Something kept poking him, forcefully, from a deep corner at the back of his mind. Never mind, his mind was still processing all the new memories, merging them with his previous lives memories. Rumple hadn't been too concerned with his memories as 'Mr Gold'. He had nothing to lose then, his heart had been as black as they came, and he hadn't cared about the consequences. All that had mattered was waiting for the curse to break and finding his son after centuries of trying to get to him. His memories as 'Weaver' were giving his new found consciousness something to mull over. It seemed his darkness, while he had been hibernating in the back of his mind, had been making up for the peaceful years, Rumple had spent in pure bliss with his darling wife, Belle.
'Belle.' He thought with a sad, limp smile.
It felt like only yesterday, they were sitting down outside of Grannies, preparing party bags, laying food out on paper plates, hanging up bunting, declaring ' Happy Birthday' for their son, Gideon. The starting point to their happy adventures. A lifetime of travel, of adventure. Exploring cities, countries, realms together, hand in hand as they watched their son grow into a mighty fine man. As Gideon grew, the more Rumple had seen glimmers of his eldest son, Baelfire. They weren't identical, but there were odd looks, expressions, a certain way Gideon said something that brought on a memory of Baelfire and a few stray tears down his father's face. Making him regret every decision and never wanting to change a decision. It was torturous to wish, he had done things differently with Baelfire, because then Gideon may never have been born and Rumple couldn't bear to think about it. He loved both his boys and missed them both as much now, kept apart by death and by realms.
Yanking open the glass door to the precinct, Rumple entered the busy reception area, his eyes instantly inspected the people sitting on the plastic chairs, waiting to be seen by an officer. His eyes narrowed at them, each in turn, instantly recognising each as a desperate soul: a prostitute, waiting for her pimp; worried mother, needing news about her lost child; and a loser, down on his luck and desperate for the charges to be hushed under table, so he didn't lose his job. The darkness was keen for him to make a deal, but his days of deal making were behind him.
"Weaver?" Called a familiar Irish voice. "What are you doing here?"
Rumple turned to find Hook… No, Rogers approaching him. "I work here, don't I?"
"Yeah, but you're supposed to be on medical leave." Rogers informed him, a wad of magnolia files in one hand, his fake hand waved towards the door, while Rogers swept his eyes around the entrance area unsure of himself.
"I'll blow my brains out, if I have to sit at home, watching anymore daytime TV." Rumple glanced sideways at the bank of windows, looking in on the booking area, which was a hive of activity. "And it sure looks like you could do with a hand."
Rogers shuffled closer, hugging his wad of files to his chest. "You know, you can't be here until your psych evaluation and you've been signed off by the docs."
"Rogers," Rumple stepped closer, pointing his forefinger into Rogers' face. "I will do whatever, whenever, I choose to do it. If I want to come back to work, then I will bloody well come back to work. Do you understand?"
"Yeah, course, Weaver." Rogers said, becoming sheepish.
"Good." Rumple unclenched the rest of his fingers and gently tapped his hand against Rogers cheek.
He took no enjoyment in making Rogers uncomfortable, or more his friend, Hook. Years ago, he would've loved to toy with Hook's other counterpart. Lowering his hand from Rogers's face, Rumple curled his fingers into a fist, vividly feeling the beating heart of Hook's in his hand, giving that delightful amount of resistance before his fingers would break the outer wall of the throbbing organ. He brushed passed Rogers, bumping his shoulder, as he flexed the fingers of his fist, rubbing his thumb firmly over the side of his forefinger, remembering the look on Belle's face. That look haunted him and so it should. Every day since that pinnacle moment, Rumple had sought to make it up to her, though he very much doubted he had even come close to paying that debt to his wife before she died.
Officers greeted him with a nod or a muttered 'Weaver' or 'Sir'. Rumple ignored some of them, gave the odd one a distracted wave of his hand, too wrapped up in his own memories to offer them anything more. His legs carried him to his office and he dropped into his chair, swinging round to face his desk as Rogers took a seat at the opposing desk, delivering his wad of files to his in-tray.
"You better stay out of the way of the Captain." Rogers remarked, pulling out his top desk draw to take out some forms, and closed it, saying. "He's already warned us to keep you out of the building. God help me, if he finds you at your desk."
Rumple rolled his eyes at Rogers worrying. "Stop being such a girl. Captain isn't going to do anything. He'll be relieved to see me, seeing how much paperwork is stacked on your desk." He flicked his hand at the stack in the in-tray and the pile beside it. "Might even give you accommodation for looking after his number one detective."
