55

She was never so lost, confused and miserable in her whole life. Not when her mother died, not when she had her memories taken away; not when He died; not when he rejected her; not when she doubted his love and was sure of his preference for power over her. Not when she pushed him out of town and out of her life. Not when she saw him in a coma, powerless and mortal, struggling for life... Never, never had she felt so bad as when he came back, finally, and she faced him, and realized suddenly and awfully that he is a stranger to her.

No, that was wrong. Not a stranger - she knew him and loved him, she felt compassion and pain at his frailty and weakness, but this was abstract human love, and natural compassion and general pain that any decent person would feel for the weak and helpless. It was not for Him she felt those things for, as hard as she looked she couldn't see Him anymore in this man he became now.

And there was one thing, which she did not feel towards him, and it was devastating...

She felt no attraction.

She used to be drawn to him like a moth to the light. Ever since the moment they met, why, even since the moment she first heard of him from Princess Anna, she was attracted - bewitched; she wanted to know him, to be near him always, she wanted him to talk to her and to touch her; she wanted to change him and to exercise power over him - power of the dagger as well as her female charms. She wanted to see passion in his eyes, wanted his voice to catch at the sound of her name; she wanted to feel her insides grow warm and wet as she imagined his touch; she wanted to melt in his arms. Why, just a few days ago she sat at his bedside flushed and ashamed for, despite her nagging worries about his declining health, despite her fear that the last petal would fall from the magical rose before she'd find a way to wake him up she caught herself fantasizing about how she'd feel when he does wake up, and how he'd press his lips to hers, and she'd touch his tongue, and he'd sigh ruggedly and draw her to him, and they'd be reunited at last - right here, on this camp-bed which always served them so well.

And all that was gone.

He stood before her, that man she loved so much and promised to love forever. He touched her hand. He held her close. It was the same man - the same body she knew so well and loved to give herself to with total abandon.

And she didn't feel it - the pull, the passion. It was gone.

How could it happen? It was such an imminent part of herself, she never lost it, even when she lost her memories. When did it happen? It was there when she waited for him to wake up, and kissed his unresponsive lips. It was there when she went away to Camelot, castigating herself for abandoning him yet realizing that, if she helplessly stayed by his immobile body much longer she would simply go mad. It was there when she returned - her memories were gone yet again, but her love for him remained. She grew impatient and restless. When Dark Swan kidnapped him, robbing them of their reunion, she snapped at the good ones who refused to help him - she really flew off the handle, outraged by their smugness, by their inability to worry about anyone but themselves and their dear ones. She searched her books and his books feverishly, trying to find clues and hints on how to save him - how to be reunited with him again.

And here he was, right in front of her, trembling on a chair by the library doors, looking at her with love, telling her things that she always wanted to hear from him - apologizing, professing her the most important person in his life, dedicating himself to her entirely.

And instead of throwing herself into his arms, these arms she missed so much, and feeling his long-awaited kiss she just sat there opposite him, and hesitantly held out her hand for him to grasp.

It must have been the shock, the sheer unexpectedness of his return, she told herself. It must have been confusion - the second he came back, things started happening, they were attacked, they tried to hide and to escape, there was simply no time to think and to feel and to reconnect.

Then, in the woods, when they were driving away from town in his car and she realized he had no intention of showing any bravery, she felt pissed - really angry. It was not like him to run away so easily, without a fight, without some cunning scheme of revenge stored up his sleeve. He was just running away from danger as any other man would - as an ordinary man would.

But he was not ordinary! She could never love an ordinary man!.. She always knew he was special, and she suffered because his dark magic was his handicap, but she knew - she always knew that darkness could be chased out of him, and there would be no darkness, just his very own, very special soul left for her to connect to. So where was this soul now? Where did his cunning and cleverness and wit and wisdom go? Perhaps they would come back if he became a hero; perhaps that was what was lacking.

So she had to urge him - to force him into action. And the only way she knew from many times before was to confront him: you change, or everything is over.

She left him there, in the middle or the road, almost exactly on the same spot where she forced him out of town with the dagger.

She walked away, fuming with anger, and unsure - she didn't know if she were angry with him, or with herself.

He justified her expectations, to put it mildly. He came back for her. He fought the horrible black bear. He won.

She ran into his arms, as she did before in those same woods. He held her close, and she felt his warm breath and his tears on her hair. His body shuddered as he felt her closeness... And instead of being exited she felt embarrassed, and instead of turning her face up so that her lips would finally meet his, she hid it on his shoulder and froze, unable to truly return his embrace.

