She was having a bad day. He could tell that just by the way she moved. In fact, that was nearly the only way to tell that she'd had a bad day because they rarely spoke to one another. What was odd to him was why she was having the bad day. It should have been a good day. He'd forgotten, last night, to lock her into her cell. It was purely by accident, but by the time he'd realized it, it had been too late in the night and he hadn't wanted to disturb her sleep, so he'd left the lock open. A trial run, he considered it. If she was to be here forever, perhaps having a bit of freedom to roam about wasn't the worst thing he could grant to her, so long as she could handle the privilege of it.

She could. Naturally. He'd come to find that the woman could handle just about anything that was tossed her way with impressive determination and grace. He'd let her have her freedom that night, and the next morning breakfast had shown up right on time. They ate in silence, a sort of unspoken truce between them. He pretended not to notice that she ate next to the fire instead of the kitchen, and she didn't disturb him as he ate. It wasn't ideal, but it worked well enough that it wasn't worth it to fight that battle with her. She was bold. It was the same boldness that he knew would one day be responsible for the windows opening again, or her attempt at least. He didn't understand strength like hers, but he could respect it, especially after all she was doing.

She worked like a madwoman. Funny, all his previous maids had been housekeepers and peasants, they'd all had some kind of idea of what hard work was, what it meant to be a caretaker, and yet this little princess, who he was certain had never lifted a finger before her arrival, worked harder than any of them. She was on a mission, it seemed, to purge his home of dust and dirt and clutter, and to make it into an actual home. For what purpose, he didn't know. He used only a handful of rooms, why she was so determined to keep the rest of them clean was a mystery. But she did it. In fact, she was so busy throughout the day that at night as she slept he'd had to cast a spell on all the fireplaces in the castle to light themselves when she entered a room just so that she didn't come to him and ask him to do it all the time as she moved about.

Somehow, without talking about it, they'd developed a familiar routine that kept them both amicable, but also busy. In the mornings, after breakfast, they separated until teatime. He went to work in his Tower, but kept track of her throughout the castle. At first, he'd done it to make sure she was working. Now he did it just to see what she was up to and where. She kept a tight schedule for herself, he'd noticed; one that didn't require him, thankfully. If she'd finished a book in the night, the first thing she did was exchange it so she had something to do while laundry was drying or water was boiling, and then the real work began.

Her average was about two rooms a day; sometimes if the rooms were bigger it was less, if they were smaller it was more. She was methodical about it. She would clean one room from morning until tea time, then fix them their tea, which they both now shared in the Great Room with minimal or no conversation, then back to work she went, cleaning out another room before she had to make dinner. If there was time in between, he might find her reading somewhere or doing some dusting as she hummed to herself. She fit his laundry in there somewhere before he saw her again for dinner, and that was their night. They ate, then she read by the fire as he spun at his wheel. When she was tired, she left for bed. When he was ready to work again, he went to the Tower or, if she was too distracting, he went to his bedroom, closed the door, and spun there, knowing that she wouldn't dare enter.

He hated to admit it, but they'd fallen into a comfortable schedule the two of them. It was a good way of life, one that worked for both of them, but didn't really require they go above and beyond to interact and that was just fine for him. Though he did wish she wasn't so distracting. He did wish that he hated the way the fire cast shadows over her as she read, or despised the company she afforded him during meals, or wasn't as interested in what she was doing throughout the day so he had to stop and use his cauldron and crystal ball to watch. He wished he could look into her mind and figure out why it was teatime and, instead of acting as she normally did, she was unhappy. Or worse yet…his suspicion about why she was upset was correct, and he wished that he didn't understand why.

There was another tear in her dress this afternoon. The frock was dull with fresh dust, missing another jewel, smelled musty. She didn't wash it as often as she should; probably because she had nothing else to put on. He knew what had happened, of course, he'd been watching her when it had, curious if she would get her morning room done in time for tea. Without her knowledge, he'd looked on as she'd pulled back the curtains in the room, unleashing a cloud of dust that caused her to sputter and fall and rip her dress…and then cry. That was when he'd looked away. She'd needed a moment to herself, and he felt like he was invading watching her like that. When she'd first served tea today, he'd thought she'd managed to pull herself together, but it was obvious to him that she hadn't. It upset her. He wished he could understand how she could cope so well with being captive, but a simple trip and some dust could knock her to her knees and bring her to tears. He wished so many things when it came to her.

"Servanthood not everything you hoped it would be?" he questioned, his voice higher than he'd expected it to be. She'd laughed at his jokes before. She'd smiled at his voices before. Perhaps it was enough to shake her from her stupor? Or maybe her fall had been worse than he'd thought and he should check her for injuries.

