Belle felt Rumplestiltskin start forward before he even began to respond, and she turned quickly to grab his arm. "Let's go home, Rumple."
She could see him hesitate, could see the rage dancing in her husband's eyes, but Belle squeezed his arm with both hands.
"Please," she whispered. "I don't want to be here anymore. And my father clearly doesn't want me, either."
Rumplestiltskin nodded tightly, and his magic twisted around her and swept them away. They landed in the great hall of the dark castle, and Rumplestiltskin's arms wrapped around her immediately. Belle just leaned into his embrace, needing desperately to be held after what her father had said. Tainted. Defiled. Enchanted. He didn't believe her. He didn't trust her. And she was afraid that she'd lost her father forever.
Twenty-nine years later, Belle approached her father once more, but this time without any hopes or expectations that the meeting would go well. She'd come to the Sheriff's Station out of a sense of obligation, but that was it. Moe French had made his feelings about Lacey plain enough, just has her father had to Belle before the curse. Neither of them trusted her to make her own choices; it was sad how Cora's curse had preserved that much about her father. He still wanted to see her as some innocent victim of a terrible beast, and not the woman who saw through the beast to something better. But she refused to be heartbroken about that. She just wanted to check up on him.
And maybe get a few answers.
"If you need anythin', darling, anything at all, you just let me know," Keith leered, and Belle so wished that Emma had been present, or even the other deputy, Gary. But at least Keith was keeping his distance after she'd kneed him a few days earlier. He wasn't quite drooling on her, after all, and that was quite the improvement.
"I'll be sure to do that," she replied, rolling her eyes and stepping towards the two cells. Her father was in one and Tony was in the other, but both perked up when she walked in.
"Lacey," her father greeted her, standing up from where he sat on the cot with a stupidly welcoming smile on his face. "I'm so glad you're here."
"I'm not," Belle said honestly, stopping where she could see in both cells. Tony had risen, too, and both men stepped forward, looking at her eagerly as if they expected praise for what they had done. She didn't really want to listen to their excuses, either, but she had to know. Maybe there's something else going on. Maybe there's something I don't know. She made a mental note to ask Rumple if Cora could have straight up forced them both to attack her husband, but Belle knew in her heart what the answer to that question was. The curse wasn't that powerful, so she squared her shoulders and continued: "What did you think you were doing?"
"We were trying to help you," her father replied earnestly. "You obviously couldn't get away from Gold, so we—"
"So you almost killed him?" she cut in, unable to listen to that line of reasoning despite her resolve to be calm.
"Sweetheart, the sheriff says he'll be fine in the long run," Moe said, and was that a flicker of disappointment in his eyes? Tony definitely didn't look happy to hear that.
"Fine. So, that makes everything better, does it?" Belle growled. "You attacked a crippled man and intentionally targeted his already damaged leg. That's so brave of you."
She shouldn't sneer at them like this, but Belle had had it with these two men—one of whom had no claim on her whatsoever!—trying to run her life. She had made her choice, and had saved both of them from the ogres. Her father should be glad that she found happiness in that, not try to crush her family instead.
"Lacey…" Tony started to say, and then trailed off.
She turned to look at the man she'd once been promised to, in this world and in the last. "What?"
"You should be grateful," he grumbled. "You can leave him now. You already should have."
"I don't want to leave him, Tony," Belle explained as patiently as she could, and then turned to look her father in the eyes. "I told you both before: I am happy. I'm not leaving Gold. I love him, and don't you dare try to interfere in our lives again."
"Sweetheart, he's a monster!" her father objected.
"Right now, Papa, you're the one acting like a monster," she spat back. "And until you can treat me like an adult who makes my own choices, I don't want to see either of you again. Even if you do get out of here. Just leave me alone."
They both objected, and both called her name, but Belle turned on her heel and walked out, refusing to listen. She loved her father, and she even thought fondly of Tony (more so than Gaston, truth be told), but she couldn't do this anymore. She had to make a choice, and they had made it for her by hurting her husband like that.
He might have died without magic, Belle didn't tell them as she saw herself out of the Sheriff's Station. So much for this world being a better one.
"You haven't been very useful, have you, dear?" Cora asked sweetly, and watched the puppet spin to face her. Of course, his wooden leg didn't quite support that motion very well, making his sway precariously, but that only made her suppress a slight smile. There was magic here, which meant that Pinocchio's body should work well enough, but the half-human, half-puppet form he was currently in would hamper him significantly. She was also willing to bet that it was very uncomfortable.
