Nothing to do, nothing to do, nothing to do!

There was nothing to do in his tower. There was no deal to be made. There were no visitors to entertain.

But apparently...there were no dreams to be had.

He'd tried again that night. For the last few nights he'd hoped that, because of his boredom, he might be able to coax himself into sleep. The problem was that every time he lay in his bed and closed his eyes, every time he listened to the howl of the wind or the sharp ticks of the frozen snow slamming themselves into the windows of his room, he remembered why he'd chosen to stay in the mountains. In his mind's eye, he saw Belle bundled up by the fireplace, reading her book, no more than a silhouette against the bright light, but it was just enough to outline her figure. He saw her sitting across the table from him, eating her evening stew or a plum with her eggs, her nose in her book. He saw her as she flit about the Great Room, dusting their table, cleaning his collection, checking the weather behind the curtains. She never looked at him. In each image, her eyes were always diverted, concentrating on something besides him, usually a book. And it was when he began to dare the images to look at him, to interact, to have something to say that the voices crept back into his mind. They woke him from the little sleep he got, leaving him to wonder if he'd ever been asleep at all. Had he dreamed of her? Or were the pictures in his head simply his mind starting to crack from the solitude.

He could leave. It wouldn't be hard. He could leave this place and check in on Regina, mend the rift Belle's kidnapping had caused, proof to her that the woman in his castle was nothing. But the thought of leaving her alone in the solitude never allowed him to do more than think about it.

He knew one thing, he could leave this room. There was no point of laying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the whispers in his head tell him not to think of her. But where to go? What was there to do?! His tower would be bitter cold, even to him. Belle's library would be just as bad. He had a wheel here in his room, which was warm enough, but the light was poor. The wheel in the Great Room was a better choice.

Early as it was he picked himself up and changed his clothes and went down to the Great Room. The wool was in his Tower, but he could summon that easily enough to his side if he wished to-

It was early. The sun had only just begun to rise over the horizon, he'd come expecting to be alone, but the first thing he was aware of was another presence in the room. The room was still. But he could hear steady breathing, a relaxed heartbeat, and the crack of a fire. The room was delightfully warm, a sure sign that the fire had been lit for some time. Slowly, with great care, he stepped around the room, half expecting to find Regina waiting there for him in the night, but found instead, his maid.

She was propped up in her chair, wearing the pink dress he'd given her long ago in preparation for days like this, and the blanket he'd given her when she'd first moved to sit with him at dinner was drawn around her. She was asleep. Undeniably. Her head lolled to one side, the hands that she might once have had around her blanket were now at ease, not a tense muscle in them as her chest rose and fell in time with her breath.

Beautiful.

He'd foolishly tried to pretend that he didn't notice in the beginning, when she'd first arrived. And then, when he'd realized he did notice, he tried to pretend it wasn't important. But as he watched her now his mouth went dry and he knew he was nearing an opinion that was difficult to deny. She was beautiful. He could see it plain as day. He could appreciate it. He could understand looking at her now why she'd had so many suitors in her own land, why she'd been desired by so many. He could understand it, but it saddened him at the same time. Beautiful she was. But also smart and courageous. If all they ever saw was her picture-perfect beauty, then they'd missed the opportunity to see all of who she was.

Picture perfect…

Almost picture perfect. Every pretty picture always had a flaw, and so too did she. For bundled tight as she was in her blanket, he could see that at some point, her motion had freed the blanket from her shoulder.

Before he could stop himself, he'd reached out, plucked free the loose end of the blanket and gently tucked it back against her shoulder, covering her completely-

Her chest lifted, her breath became deep, and he snapped his hand back just before her eyes were open and focusing upon him through a thin veil of sleep. And there he was, caught, once more, with nothing to say.

"Last I checked, I don't pay you to sleep," he commented.

She only smiled back, her eyes still unfocused, but he could see her mind working even as sleep still clung to her. There was something painfully familiar about that look...what was it?!

"Last time I checked you don't pay me at all," she retorted before yawning before stretching this way and that so that her bindings loosened and she could stand before him. He stared so long he forgot to reply. "I was tired and cold," she explained, folding the blankets. "This is the warmest place in the castle."

"Ah, well…" how was it possible, how did anyone as beautiful as she was wake up still looking beautiful. And after sleeping in a chair no less! And what had she said? "It can never be a good thing when you are up before me." He wasn't sure if that was a suitable answer to her comment. He honestly couldn't remember what it was. But having no more words to offer her, he excused himself without further explanation back to the wheel. Once he sat and glanced over, he realized she was gone, leaving him to wonder if she'd been real to begin with, or simply a dream.

Their morning progressed as it usually would, as if he hadn't caught her sleeping by the fire and excused it away as though he hadn't caught the help sleeping on the job. After she'd disappeared, she'd reappeared with their breakfast in hand, and he'd moved the chair so that she would have a place to eat across from him. They ate in silence, just as they always did. He stared into his bowl of porridge, she ate while staring into the fireplace, eyes diverted, just like always.

But breakfast was where he found the normalcy of their day ended. For instead of going back up to his tower to work, he found he couldn't think of a single thing to do, nor of a single thing he wanted to do in the cold of that tower, and so he retired to his spinning wheel in the corner. And Belle, instead of taking their dishes away and wandering off to do her chores like normal, he watched as she returned to their room, book in hand and shawl across her shoulders, stared wistfully at the chair he'd returned to the fireplace, and then took up her spot again. An interesting development. She wasn't one to sit idle. Especially when he was in the same room, observing her whims. She moved the blanket he'd left on the back, perfectly folded for her around her body again and took out her book to read.