She didn't laugh. She didn't smile. Just looked wide-eyed and confused at him while his cheeks felt hot and he was grateful no one could see him blush anymore.

"You look as though you lost a fight with a dusty curtain," he added by way of explanation.

Still, no chuckle or smirk came to her. Instead, it seemed to have the opposite effect. She seemed to be even more upset than she had been before as her fingers tugged and pulled at the skirt of her dress.

"It's nothing I can't handle," she whispered, sitting back and looking away from him.

He didn't like that. He didn't like any of this. He didn't like feeling how much space was between them, he didn't like when she didn't smile, he didn't like the way she picked at her dress, or how it looked, or how he felt, or wondering why she wasn't happy, or thinking he knew, or wanting to fix it! The list went on and on.

He had to do something. The time had come to do something. Fortunately, he had figured out a way to do it so long as she wasn't too stubborn! Watching her there now as he drained his tea, he had the feeling that she might have reached a state where she wouldn't mind a little assistance. But he'd have to be quick about it. He knew her schedule and he knew the moment he set his cup down he'd have five, maybe ten, minutes before she was cleaned up and off to her next task. So he hurried…

He finished his tea and set the cup aside for her to wash, then strode out of the room. He didn't return to his Tower. He would in a few moments, but for now he went to the floor she was currently working on, to the next of the rooms that she would clean until it sparkled.

The question was how to give her something without her knowing that he'd done it. The answer he'd figured out a while ago was not to give it at all, but rather to let her find it.

In his mind, he recalled a memory he had of her from those times he'd watched her in the cauldron. In the memory, she sat behind a pile of books with her hair pulled back. She wore a blue dress. It had been intricate, there was lace on the bodice, a pattern he couldn't quite remember and he was certain there was a skirt with it, he just hadn't seen as she'd been sitting down. It didn't matter. He didn't want to recreate the dress, just the color and cut of the bodice. He wanted something familiar, something that she might look upon and remind her of home so that she'd be so entranced she'd have to put it on. He could have put a compulsion spell on it to do that for him, and he wasn't above doing that if necessary, but he wanted to try without first. He wanted to see what would happen.

Time ticked on. He had only a few moments left and with that time he worked his magic, spun a dress out of thin air the color of the sky with an undershirt white as snow and blue shoes to match. It was a simple dress; more than a peasant's scraps but less than what she wore now. He had no doubt it would fit her; magic was funny like that. But he did wonder if it was enough to make her put it on. He hid the clothes inside the closet of the room, next to some of the old moth-eaten ones that belonged to the previous owner of the room she'd be coming to any minute, then used his magic to take himself up to the Tower so that they wouldn't cross paths.

He hadn't run there, but he felt as though he had. His heart pounded inside his chest as he bolted for the cauldron and summoned the image of the room. His trap good and set, there was plenty to do, but he couldn't take his eyes off the cauldron, couldn't stop his curiosity. The moment she walked into the room, he forgot to breathe. He knew her schedule. He knew how she did things and moved about the room to clean, but when he saw her open the curtains first instead of last he began to hope that she might any second open that closet and see what he'd left her. But instead, she followed her routine perfectly, aside from those curtains. She stripped the bed, setting the sheets and blankets aside for the wash, she righted the furniture, arranging it so that it looked welcoming and inviting, then she did the dusting. The scrubbing of the floor was the last thing she'd do, right before…

He bit himself as she opened the closet doors. He didn't know what he'd expected, perhaps that she might open the closet and be awestruck by his experiment? That her eyes would water and she'd gasp with delight or wonder, that she'd smile again?! All he knew was that he felt disappointed the moment she opened the closet and nothing special happened. She rifled, just as she always rifled, preparing to air everything out and wash what she could.

And then there it was. The reaction he wanted. Her eyes didn't fill with tears, she didn't drop and shatter a teacup dramatically, and her eyes didn't go wide. But he saw her open her mouth in what had to be a gasp. She seemed to slow as she looked over what she'd found before her, looked suspiciously at the new garment surrounded by the old.

"Take it…" he muttered as she reached out to run her hands over it. And that was when the spell was broken. It was his own words that had done it, that made him pause to consider what he was doing and what he was planning on doing. He was watching her. In the midst of all the work he had to do, he'd just spent damn near an hour watching his maid clean a room and find a dress. And what was he going to do now that she'd found it? Was he going to watch her try it on? He could barely stand to watch her when she'd gotten upset of the curtains, was he really the kind of man to sit there and watch her undress and dress?