August's eyes were huge as he stared at her, and Cora had to wonder if he had even heard her coming. Perhaps he'd been too engrossed in his dejected walk around the park. Snow was crunching underfoot, and the wind was whipping nastily. It wasn't weather that any sane person would be out in, but Cora hardly cared. And obviously, the wooden puppet had walked out here to be alone. Not that she cared what he wanted.
"I'm trying to do what you want," the puppet objected weakly, staring at her. "Emma is…difficult."
"Do I look like someone who cares about your problems?" Cora asked him, genuinely curious to see what he would say. After all, Pinocchio had been a boy in the Enchanted Forest in the years leading up to the Dark Curse. He must have heard of her reputation, and did he really think that Cora cared about him? He was a tool, and she was the Evil Queen.
If her magic had been working properly—which was still not the case—Cora would have added August's heart to her collection. After all, she hated trusting blackmail and intimidation when she could simply hold someone's heart. But her magic still refused to work in this annoying love-based magic world that Rumple had turned Storybrooke into, so she was stuck with her previous methods.
"No," August said quietly, shifting uncomfortably. Cora smiled.
"Well, now that we have those pleasantries out of the way, I thought we should chat," she purred, gesturing the puppet into step beside her. He obeyed reluctantly, watching her warily and appearing to wonder when she was going to turn him into something nasty.
He swallowed audibly. "Of course."
"Well then, let's talk about your lack of progress with our dear sheriff," she smiled. "You've hardly found out anything about her plans."
"That's because she doesn't have plans," August retorted bitterly. "She doesn't believe in any of it. She just wants to be the sheriff, not break the curse."
Now that was good news. Still, Cora did not permit herself to smile too much; she allowed the barest twitch of glee to touch her lips and cocked her head at the limping puppet.
"Is that so?" she pressed, wondering if Pinocchio was trying to protect Eva's odious granddaughter, the girl that he had been supposed to protect when they were both small. But the way August flinched told Cora all she needed to know.
"Look, she's still focused on the florist and his friend beating Gold," August groaned, reaching down to rub his leg as they walked past the frozen pond. "Between that and wanting to know about the Basement, she doesn't seem to care about much else."
"Good. But you will keep an eye on her, you understand?"
August grimaced. "Can't you get someone else to do your dirty work?"
"Are you backing out of our deal, Pinocchio, dear?" Cora asked softly. She didn't have to inject a threat in her voice. It was obvious.
"I'm not stupid."
Aren't you? "I would hate to think you were," she replied with a shrug. "Particularly because, with magic here, I can cure you of your little…affliction."
That brought him up short, and August stumbled to a stop, swinging to face Cora with hope filling his blue eyes. His words were a whisper, breathless and hesitant: "There's magic here?"
"Oh, yes."
"How?" August demanded, and Cora wanted to giggle like a little girl. Oh, the hope in his expression was delicious, and his despair would taste even better when she strung him along the way she intended. You should have paid more attention to the stories your papa told you, Pinocchio. The Evil Queen is not to be trusted, she thought gleefully.
"Rumplestiltskin, of course." Let him chew on that one, thinking that Rumple was Cora's ally, or even in her service. "He's always been clever."
"The Dark One"—August's voice cracked, and oh, watching him swallow was quite wonderful—"is awake?"
"Certainly. But we're not here to talk about him," Cora replied, snatching that little bit of information away when she saw something sparking in his eyes. "What we are here to talk about is how you're going to continue to track the Savior and report back to me. Because if you earn it, I will help you."
"What's to keep me from going to the Dark One and making a deal instead?" the writer demanded, and Cora had to admit she was surprised by his quick thinking. Perhaps she should not have told him that Rumplestiltskin remembered who he was. Still, she knew how to counter that argument, and besides, she had not told him who Rumple was.
"Because if you do, your beloved papa will suffer the consequences," she said simply.
That made August flinch, and Cora smile. He said nothing, but she could see him thinking, could see him trying to figure out a way around this. He'd learn, of course. August would try to get around her restrictions, but Cora already had a demonstration lined up, just to prove to him that he could not. He was hers now, as surely as if she had his heart in her hand. And maybe she would cut the magical strings that bound him. If he earned it.
A/N: So, August is trying to resist Cora—but do you think he'll manage, or will he buckle under the pressure? And do you think Belle is right to distance herself from her father now?
Next: Chapter 55: "Trust and Belief", where Henry and Emma get serious about the curse, Cora takes her gloves off, Regina realizes she's falling in love, and Rumplestiltskin returns home. Back in the past, Snow and Regina must face the consequences of Cora's 'execution'.