What was wrong with her? It was him - her lover, her husband. Strong and resourceful as ever. Tender and loving as ever. She felt warm and comforted in his arms. She belonged there... As a child belongs in father's embrace.

He turned stern and cool and collected as they went to the Dark Swan and he was faced with the task of pulling the magical sword from the stone. As he was about to touch the blade that might have killed him if he were unworthy, she thought she'd die - she was so afraid... Why was she afraid? Because she didn't believe in him? But she had always, always believed in him before. Even in darkest of times. Even as she pushed him away she believed, deep in her heart, that he'd come back.

So why didn't she believe in him now?

He proved himself worthy of the sword - he pulled it out of the stone in one swift, gracious movement, and for an instant something stirred in her: some of her former excitement, some of that constant trill that his mere presence always brought her. But by the time they went home it somehow evaporated.

They walked into the house, which they shared for such a brief time. She unlocked the door - he didn't have his keys. He limped slightly behind her - she heard heavy thuds of his cane, and registered his uneven steps. She glanced at him, briefly.

His face was tired and old. His eyes were guarded. He was exhausted, and weak, and human. He looked every inch an old man who came home after a long spell in a hospital. So ordinary. So frail.

She knew what a normal, loving reunited couple would have done the moment they crossed the threshold. They would have banged the door closed, and turned to face each other, and kiss deeply, and bring back together bodies that had gone without each other for much too long. She wanted that. Didn't she dream about it constantly for the past weeks? But it was somehow impossible to actually do it. It felt odd to touch his face now, and offer her mouth for a kiss. He has been through a lot, and every line on his face screamed it. He needed rest, not passionate embraces.

So she went forward towards the kitchen and said she'd make some tea. And he followed her meekly, and again she heard his heavy limp, and a thud of his cane.

It was unbearable to see him like this. Unbearable, and strange, and confusing, for she already saw him limping and frail, and that never put her off. So what changed now?

He seemed to sense her mood - he never tried to touch her; well, he never ever presumed on her, even in the past.

Eventually the damned tea was ready, and they set down at the table.

They talked. That was one good thing about this horrible night - they talked. He started with apologizing for the fate of her chipped cup - he had to break it to escape from Emma. She reassured him it was all right. He said he had many more things to apologize for - he hurt her so many times. But, said he, he always had his reasons and, hesitantly and slowly, much as he was explaining his dependence of magic once in her library, he told her. He told her why it seemed essential for him to get free from the dagger, and why he didn't mind the price this action had. He told her of his resentment of the affair between Emma and her pirate, and she understood it. He apologized, many times over, for not sharing his plans with her; he said he always thought she'd understand.

"Perhaps I would have understood", she said, and he smiled at her with such warm, loving, grateful eyes.

That would have been a perfect moment to kiss him.

But she didn't move.

He went on talking, falteringly, not lingering on details - they were mostly painful. He explained how incredibly hurt he was to learn that Regina gave Bae's flat to her lover. How his heart failed him, and he had to find a way to remedy that.

"Well, you already know all about that", he said.

She nodded, numbly, remembering her behavior by the well. Of course she was under Regina's spell, but still - it must have hurt him terribly.

He carefully and studiously avoided any mention of her fling with Will. She was grateful to him for that.

Hours grew small. The sky behind the window would start getting lighter soon, she knew it. And still she hadn't kissed him. There were many, many opportunities during that night; but they haven't used any.

Finally, there was awkward silence.

He gave her a long and sad look, and his familiar twisted smile - a very bitter version of it. Then something seemed to close behind his eyes as he said: "You know what? I don't think I can sleep before I check how things in the shop are... Something might be missing after those attacks. I think I will get down there now".

How kind, how patient with her he was! He saw her uneasiness - he offered her a way out, a temporary respite.

She blushed, feeling ashamed of herself and at the same time slightly annoyed by his selfless gesture.

"How could you go there now? You must be deadly tired. I know I am!"

That sad smile, again. Those wise, thousand-year old eyes, again. "Go to bed. I will see you in the morning".

And with that, he limped out of the house, carefully closing the door behind him. She didn't hear the car - he must have simply walked away.

And she was left alone - to think and to cry.

So that's what he was like when there was no darkness - no magic. Sad. Old. Kind. Irritatingly good to her. Too good to be true - as if he was pretending, as if he was tricking her again. She remembered the last time she felt that way towards him - was so disappointed and resentful of him. When she was Lacey, and he tried to court her and showed her only his good sides, and it all felt forced and false and incredibly humiliating. She felt cheated then - cheated out of knowing the real him.