Flicking through the stack of files, Rogers pulled out a thin file and tossed it to land on the jotter pad in front of Rumple. "While I go and get the number one detective a coffee, why don't you stick your signature on what you claimed happened, when you got shot."
His eyebrow lifted at the askew file on his desk, while Rogers stood, collecting his mug, and scooted out of their office, taking Rumple's mug on the way. Rumple watched Rogers go. So many memories, so many they did not share, but were interwoven with one another for so many centuries. It was almost funny how much at one time, he had wanted to bury a hatchet in Hook's head, rip out his heart, feed his guts through his spinning wheel, while Hook writhed and cried out on the floor at his feet. Now look at them. Partners in crime and punishment, protecting everyone they cared about, both with a soft spot for Alice, guarding her as a father would.
Rumple shook his head at his thoughts, amused by how preposterous the idea was, and leaned forward in his chair to straighten the file and opened it out to read its contents. The first page was a detailed report of the known facts: 10:11pm 911 call from 509-6995; Ambulance dispatched at 10:12pm; 10:16pm Paramedics arrive on scene. 10:17pm Paramedic reports 'Office Down' - Detective Callum Weaver. 10:20pm HHPD arrive on scene. 10:22pm Detective Killian Rogers arrives on scene.
He flipped over the page to reveal a diagram of the crime scene, detailing the layout of the shipping container, where his body had been positioned, the estimate area where the shot was fired. It was strange to see what could've possibly been the report on his own murder. The first time in his long, dark life, Rumple had been glad to be the Dark One, saving him, from a pointless death, and Alice, from being punished for something he had told her to do. Well… He chuckled. Waking him up was one thing, shooting him was not what he had expected. At least she hadn't given up. Alice shared that trait with his nearest and dearest.
"Belle." He murmured her name in a whisper.
Belle… His eye was drawn to the date, in bold, at the top of the page, ' 06-17-2018'. Gideon's first birthday was in three days. Gideon's birthday party. Meaning, Belle was in Storybrooke. Belle was alive and was on the other side of the country. Right now, she was probably taking a stroll with Gideon, pushing him along in his stroller, sunglasses on, carefree, checking all the preparations for the birthday party were in hand.
That's what had been nagging him. Belle would be alive. Belle ' was' alive.
Rumple jumped up out of his chair, forcing it to fly backwards, colliding loudly with the wall behind him. The papers pinned to the wall behind him, fluttered up from the force, attracting the attention of many of the detectives in the bullpen outside his office. He was oblivious to the looks and the whispers as he felt his green khaki jacket, searching himself for something, for anything, while his mind whirled at the realisation his wife was alive and well, living on the opposite side of the country. Approximately, two thousand, five hundred miles keeping them apart.
"Weaver, are you okay?" Someone asked him from the doorway.
Turning his gaze to them, a female officer was lingering in their doorway, her eyebrows pushed together in concern. Rumple looked down at himself and then tugged at the hem of his jacket, pulling out the wrinkles he had made, and waved off her concern.
"Yes, I'm fine." He pivoted round and grabbed his chair, and pulled it in behind him as he sat down, saying. "I'm perfectly fine, Officer Coles."
"Do you need anything, sir?" She asked, unconvinced.
Rumple shifted in his chair. "Haven't you got anything better to be doing, Coles, than bothering me?"
Coles stood up straight, pushed her shoulders back, affronted by his tone. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."
Leaning to one side, Rumple drew up the hem of his jacket and delved his hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone, as Rogers came into the office, carrying the two mugs, idly looking round in the direction Coles must have gone. Rumple unlocked his phone and deftly typed in his home phone number, but stopped with his thumb over the call button.
"What's up with Coles?" Rogers questioned, setting Rumple's mug down on the desk in front of him.
"Sometimes people need to mind their own business." Rumple commented, mindlessly.
Rogers glanced once more out into the bullpen as he sat down at his desk, putting his mug down on the coaster. "Take it easy. Everyone was very worried about you, Weaver."
"That'll be a first." He said dryly under his breath.
His lips pressed into a thin, tight line, considering whether to call or not. It wouldn't hurt, he told himself, checking the time at the top of the screen on his phone. It was lunchtime in Maine. She could've been at home, right now, sitting in the living room, reading a book with her legs curled up beside her, while Gideon took a nap upstairs. He wouldn't be there. He was at the shop, organising things for the first trip, booking flights and hotels, causing him to forget the things Belle had asked him to get from the store, on the way home.