It was almost painful to wave his hand over the cauldron and watch her vanish. He wanted to watch. He wanted to see. Not to infringe upon her privacy, it made his stomach turn to know some wizards used their magic for those purposes. Dark One or not, he had some honor to him. But he did want to know if she was going to take it or not. He wanted to know how it fit, how it looked. He wanted to see her smile again.

And on that note, he turned away. He went to his worktable and began doing what he did best: magic. He rolled his eyes at his behavior, at the way he felt like she'd gotten him all twisted up inside and the way he kept thinking that he'd have to be surprised. His excitement over that was nearly enough to make him go back and start watching again. Damn thoughts…he practically threw the knife he was using onto the table as he rubbed his head. There was no way to win this. If he sat here and continued to work, it was because he wanted to be surprised by her. If he got up and went to the cauldron to watch it was to find out if he'd made her day better. No matter what he did he would lose…

So he wouldn't do either.

He knew her schedule. She had a few hours before she was done with her work and began to prepare dinner. He could remove temptation entirely just by going downstairs and sitting at his wheel and spinning. He could empty his mind, get these thoughts, the excitement, the panic he felt out, and just exist without her for a few hours. Yes, that was the best thing he could do now. Something for himself.

But his plan backfired. He expected to be alone in the Great Room, with her off cleaning or wearing her new dress or doing whatever it was she did…reading perhaps. But he was halfway to the wheel when he realized the fireplace was lit and sensed movement in the chair beside it. Unpredictable as ever, it appeared she'd had the same thought that he had and quit work early. And he should have commented on that. He should have made some statement about not paying her to sit there and read the book, but he felt himself break out into a cold sweat when he realized…

She was wearing the dress.

Cora would have turned for him to see it. She would have squared her shoulders and drawn his attention to her with a smile. Belle didn't need all that. She didn't need to stand and she didn't need to twirl. She just had to sit there, wearing a simple blue dress that brought out the color of her eyes; a ray of blue light against his red chair. He'd had an idea of how she might look in it from the memory he had. But it paled in comparison. His idea was nothing compared to how she looked. She was so beautiful she made his mouth go dry. It fit her just the way he wanted it to and yet not the way he'd needed it to. It followed her curves a little too perfectly, though her shoulders were now covered it dipped just a little lower than her gown had in the front and the parting of the blouse led his eyes down to the lace that held the bodice together, and he realized that with one pull of that string he could-

He jumped when the clock chimed. But he didn't need to worry that she'd noticed, it was the first time he realized that she'd been staring at him all the while he'd stared at her and she'd jumped too. And as she looked around, doing her best to get her bearings back, he took advantage of the opportunity to pretend as though nothing had happened, and went to sit by his spinning wheel. He wouldn't say anything to her. He couldn't. For the first time in a long while, he didn't trust what would come out of his mouth. Spinning was the proper outlet. It always had been. Temptingly beautiful as she was, he needed to get back to his work, and so did she.

But work for her meant dinner, and it was still too early. Whether he wanted to or not, as the wheel rotated before him, he found himself looking back at her as she wiggled deeper into his chair and pulled her book back onto her lap.

She was smiling again.

It made him smile too.

He wasn't being as careful with her as he'd planned.


When I was writing Moments, I had the sense to recognize that even though there might be future flashbacks with Rumple and Belle that would need added along as I went, Belle receiving the blue dress wasn't something I could skip over. I knew we might see it in a later episode, but chose to write it anyway telling myself it could be there as a placeholder, at least, if it was needed in the future. Looking back, I'm glad that I wrote it the way I wrote it. So much so that I'm glad we never got to see it in the series because I think if I had to replace my version of how she got it with anything A&E would have done, I'd have cried. I would have done it! Make no mistake! But I'd have cried.

Thank you to Grace5231973 and Jennifer Baratta for your very kind reviews on the last chapter. I hope you'll enjoy seeing this "moment" from Rumple's perspective. I had a lot of fun writing in his growing attraction for her here in many ways because by this point I wasn't just going for "she's pretty" and "I like it when she smiles". By this point, I was aiming to have all kinds of attraction at least in development. That really came through in this chapter for me. We don't just see the physical (you are pretty) attraction, but mental attraction (he's noted she likes to read and keep her mind busy), sexual attraction (yeah, he knows what would happen if he pulls that string), and even an attraction to her personality (he has respect for her boldness). I wanted to show that he is drawn to her in every way humanly possible. It's all part of getting that layering going! Peace and Happy Reading!