But he was not cheating her now. That was truly him. There would be no exiting dark surprises now. He was kind, and gentle, and loving, and he needed no urging from her to be good - he was good on his own. He did not need her light to guide him - he had light of his own. Did he really need her at all, now? What was her role in his life now? Who was she, anyway? She used to be the wife of the Dark One, the beauty who loved the beast - her fight for him was part of her nature. And now the fight was over, it was won without her help, and she felt lost - misplaced.

She always felt angry and pained when he rejected her attempts to change him. When she tried to break his curse with a kiss of true love, she was outraged by his cowardice - he wouldn't let her, for he loved his power, and he didn't believe in their love. She was strong and she saw the greater good then, and he was weak and cowardly and wouldn't face the truth of their love...

And she was right - he told her she was right. But now, as she sat at the table with empty teacups on it, and he with his kind old human face and his limp was gone to the shop a terrible, terrible thought pierced her.

What if he knew, even then, in the Enchanted Forest, what would happen if she changed him? She said she wanted him to be an ordinary man. What if he felt - what if he knew she wouldn't like him?

But that rendered her whole life meaningless. All that fighting, all these sufferings they brought each other. All her reproofs. All that was in vain - it was pointless. They both didn't really need it.

No, she couldn't be right with this horrible thought. She fell in love with the beast he used to be, and she wanted to save him for his own sake - because his power didn't make him happy. He suffered. He wanted to be set free. And he was. He is free now, and of course it is better for him. Naturally she feels awkward around him - she just doesn't know him yet. It is the same as she felt before the first curse broke, when she just walked into his shop and he greeted her with a face crumpled with tenderness yet completely unfamiliar to her. She'd get accustomed. She'd know him, and love him, and she'd rein in her pride and teach herself to remember that she is not superior to him anymore - he is a better, or at least an equally good person. He needs no saving and no guidance.

They have been through so many awful things, and still they loved each other. Surely they would survive a change for the better?

All these thoughts cheered her up considerably, and in the morning she went down to his shop with a bright smile and stood by his side, ready to face their new life.

He looked incredibly tired, as if he didn't sleep a wink during that night. But she had no time to ask him, for the Dark Pirate walked into the shop and challenged him to a duel. He accepted the challenge, to her infinite horror and the world became a frenzy of activity. All the heroes stood by his side, looking for ways to help him - to protect him. And through all that he sat with a weird resigned smile on his face - completely calm, unruffled, slightly amused by everyone's concern. He was so sure of himself, such a hero! And she felt that odd frustration again - Lacey's anger at being duped and cheated. He couldn't be what he seems - so good, so brave, so... Independent.

But he was. And that was what irritated the most.

It was him, her husband. His face, his hands, his eyes. Yet he was a complete stranger to her - she didn't know what to say or do, everything sounded wrong, every word jarred and yet he met all her gaffs with that kind, indulgent parental smile of his.

It was terrible, so see a stranger with the face of your loved one. It was torture almost as cruel as seeing him on deathbed. Was that the way he felt about her when she was Lacey, she wondered? It must have been. Yet he did all he could to keep her by his side - to be with her. He knew that her real self was somewhere inside that familiar body that behaved strangely.

So why couldn't she be like him?

He chased them away, finally, with all their useless efforts to help him and humiliating attempts to protect him. And, before going away to face his probable death, he stopped her for a moment and told her in his kindly, fatherly way that he knows what's in her heart. He never said it aloud - never said "I know you don't love my anymore". He gave her a choice - delicately, gently, as was his custom with her always. If she saw a future for them, let her come to the wishing well presently, he offered. If she didn't, all she had to do was stay away. No need to say anything.

What he asked of her was faith in them - her famous ability to hope for the best. As simple as that.

So noble she was speechless. So noble she felt ashamed, and angry, and lost.

And then he went away to fight his hopeless fight.

And she was left alone with herself, and every second spent apart from him she felt fear, and loss, and confusion, and anger. She lost herself because he changed so much. She didn't know who she was anymore. How could he be so good now? How could he act such a hero when he was the darkest of villains so recently? It all felt like a lie, and it wasn't, and she felt bad about doubting him, and she felt hurt by the change.

It felt as if he abandoned her, she realized suddenly. As if he died - the man she loved was gone just as completely as if he died.

How could he leave her - she loved him so much, she forgave him everything, how could he come and change so much and ruin all that?

She knew it was a bad way to feel, that it was wrong. She knew she must make an effort - it was all a temporary thing, she was just too confused. She must make an effort, she must give them a chance. This combination of goodness and frailty, this demonstration of bravery and truthfulness - she would get accustomed to them. He still loved her. He still needed her. She just had to discover a new way of feeling that.