"Are you sure, you're okay?" Rogers carefully asked. "You've been staring at your phone for the last five minutes."
Rumple swivelled away from the desk, turning side on to it and stabbed his thumb on the call button, whilst saying to Rogers. "I didn't realise it was a crime."
Glimpsing at Rogers, who had chosen to open up one of the files on his desk, Rumple put his phone to his ear, listening to the rings as he waited for her to answer. He swallowed nervously. It had been so long, too long, since he had last heard her voice. Her actual voice, not the one he heard inside his head, when he needed a voice of reason.
On the fourth ring, he wondered whether he would hear the difference in her voice, between her older and younger self. Would there be any difference? Apart from putting on a different voice, back in the Enchanted Forest, Rumple couldn't recognise any difference in his voice. He was confident these days, not so much the coward he used to be, so that may have been a difference. But Belle… She had always been confident, enthusiastic, full of life. Even near the end, no matter how much he had told her to sit down and let him do it, she had given him ' the look ' and did it herself, refusing to let old age hold her back.
"Phew… Hello, Gold residence."
Her voice startled him. Fumbling his phone, it clattered down onto his desk, bouncing from end to end and then slapped itself down onto his desk. Rumple cursed himself as he scrambled to grab his phone, hearing her distant little voice asking, ' Hello…?' . As he righted the phone in his hand and put it back to his ear, Rumple caught the quizzical eyebrow Rogers was giving him and turned further round, putting his back to Rogers.
"Hello…?" Belle tried again.
Sticking to his 'Weaver' accent, Rumple responded. "Is this the residence of Mr Gold?"
"Err… Yes, I'm his wife. Can I help you?" She queried.
Rumple closed his eyes, picturing her in the kitchen, shoulder against the wall like she did, when she was on the phone, waiting for him to answer. "I'm sorry, Mrs Gold, I need to speak to your husband. It's not important. I'll call back another time. Thank you for your time." And he hung up, unable to stand another second of lying to her.
Spinning round to face his desk, Rumple tossed his phone onto the desk, landing loudly with a clunk, and snatched up his coffee from the desk, continuing round in his chair to look out the window. His heart was racing. His palms were sweaty. His chest felt restricted. God, he had wanted to pour his heart out to her, confess his undying love like he had done a million times over, tell her she was his sun, his moon, his stars; she was everything to him. Rumple loved her, craved her and wanted her all at the same time. Memories and emotions bubbled to the surface, overwhelming him and he wanted to desperately cry out for her.
He gulped down several mouthfuls of his coffee, preventing himself from stupidly calling out to her. She might be his wife, but she wasn't his wife. She didn't know the private little jokes they had. The little things they had grown to love to do together, like sitting in front of their house, gazing out on the Edge of Realms, drinking tea and reminiscing, and teasing each other. This Belle didn't know these things, not yet, anyway. But hearing her voice, had been like ripping the plaster off an old wound, reopening the healed scar. Igniting the old ache in his heart.
Turning enough to put his mug on his desk, Rumple turned back, hiding his face from Rogers as the tears threatened to spill down his cheeks. He shouldn't have called. It was stupid and weak of him to do it. He shouldn't have done it, because now he wanted to see her. See her in her glory with her luscious brown hair, that curled around his fingers when he ran his fingers through her hair. Her warm, kind blue eyes, which drew him in, drowning himself in their depths. Rumple sucked in his lower lip at the image in his head, while still hearing the hypnotic tone of her voice in his ears.
"Weaver!" The Captain barked. "What the hell are you doing here? You're on medical leave and can't come back until your evaluations have been done."
Rumple discreetly wiped at his face before he swivelled round in his chair, putting on a smile for the Captain. "I'm not doing anything, Captain. Just sitting here, enjoying the view." He waved to the window behind him. "And signing my statement for the shooting."
"Get on with it then and get the hell out of here!" The Captain ordered in a harsh tone.
"Don't worry, Captain, I'm already gone." Rumple plucked a pen out of the pot on his desk, elaborately flaring his pen through the air, whilst he flicked through the pages in the file to find his statement and signed it with a dramatic dot at the end of it. "There you go. Happy?"
"Just get out of here, Weaver. I won't say it again." The Captain mumbled back at him, already walking away from his office.
Rogers leaned forward, crooking his neck to watch the Captain walk away, reminding Rumple. "I told you."
"Shut up, Rogers." Rumple snapped at him, flicking close the file to throw back to Rogers's desk.
