"If your own son couldn't bring out the good in you…who will?"

Fuck Regina. Fuck last night. Fuck those damn words that he couldn't get out of his fucking head, and fuck the fucking Dark Ones who also wouldn't get out of his head!

If his own son couldn't bring out the good in him? How was he to know if Bae could bring out the good in him? He hadn't tried, not since Regina and her mother had broken in. And before then, he thought they'd been getting somewhere. He remembered feeling that as he was dying. Baelfire had informed him that he'd still been angry, but he'd still taken his hand, hadn't he? He'd still been willing to fight for him, still sailed him home? There had been promise there before he and Emma had burst back into the shop and discovered what he'd done. What he'd done…that had been good. They could whine about it and lecture him and scream at him all they wanted that it wasn't, but he knew in his heart that he had made the right decision. And he'd still helped, hadn't he? When Regina had been after Mary Margaret, he'd played his role! That had been "good."

Not good enough, apparently. Not by Regina's standards, hypocritical as they might have been. Certainly not by Bae's, either. He hadn't been to see him since that day. It had been good, and yet…

Not good enough.

Not good enough for Bae.

Not good enough to keep dark dreams of killing Henry at bay.

He couldn't go to the shop; he was so angry he was sure that he'd destroy something if he went. Instead, he found himself back home, in the middle of the morning, sitting in his basement, jacket, and vest shed as he sat before his wheel and spun.

His fingers flew nearly as fast as the wheel did. Whether he wanted it to or not, magic seeped into the wool, and he knew that what was coming out the other end was gold rather than thread. He couldn't find it in him to care. He sat there, trying to breathe, trying to empty his thoughts. Spinning always worked in the past, and yet…the silence in the house was painful. The creek of the wheel and ever-present reminder that he was the only one in the house, the only one in the room, the only one who cared one way or another what he dreamed at night because the only other person in the world who might actually care, the only other person in the world who would have seen his actions with Mary Margaret and Cora as "good enough," she was…

He let out a roar as Belle's face came to mind, and the Dark One's laughed. He only just barely managed to push himself away from the wheel before sweeping magic out over his worktable, destroying what was around him and splattering ink over his shirt. He grit his teeth together and leaned over the table.

Belle. Perhaps that was the actual problem in all of this, the thing that was missing. His anchor…

He'd been alone for so long. For most of his life, he'd been by himself. And then, a few weeks with Belle and now without her, he was in turmoil again. He was without an ally, without a defense, without even a way to sleep at night or dream peaceful dreams instead of murder if she wasn't there!

Enough. It was enough!

He knew what the Dark Ones were doing. He knew what they wanted him to do just based on the images they'd crafted for him as he slept, and though he knew that he didn't know how to handle Henry Mills being both his grandson and the boy from the Seer's prophecy, he knew that he didn't want to do what they were urging him to do. He didn't want to hurt Henry. In fact, he wouldn't mind terribly if what he saw in his dream was actually a vision and it came to pass. It was all foggy and hazy now, but he knew that while they'd been celebrating, there had been other people in that room. Baelfire and Emma had been there, maybe the Charmings, hell, maybe even Regina. The Charmings and Regina, even Emma on some level, he could take them or leave them, but in the shop with Baelfire and Henry, three generations! He felt a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth as he realized he wouldn't so much mind that.

But killing Henry…he knew without a doubt that Baelfire would mind that particular action. He knew that he minded because the truth was that if he didn't mind it, the boy might have already been dead by now. He liked the boy, truly he did, but not more than he liked the idea of living and getting to know his son. If it weren't for the fact that Henry was Baelfire's son, his own grandson, he might have already done something about the boy from the prophecy to save his own skin. But now, seeing as how he was his grandson…that little fact kept stopping him short. Was that because he loved Baelfire? Or was it something more? Could it be a familial instinct he hadn't known existed inside of him? Or was it just something borne out of laziness and fear?

He honestly wasn't sure the motivations. All he knew was only one solid thing…he didn't want to harm the boy, no matter how much the Dark Ones inside of him did to preserve themselves.

He swallowed a thick knot of emotion caught in his throat. He needed to get himself under control, to a place of stability. If he couldn't manage that internally, he could at least do it externally. A wave of magic fixed what he'd had on the table just as quickly as he'd destroyed it. Except, of course, for the new ink stain on his shirt, but that was easily rectified as he grabbed his vest and jacket, wandered upstairs to change...and stopped.