She was determined to do the right thing when she walked up to the appointed meeting place, to the wishing well - to the place where they were married and where she broke his heart. She was determined to show him the hope he needed - the only thing he asked for.

But when she saw his delighted face, his eyes shining with joy of seeing her, his face alight with hope, such a wonderful man, such a good, kind man, she knew what she needed to do. She needed to tell him the truth. She owed it to him. It was the basest, meanest thing to deceive this man - to give him false hope.

And the only hope for the future she could give him there and then would have been false.

She hardly knew what she was saying as she rejected his love - she tried to voice her confusion and her pain and it all sounded wrong. She wanted to say that he felt too good for her now, but it all came out as old reproofs and accusations. And she was punished for that - punished the moment her crime was committed.

She had to see the light go out of his eyes, his face fall, his mouth sag. To hear that old, familiar note of desperation in his voice as he called her name - just once - to her retreating back.

She didn't turn back. She was too ashamed for that.

She went to their house to collect her things - not that there were many. She knew he wouldn't show up there. He was busy being a hero. And if he would go anywhere when heroic deeds were done, he'd go to his shop. It was always much more of a home to him than this big unfriendly house.

She knew him so well.

She spent the night at her father's, avoiding his worried looks, refusing to explain anything. She needed to think - to decide what she'd do now when He gave her her precious freedom.

When she received his text message, urging her to come and meet him at the shop, she was equally glad - she missed him already, and yet annoyed: that was so like him, to do something noble, like setting her free, and then to call her back almost at once. But when she came, he made no attempt to win her back. He didn't utter a single word of reproof, hadn't given her one tearful heart-melting stare. He was collected, almost businesslike, and humorous, though very warm and gentle, as he told her that he arranged everything so that she could get her wish of old - to see the wide world - granted.

He explained to her business details of the journey out of town he planned for her - things about magic for crossing the town-line, things about banks outside and credit cards and rented apartments in New York. He gave her keys to his car.

"You are a smart girl. You will figure it all out in no time. Now go".

She was stunned by his kindness, and slightly disbelieving. And hurt - as if he rejected her again, as he did in his castle: "Go away, I don't need you anymore". But then she remembered that she was the one who did the rejecting now. And, unlike her, he put no parting spells on her - he did nothing to claim her as his own.

As she gave him a final hug, she felt him give way - his resolve and calm seemed to desert him, momentarily. His embrace was slightly too tight and too desperate, and she though she heard his stifled sob.

Her heart gave a painful lurch.

"Is anything wrong?"

He gave her the brightest, the falsest of smiles as he reassured her that everything was just fine.

As she walked away, she suddenly remembered very vividly the day when he sent her away to get some straw, and she came back to kiss him. It was such a wonderful day, they talked so easily and freely, and then she said something that changed his mood. She was bewildered as to what it was then, but she knew now. They were flirting, and she playfully said that he is not as ugly as he thinks he is. Silly, careless girl... She didn't realize she loved him yet, but he already loved her, and her words must have crushed him - he understood that she doesn't return his love; doesn't even think of him in those terms - he is just a not-so-ugly monster to her. He became so pensive and sad then, and that was when he sent her away. "Do you expect me to come back? - On the contrary, I expect I shall never see you again". He gave her one of his kind and remote smiles then, and his green skin and soft curls glistened in the light of the setting sun.

She didn't think he was ugly then - not at all. She thought him mesmerizingly appealing. But he didn't know that. She never told him how she felt.

He believed she didn't love him, and he set her free. Just as today.

She felt a pang of irrational regret. He changed now, changed for the better, darkness didn't haunt him anymore. So why did she miss so much the man he was then - that tormented and adorable creature, that sad lizard with black claws and kind eyes, that monster that loved her - that man she fell in love with?

She fell in love with him for a reason: she fell in love with him because behind his grotesque face and in the depth of his tortured soul she saw a good and kind and noble man he was. She stubbornly came back to him then, and she was deserting him now.

So who was the monster here?

On that day outside of his castle it took her a long time to decide on her next course of action, and she walked away because she convinced herself that he was playing with her - and because she felt hurt and unappreciated, like a child whose toy was taken away. She walked away saying, "So you don't need me? Well, I will show you how miserable you'd actually be without me!"

She knew full well he does need her now, and knew just how much. She didn't need Regina to walk past her to set her mind right. Yet still, despite the absence of dark witches in her immediate vicinity, she had the oddest feeling of doom around her. She sat in her - his - car, thinking, calling back to mind his face, his eyes, slightest inflections of his voice. And then a sudden coldness gripped her heart.