Collecting his phone, he got up and sauntered out of his office without a care. As he strolled through the rows of desks, heading for the stairs, many of the Officers and Detectives watched him leave, whispering that he should've been a dead man. Jogging down the stairs, Rumple dug into the pocket of his jeans to pull out his car keys, deciding to do the most reckless thing in his life. His decisions had always been steered by his endgame. Whether it was saving and protecting his love ones, willingly sacrificing himself for them; these things had influenced the things he had done.
Right now, Rumple should've been seeking out Henry and his family, preparing to protect them, while also finding the Guardian, but… To see her, one more time? He couldn't stop himself, even if he had wanted to, he wouldn't have stopped himself. Rumple would always choose her.
The sun had already started to descend behind the treeline as Rumple pulled to a stop in the rental car, outside of his cabin. Putting the car into park, he slumped back into the driver's seat, hit with the memories the sight of the cabin brought forward. Weekends spent enjoying the sunshine, dipping in the pond out the back, skinning dipping in the moonlight when Gideon was fast asleep. So many memories, so little time to recall all of them. He could've spent a lifetime reliving all of his memories. The good and the bad, because without the bad, the good wouldn't be as sweet to remember.
Rumple pulled the latch for his door, illuminating the interior, and climbed out of the car, his gaze on the building in front of him. It must have been over fifty years since he had last been to the cabin. Once they had set on their travels, exploring all of the wonders of this land, they hadn't even looked back to Storybrooke and simply moved on to another realm, looking forward instead of back. He gently pushed his door close, allowing his eyes to roam around the clearing of his cabin. Just being there, Rumple knew he was tempting fate and possibly changing things, but he had to see her. He didn't have to talk to her, to touch her, to kiss her… The thought made him scrunch his brow as he pushed the last point aside and returned to just wanting to see her.
Trekking through the woods, Rumple had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his green khaki jacket, shoulders hunched forward, driven by the chance to see her. It was a fair walk from the cabin to his house. He had done it numerous times before, he knew it well, which was helpful as it quickly grew dark. By the time he reached the back fence of his house, it was dark enough to seek around without anyone easily recognising him.
He tiptoed at the fence, peeking over the top of it to see the house. Most of the lights were on downstairs, illuminating the periphery of the house. Straining more onto his toes, Rumple held his breath, waiting to catch a glimpse of her as she moved about the house. He waited a while, shifted along the fence, hoping a new angle would reward his efforts. Growing impatient, he pulled himself up and over the fence, and stealthily snuck closer to the house, stooping as he neared the house. Bracing his back against the outside wall of the house, Rumple slid towards the French doors, mindful, with a glance behind him, if a neighbour saw him.
"Bubble wands?" Rumple froze, when he heard her voice. "Yeah, what the hell, why not."
Braving to move closer, he leant as far forward as he dared, straining his neck to look through into the kitchen. Unable to see her, Rumple edged a little closer.
"Well, weather permitting, we're having it outside of Grannies. She said, she'd help with some of the food." Belle said, unsuspecting anybody was watching, as she waltzed into the kitchen, phone wedged by her ear, stuffed animals stuffed under her left arm, a stack of plates, baby cup and a glass in her hands.
His knees weakened at the sight of her, causing him to slump heavily against the wall behind him. Nine years, nine years since the last time he set eyes on her. Older, but her. It wasn't possible, but Rumple would've sworn, she was more beautiful than the last time he saw her or any of the memories he could conjure of her. He wanted to savour the moment, like he had done so many times before, imprinting everything, down to the smallest detail.
Belle turned on the tap, rinsing the items she had in the sink before stacking them into the dishwasher, the noise of the water partly drowned out what she was saying. "Sure… Be good. Yeah, I can't… I've done most… Rumple's been working…" She laughed. "No, I don't think… on destroying Storybrooke. He hasn't used it once. Not… to turn lights off."
The baby monitor sprung to life on the kitchen island and Belle reacted instantly, twisting to eye the monitor as Gideon cried. "I've got to go Mary-Margaret." She said turning off the tap. "Yep, if I need anything else, I'll let you know. Okay… Alright, bye."
The phone dropped from her shoulder and Belle caught it, ended the call and discarded the phone to the counter, claiming the hand towel from the rail on the front of the oven as she left the kitchen. He shouldn't, but he was tiptoeing closer to the French doors, needing a better spot to observe her leaving the room. She shot up the stairs and out of his view, calling up to Gideon, while she climbed the stairs.