Before he could make his way to the bedroom, a door at the end of the hall caught his attention, and he found himself drawn to it as something in his mind began to spark to life. It felt safe in this space. It was a room he was confident he'd never been in with Belle, and therefore it shouldn't have reminded him of her. But it did remind him of Baelfire. It would be a perfect place for his son to stay if he wasn't so insistent on staying at Granny's with that fiancé of his. Sitting in this space, he could easily see how it would make quite the guest room for anyone brave enough to venture into the Dark One's home.

Anyone…

Belle haunted him, it seemed. She was determined to occupy every thought in his mind and every space in his home, whether he'd been there with her on not. He knew it because suddenly he had an idea. No. It was better than an idea. It was a solution. Not to everything, not to the unexpected puzzle the Seer had dealt him, but…yes, in some way, it might even help with that.

He needed Belle in his life. She was his light. She was the one that kept the Dark Ones at bay. Belle was his moral compass whether he wanted her to be or not. If anyone could keep him on the straight and narrow where Henry was concerned, it was her. If anyone could shut the damn Dark Ones in his head up…well, he already knew that she could do that. If he was this far gone after being apart from her for only a week or so, then he couldn't wait anymore. He needed her to be a part of his life again. Even in the state that she was in.

The nurse had suggested that he could stop by and see her, and they'd see how the interaction went. She was hopeful that it would be better and that her meds were stable enough for her to be discharged. Unlike Belle, he was aware that there was no other place to discharge her to, just as the nurse had said. Her father hadn't been an option, not in his mind. And he hadn't wanted to bring her back here, into his home and his room for fear he'd scare her, but here, this room…this room was perfect.

Or it could be! If he got some new bedding, perhaps added a bookshelf and some of her favorite books. He could put her clothes in the closet for her, something comfortable and he knew she liked. It would be a fresh start in every sense of the word. Not only would he have to teach her everything she'd learned just after the Curse broke, but he'd have to teach her about himself, show her who he was, and this time…

This time he felt like he had a road map. He'd already done this before. Twice! He hadn't even known he'd done it the first time around, and now she had no memories of all the discussions they'd had of when things were good and bad, and she told him things she liked and didn't like. It was like taking a test with the answers in the palm of his hand. And with this room, he could give her a safe place for her to come back to at night, to feel like herself, and have her own space. He could give her everything, keep her close to him so that the Darkness stayed at a distance. It would keep him plenty busy, that was for sure, at least until he found a cure or…or she fell in love with him, and True Love's Kiss worked. He had Baelfire back now, and he had no use of his magic. A few nights alone in his basement as she slept, and he might just figure out the way to unbind the Dark One Curse from himself. If kissing her and losing his magic in exchange for breaking her Curse was the answer, then that was a price he was willing to pay.

But he was getting ahead of himself. He was sitting in this drab space with ink splattered across his shirt, grinning ear to ear at the thought of what might transpire if he rearranged his life and had her back, but he hadn't even seen her yet. That was the first step in all of this, the one thing that he knew the nurse would insist upon before plans could be made. He'd had the open invitation now for some time. He knew things weren't perfect with Regina, certainly not with Baelfire, but if not now, then when?

He had to keep trying with Belle. She was the answer to all of life's riddles. She brought out the good in him that he so desperately needed, soothed his anger and his tantrums. If these last few days without her had taught him anything, it was this: Cora's love wasn't worth effort; Belle's was.

This filler chapter was brought to you by...Rumple's shirt! Yep, that's it. The one detail that changed and meant I couldn't let Rumple go straight from the dock to visit Belle was his freaking shirt. If you look, the shirt is a different color in that scene than it is in all the other scenes. And generally, with a problem like that, I'd just say, "yay, I get to add an extra day into the timeline." Wrong! Because Regina is, in fact, wearing the same clothes in that scene that she is later in the day. This meant that to make things work. I had to create a reason for Rumple to want to change clothes. Fortunately, there was space for that. Not something I'm happy with, but Rumple had to mentally make a plan. He had to decide he wanted to go to Belle, bring her home, and pursue her. Regina's remark in the previous chapter gave me the excuse to get his temper going, and I think we all know that once the temper gets going and he gets sloppy, messes are made, and just like that...new shirt and a new plan.

Thank you so much for your review of the previous chapter, Grace. I'm so thrilled that I've still got people out there reading as we drift into some of the un-fun stuff. Still, I hope you'll like this filler chapter and my not so clever way of getting a new shirt on Rumple so that I can make everything make sense. I suppose the easiest thing would have been to simply ignore it, but then, isn't attention to detail why we're here? We're back tomorrow with a familiar scene! Peace and Happy Reading!