Everybody said their story was like an old fairy tale of beauty and the beast. So what happened in this story when the beast set his beloved free? He died - she remembered the exact phrase from the book: "He lay down on the ground under the bush where the magical rose used to bloom, and he died of broken heart".

It was nonsense. His heart was fine now. He told her nothing was wrong.

And he lied. She knew him so well - of course she knew he lied.

Was she insane? How could she walk away from him - from Him - so easily? She knew that once she crossed the town-line she would never find it again - was she really planning to just go away? After everything that happened to them? After losing and finding him so many times? After seeing him die, as a hero, after bringing him back to life at terrible cost? Why was she sitting here, in this car, never even putting keys to ignition, if she were ready to leave him behind - if she didn't need him or love him anymore? Why did she spend her time remembering his old magical looks, her young love for him, if everything was over now?

She had read many books, but never in any one of them she had seen anything as fascinating as he was to her. So he showed her a new unfamiliar side of himself. How could she leave that unexplored? How could she give up so easily?

Ah, these were just words and thoughts. There was a bigger, deeper and simpler truth about what was holding her in place - what was prodding her to come back.

She just couldn't imagine living thorough a day without seeing his face. His lined, old, his darling face, with his sad and dark eyes that could go flat and empty and deep and warm in a span of a second.

She pictured his face, just now in the shop. Felt his hands, warm and dry and shaking slightly as he gave her the keys. She felt his embrace, urgent and gentle, his catching breath on her skin, and saw his eyes, filled with love and regret yet still smiling, as he said: "Now go and have a life".

What life could she have without him?

She knew why she still sat in her car, unmoving, even though hours passed since he sent her away.

It was because she didn't want to go anywhere. She wanted to be with him.

Sound of a text message on her phone caught her by such surprise she nearly jumped. It was from Henry.

"Belle, were'r u and grandpa? Need you around. We all r alive, but just barely. Hook dead, Mum all in tears".

Her hand trembled as she pushed "dial" and, upon hearing his husky teenage "Hello?", asked: "What do you mean you are alive? Were you going to die?.."

And he told her. About the Dark Ones coming back from Hell and marking everyone for death instead of them - her husband included. About Hook's sacrifice. About general commotion and grief.

She hang up, finally, promising to get around to them eventually.

She sat for a couple more minutes, numbly.

So the beast really was going to die after he set his beauty free. He called her to his shop to say farewell. He sent her away to shelter her from danger. He was sparing her from grief that he knew, in his infinite wisdom, she would feel upon his death - if she knew of it. And still he smiled and said "may be you'd come back one day", and his unnaturally bright voice quivered only slightly, and all that time he knew he is seeing her for the last time, and she is seeing him for the last time, oh heartless, lying, noble bastard, how could he be so kind and so cruel at the same time, so devious and selfless and so stupid in his stubborn wish to push her away for her own good!

Well it seemed he didn't change so much, after all. This infuriating creature that always surprised and puzzled her was still there, behind this kind old gentleman's face.

She run back to the shop, slammed the door as she walked it. She feared irrationally that, while everyone else survived, he'd still be somehow dead.

But he was fine - he was sitting at his working desk, with a decanter of brandy by his side... Well-well, this new version of her husband apparently wouldn't have objected to Lacey's drinking as much as the old version did.

He looked at her with astonishment as she run up to him.

"You lied to me again!.."

His face looked so tired - he was tired of her reproofs, he heard them so many times, and they were so glaringly unjust right now. His head jerked back slightly as he prepared to explain himself, yet again. But she didn't come to reproach him or preach to him - not today.

Her lips went straight to his, and her mouth opened hungrily to meet his tongue.

His breath smelled of brandy, and that was unusual and trilling.

His eyes were hesitant, doubtful, as if he wanted to tell her something - to warn her of something. She didn't give him time - she didn't want any words just as she didn't want any world beyond his embrace. She just wanted him, and told him so.

The intensity of his kiss was frightening - he was gulping her in, ready to devour her, as if he couldn't believe she was real and wanted to drink this brief illusion of her presence to the last drop. Just as she wanted - just as she needed.

No more mildness and politeness, no more noble choices, no more hesitations and tears. He was asserting his right of possession, and she was succumbing to him, and it felt wonderful, and she felt the man she loved breaking out of the cage of his apparent frailty and meekness, making his way back to her.

So he was there inside all along - it just took her time to see him. His changed soul made her temporary forget just how much she loved his body. But he was setting everything right now.

He pressed her close to him, and she felt his familiar hardness, and she shut her eyes in blissful oblivion as dark, smothering desire engulfed her.

She missed him so much - so much. And now she finally had him back.