Seeing his house was too surreal. Twenty-eight years, this house had been his prison. A symbol of his loneliness. Then she had come back to him, bringing light back into his life, changing everything that she touched. The house became their home. They lay in bed together, planning for their future, pillow talking about the adventures they had finally done. Lived, fought and loved within the four walls of this house. Seven years, they spent in this house together, a new chapter in their relationship, going beyond the Master and his maid, the beast and the beauty.
Rumple was reaching for the door handle of the French doors before he realised and was inside with the door clicking shut, when the voice shrilled inside his head, screaming for him to get out of the house. This wasn't his house anymore. This was their house. He shouldn't have been there, but… He couldn't help himself. He was the moth drawn to her flame. She was his north and he was her polar opposite, attracted to one another no matter how angry they were at each other. Overcoming the obstacles, because their love was pure and strong. Nothing could come between them, not even death.
Down the stairs, he heard her coming back down and slipped into the dining room, hugging the wall of the doorway, listening to her hum happily to herself. Her footsteps tapped their way back into the kitchen. Rumple snuck a peek into the kitchen and leaned further, when he saw her back was turned to him, returning to the sink to finish off rinsing the items in the sink, stacking them in the dishwasher. He held his hand over his heart, painful as it clenched at the sight of her, yearning to go to her. Though it hurt to be this close to her, Rumple would gladly pay the price, if he could stay there and watch her.
A kick of her foot shut the dishwasher, whilst she turned off the water running into the sink, finished with clearing away for the evening. He was late. His dinner was waiting in the oven. He was late, because he was stuck at the store, listening to Leroy, tell him how he still owned the building and should be responsible for the repairs. This was the other reason, he had forgotten some of the things Belle had wanted from the store, because he was pointing out that he no longer collected rent, so Leroy should tend to the issues on his own. Surrounded by the other dwarfs, he'd had no choice but to stand there and listen, gazing off into space during their discussion, scolding himself for not leaving the shop sooner.
Belle wiped her hands on the hand towel as she moved around the kitchen, coming around the kitchen island to go to the fridge. Fearing she might see him, Rumple slid a step back and the floorboard underneath his right foot creaked. His eyes snapped down to the board below him. Praying she hadn't heard, he closed his eyes and lifted his head, inclining it back until he touched the wall behind him. Rumple opened his eyes before taking a tentative look. Brown eyes met with blue eyes. He shot back so quick, the board underneath him creaked again, then the contents of the sideboard clunked and rattled when he backed into it.
"Whose there?!" Belle demanded.
It wasn't supposed to go like this. He wasn't supposed to be in the house! On the plane, Rumple had outlined exactly what he would do. Park the car at the cabin to avoid being notice, hike through the woods to the house, loiter outside until he saw her and then get back on a plane to Seattle. She wasn't supposed to see him! Cursing the Gods, Rumple had no idea how much of the timeline he had changed just by being there. How much of it had changed, because he got on a plane? Whose existence had been wiped, because he had entered his own house? What catastrophe had been caused, because he had come face to face with the past version of his wife? The possibilities were endless and he should've known better.
"Rumple?" She questioned in the doorway to the kitchen.
He remained where he was, back pressed up the sideboard, staring at his wife. Cautiously, Belle stepped out of the doorway and into the dining room, mere feet away from him, scrunching her brow at him as her eyes went head to toe, and back again. She knew, she could tell something wasn't right as she looked at him. His appearance wasn't too different, but it would've been enough for his wife to know, regardless of the clothes he was wearing.
Her hands framed her waist as she interrogated him. "Who are you? What are you doing in my house? Why do you look like my husband?"
"It's me, Belle." Rumple couldn't lie to her, not after so many years of honesty.
"You look like him, but you're not my Rumple." She pointed to the differences as she named them. "Your hair is slightly longer. My husband would never wear those clothes. Your voice is slightly different. And my husband, would not be sneaking around his own house." Belle folded her arms in front of her, fearless. "Again, who are you?"
"No, I'm not your Rumple." He said sadly, the pain of his words tightened the vice around his heart. "I'm… A future version of him."
Her eyebrow quirked at his omission, whilst she remained strong in her defiance of his truth. "Future version?"
"Yes." Rumple pushed himself away from the sideboard, tugging down the hem of his jacket and then at his sleeves.
A small line appeared between her eyebrows, a tell that his wife was concerned. "If you're from the future, why are you here? What do you want?"
With a sigh, he answered her. "I'm not here for anything really. I just wanted to see you."
"To see me?" Belle unfolded an arm to point at herself.
A genuine smile tugged at the corners of Rumple's lips. "Yes, to see you."
"But why…" Her question was interrupted by the front door opening, followed by a call of "I'm home!" from his past self.
"Rum…" She began to call out for him, but stopped when Rumple dashed forward, encroaching into her personal space, his forefinger held over his lips to shush her.
The smell of her perfume, so familiar, so enticing, teased him as he instructed her. "You need to send him away."
"I will not!" She rebuffed his instruction, giving him a very stern look, which did nothing but make him smile, and from the look on her face, she had not been anticipating that as his reaction.
"Ask him, if he's spoken to your father about coming to Gideon's birthday party." Rumple urged, gesturing for her to go ahead and talk to her husband.
In the other room, footsteps clicked and clacked into the kitchen, loitering near the sitting area, where he recalled he had stood, removing his suit jacket and his tie as Belle had come out from the dining room. There had been something strange about her. A strange look on her face. He had known he was in trouble before she had opened her mouth, asking him about her father, who he should've visited earlier that day, offering an olive branch.
"So," She started to say, a tell-tale Rumple was definitely in trouble. "What did my father have to say?"
There was a hiss of ' shit' before the other Rumple said. "I meant to go and see him, but I got caught up at the shop."
"Tell him to go and talk to him." Rumple whispered to her, shouldering up the wall on the other side of the doorway, out of sight but easily heard.
"Why don't you go and do it now?" Belle suggested, giving Rumple a sideways glance.
The other Rumple frowned at her. "What? Now?" He motioned to the kitchen. "Belle, I haven't had my dinner and your father can wait till tomorrow. Gideon's birthday is days away. We've got time to ask him."
"Tell him, you'll make it worth his while." Rumple murmured, titling his head to see her.
He smiled as the scene in the other room played out in his mind. The change in her demeanour. The way she leisurely leant against the wall, arm extended above her, her hand on the doorway, forcing her right boob to push up, attracting his eye to the movement. She had always been sexy, no matter what she did. Mad or not, if she had ordered him to get down onto his knees, with her hand on her hip, thrusting her backside out to the side, he would've dropped to his knees in a heartbeat. Hence why, Rumple was aware, the other Rumple wouldn't refuse her, or remembered not refusing her.
"If you go and do it now, I'll make it worth your while when you get home." Her sultry tone made Rumple want to go with his past self and talk to his father-in-law, but that was a conversation, he'd rather not repeat.
Leaning back from the opening, Rumple waited with baited breath for his counterpart, who was crossing the kitchen to his wife, eyebrows raised, unbuttoning his shirt collar and the one below it, saying. "How worthwhile will it be, Mrs Gold?"
Rumple closed his eyes, reliving in his mind the suggestive flex of her eyebrows, the mischievous grin, whilst her arms had slung around his neck, enticing him to come closer. "That I'll change into that crotchless teddy you like and wear the fishnets."
"You wicked, wicked woman." Rumple breathed in as his counterpart nuzzled his face into Belle's neck, breathing her in as he placed a wet open kiss to her neck. "How could I possibly refuse?"
"Easily, but you won't." She uttered into his ear, dragging her nails down the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine.
The other Rumple let out a groan, resting his head onto her shoulder, as he whined. "But I really don't want to go and talk to your father."
"The sooner you do it; the sooner you get your reward." Belle coaxed him.
A grumble under his breath and the other Rumple said, untangling himself from Belle. "Fine. I'll go and do it."
"That's a good boy." She praised.
"You do remember that I'm three centuries old?" His counterpart asked on his way to the front door. "Powerful sorcerer? Known as the Dark One? Wiped out armies with a flick of a finger?" He waved his hand through the air to make his point. "Big bad villain?"
"All I see is my husband." She told him with that smile, the one that melted his cold heart and tongue-tied him.
The door handle is in the other Rumple's hand, whilst he's stood in the foyer, looking back at Belle. "I love you, Belle."
"I love you too." Belle responded immediately to her husband, seeming to forget about him being stood a foot away from her.
At hearing the front door open, Rumple turned his head in the direction, listening to his other self leave the house and close the door behind him. Within a second of the door being closed, Belle sidestepped through the doorway, coming face to face with him again. Her eyes became slits as she scrutinised him, re-evaluating him, now she was able to get a closer look at him.
"Explain yourself then." She propped her hands on her hips, wanting her explanation.
"I don't really know what to tell you." Rumple confessed as he moved to pull a chair out from the dining table and sat down. "I don't want to tell you something that might influence or change our future."
Belle yanked the chair out from the head of the table and dropped into it, accusing him. "You could've already changed the timeline by coming here!"
"I know!" He replied with earnest, not needing her to point out his mistake.
"Then why are you here? To see me? Is there something wrong?" She fired questions at him without a pause.
Playing with the ring on right hand, twisting it back and forth, he avoided looking at her, ashamed of his weakness. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself. I had to see you."
She breathed out heavily, absorbing his feeble excuse, and said to him. "I'm going to assume I'm dead in the future you've come from."
"Yes." Rumple muttered, finding it painful to confirm her assumption.
"Do I see Gideon grow up?" Belle asked, tentatively.
Smiling crookedly, Rumple mustered enough of himself together to lift his gaze to meet her own. "Yes."
The breath she inhaled through her nose was noisy. "How do I really know it's you?"
He rolled his eyes at the cliche and sat back in the chair, laying his forearms onto the dining table, lacing his fingers together. "Ask me something."
"Yes, but if you're my husband, shouldn't I know that you're my husband?" Belle speculated.
Rumple smirked. "Sweetheart, you're overthinking it now."
"I wouldn't be, if someone hadn't glimmered themselves to look like Killian that one time." She accused, with a deep frown on her face.
"We've spoken about this." His shoulders slumped, recalling the deep heartfelt discussion she had insisted they had one night, needing to air all the past indiscretions. "I said I was sorry. You know that goddamn dagger is my weakness. I had to be sure it was safe." Rumple flung a hand through the air, motioning to roundabout in the direction of the field. "How was I supposed to know, you'd buried it in a field, on the outskirts of town?"
A devious smile pushed back the edges of Belle's lips, crinkling the corners of her eyes, highlighting the little dimples in her cheeks. His brow flexed together. Gradually, Rumple lowered his arm back down onto the table, wary of the look she was giving him. A thought began to brew as he inclined his head back, continuing his inspection of her, while she purposefully clasped her hands in front of her, mimicking his earlier posture.
With a sly smile, Rumple praised her. "Very clever." He lifted his right hand to wag his finger at her. "Very clever, indeed."
"It is, when were the only ones that actually know where I buried it." She surmised and pursed her lips proudly.
Belle had always been clever. Her downfall had always been her willingness to give him the benefit of the doubt, loving him unconditionally, forgiving him no matter what and being the most patient person he knew - And he loves her for these reasons. Always had and always will.
"Is there a reason you needed to see me?" Belle inquired, bringing him out of his reverie.
"I…" He stopped, not sure what he should and shouldn't say to her, in case she told his younger self.
Her hand reached across the table and claimed one of his hands, startling him with the contact, but he soon relaxed under the soothing heat of her hand. For so long, her hands had had a tinge of coldness to them, a nice thrilling sensation at times, yet foreshadowed the inevitable. Turning his hand over, clasping her smaller hand inside of his larger hand, Rumple caressed his thumb across the back of her hand, marvelling at the elasticity of her younger skin. He could feel himself getting teary at his memories, torn between the reality in front of him and the ghost of his beloved.
"Rumple," Belle squeezed his hand. "Has it been a long time?"
He scoffed at the notion of time, dislodging a tear to escape down his cheek. "Nearly a decade and it feels like it was yesterday."
The expression on her face nearly broke him. Her sudden tight grip on his hand and her other hand coming to clasp over the top of their joined hands, grounded Rumple from drowning in his emotions. Meeting her gaze, he wasn't embarrassed for her to see the tears welling up in his eyes. This was his love. The woman he had spent a lifetime with, who had seen him at his worst and encouraged him to be his best. No, he wasn't ashamed, he wore his tears like medals, mournful for his lost love and proud he had gotten the chance to love such a pure creature.
A sobering thought made him look round to the grandfather's clock. "I need to go." He stood up, pushing the chair back, reluctant to let go of her hand. "I'll be back soon."
"You don't need to go so soon. Rumple will under…" She smiled, bashfully. "You'll understand."
"No, I need to go, I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't have come." He confessed, firmly holding her hand.
Belle got up and inadvertently put herself in front of him as she said. "No, you probably shouldn't have, but then," Her right shoulder rose and fell. "If it'd been the other way round, I think I'd seek you out as well, if I got to talk to you one more time."
"Always so understanding." Rumple cupped her face with his free hand, brushing his thumb over the roundness of her cheek. "I've never deserved you or your love."
"Tell me something I don't know." She teased, tugging on his hand she held.
"I'm sorry, but I've got to go." He insisted as he reluctantly removed his hand from her grasp and crossed to the doorway of the kitchen.
"Rumple." Belle called to him.
Swivelling round on the balls of his feet, he was startled by the pair of hands capturing his face and whimpered at the firm, soft lips pressing themselves against his own. His eyes bulged at Belle kissing him, her eyes closed for a heartfelt kiss.
When she pulled back from him, she smiled sweetly at him. "Something to keep you going."
Rapidly blinking at her in disbelief, Rumple was in a complete daze from her kiss. Her right hand moved to stroke some of his hair back, feeding it back behind his ear, and followed the line of his hair to the back of his neck, where she played with the ends of his hair. Belle was looking at him like she always did with pure unadulterated love.
There wasn't any thought as he tilted his head and leant into her, fusing his lips to hers, whilst grabbing handfuls of clothing, pulling her closer so he could securely wrap his arms around her. She didn't refuse his kiss. She keenly returned his kiss with her fingers threading into his hair at the side of his head, holding his head steady.
It was too much and not enough, all at the same time. Rumple wanted to lose himself for the rest of his time in her kiss. Forget about everyone back in Hyperion Heights, give up his quest to find the Guardian, and solely give himself, again, to the woman in his arms. He didn't want the moment to end, yet he didn't have a choice. Her husband, his younger self, was going to come through the door, any minute, and Rumple had to let her go, again.
And he found himself becoming jealous of his other self. Jealous of the life they were going to have, the adventures they would go on, the laughs they would share, which would solely be theirs. He would give anything to do it all again. Spend another lifetime with Belle. Even though, it would only lead him right back to that point, where she laid in front of him, gasping for breath, confessing a lie she had kept from him, clutching his hand, touching his face, while offering him assurance they would be together again. Her faith in him to complete his quest, to fulfil the prophecy, was as always unwavering. How was he supposed to do it without her?
They mutually pulled apart, staring into each other's eyes, both breathing rather heavily. Rumple lazed his arms around her, easing slowly back from her, while his heart broke in two, knowing this would be the last time he would ever see her. Her hands slipped down the front of his chest. He swallowed at the lump in his throat, hoping he was strong enough to let her go again. He had to let her go for his, hers and Gideon's sake.
The front door opened with a call of "It's official! Your father and I will never, EVER, be amicable!"
"Really?" She called back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I never would've guessed it."
"But," It sounded like he was in the kitchen. "Your father will be at the party and has assured me, he will not be speaking to me and can't wait for you to come to your senses and divorce me."
Rumple smirked at the memory of Maurice, bravely, pointing his finger in his face, spitting his words out with venom. He still to this day can't believe he never turned her father into a snail - He would've made an impressive snail.
"I'll distract him… you, so you can slip out." Belle whispered as she removed his arms from around her and took a step to go, but halted to say. "Don't lose faith, Rumple. I'm sure we'll be together again." She touched his face. "We'll find each other. No matter how long it takes. We'll be together again."
She gave him one more smile and left him, leaving him to reach hopelessly for her, having no choice again but to watch her go. Squeezing his eyes close, Rumple consoled himself, telling himself, he wasn't really losing her. She was his now and she was his then, and she would always be his, just as he would always be hers. The sentiment of his words meant everything to him and he knew they were true, but that didn't stop the ache in his heart.
With three hard tugs at the hem of his jacket, Rumple gathered himself together, focusing on the fact, he needed to leave the house before he and the other Rumple came face to face. Carefully stepping up to the doorway, he snooped a look into the kitchen, edging further when he couldn't see them and spotted himself and Belle wrapped up in each other, kissing on the far side of the kitchen near the breakfast table. A smile grew on his face, remembering how Belle had come up beside him as he had been opening a bottle of wine and took it from him, blindly putting it down on the counter as she pulled him in for a kiss. The little minx had kissed him into a stupor, so his older self could sneak out of the house.
Seizing his opportunity, Rumple tiptoed to the French doors and, ever so carefully, pushed down the handle and opened the door, watching them from the corner of his eye. He slipped through the door and held the handle down until the door was firmly closed, and slowly released the handle, prying through a pane in the door at them. Mindful of making noise, he snuck away from the house, back through the back garden and easily hopped the fence. Safe on the other side of the fence, Rumple let out a sigh, thankful for his stolen moment with Belle.