And that was that. That was how they spent their morning. He spun, she read. The fire cracked. The wind blew. The sun rose higher into the sky. They remained, just as they were. At one point in the morning, he thought it might end when he heard a soft thud and looked over to see that she'd closed her book. He figured that was it, that she'd go to clean or at the very least choose another, but she just sat there. Doing nothing. Staring into the fire. For a moment, he wondered if she was going to fall asleep again, the idea that she'd be so comfortable as to do that with him in the room made him almost giddy and he soon found himself hoping it would happen. But that, apparently, was where the line was drawn. She didn't fall asleep, she didn't read, she didn't get a new book or clean, she just sat there, looking into the fire. It was odd, even for her.

"It's not like you to sit around doing nothing all day," he finally commented. He could remember giving his voice permission to speak. The result was a low tone that he almost hoped she hadn't heard. But for the first time all day she stirred from her place and glanced over at him with inquisitive eyes. He glanced back. Quickly. It was only for a second before he looked back to his wheel, but it was just enough to make the eye contact he so often wanted in his dreams. "Usually you at least busy yourself with a book."

He risked another glance over and found that she was smiling, a sleepy friendly grin that made him want to abandon his work at the wheel and join her by the fire. This was the strangest of days.

"You don't usually spend your day at the wheel," she pointed out smartly.

He nodded casually. "There are always a few cold days like this in these mountains, too cold for even me to work in the tower. Usually I leave."

"Why didn't you this time?"

Her tone confused him. There was something like genuine interest in her question, but at the same time there was a sense of familiarity there too, as if she knew the answer to her own question, but wanted to hear it come from him. Did she know it was for her? That he stayed because he didn't want her to have to be alone up here? That he was afraid someone else might come in and take her away?

He chose to be quiet. He'd started the conversation on a whim, he could end it on a whim. He owed her nothing.

"Do you…do you want tea today?" she asked almost nervously, looking between him and the door to the kitchen. "The lower levels are much colder than here. If you're fine without, I'd much rather stay in here where it's warm."

"The kitchen not warm enough either, dearie?"

But he knew she was being honest. The lower levels were cold. In here, the fire had been blazing all day, the doors and curtains were closed keeping in the heat. Down there, she'd probably be able to see her breath as she waited for the water to boil. But the thing was that he did want tea. He'd done nothing all morning but spin, and at this point, it looked like he'd do nothing all afternoon but spin. He'd been looking forward to it just to break up the day a bit. And fortunately for her, if it was too cold, he was entirely capable of fixing that. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, he summoned from the kitchen the tray she normally used. Upon it sat a pot of steaming tea, the sugar, and even her beloved chipped cup.

"Thank you," she smiled, getting out of her chair eagerly. She hadn't wanted the cold, but obviously she had wanted the tea. Instead of waiting to be served they helped themselves, though he noticed that she didn't drink as he did, merely held the warm cup in her hands. He had a feeling that if he took those hands in his own, as he had the night she'd been kidnapped, he'd find they were cold. This room was warmer than the rest of the castle, but still cool for a human. He hoped she'd sleep in this room again tonight, she'd probably freeze if she stayed in the dungeon. With any luck, she'd fall asleep reading by the fire. Of course, for that to happen, she actually had to read.

"Your book isn't what you thought?" he commented as she made her way back to the chair. By the time she'd spun around he'd summoned her book into his hand. Her Handsome Hero, what kind of read would that be, he wondered. "You've barely touched it today."

"Oh! No, I finished it," she corrected.

"And you haven't replaced it yet?"

"Well," she blushed a little as she came forward again. "I do have my eye set on one about a beanstalk and an ogre, but the weather-"

"Oh, unusual! A day too cold for you to journey into a foreign tale. I never thought I'd see the day."

She gave a small shrug. It was unusual, but he understood it. Her library was similar to his own. Without a fire in the grate, it would be the same temperature up there as it was outside. If he, with his magic, wasn't going up to his tower, it was silly to think that she might. But a story about a beanstalk and an ogre…he thought he knew which one that was-

"So tell me a story," she suggested suddenly, forcing him to look at her and that blush that stretched beyond her cheek and neck to places he could only imagine. "You must have a few."

More than a few…but not so many that he should share with her. He hadn't gotten this far in life by sharing his secrets, his stories, with his maids. Of course, he also hadn't gotten this far by allowing his maids to hole themselves up in the Great Room with him all day.

"No more than most, I'm afraid."

"So…what about these?" she questioned, turning about and looking at the outer edges of his room. His collection. "There are at least a dozen stories in here. What do all these mean? Where did they come from?"

"Here! There! Everywhere!" he answered, being purposefully vague. But being vague didn't stop her from smiling and shaking her head as she moved away from him and began a slow stroll through the room, looking about as if she were seeing these artifacts for the first time as opposed to dusting them nearly every day.

"Tell me about this one," she requested suddenly, scooping up the magic lamp that he'd taken from Regina's Palace what seemed like a lifetime ago. The lamp was empty, its prisoner relocated to Regina's mirror, but that didn't necessarily mean he was willing to play around with magic that no one seemed to understand. His heart leaped into his throat at the same time he set his cup aside and leaped to her side.

"Careful!" he insisted. "Shake it around too much, and some wandering Genie will move in, and then you've got wishes." Ever so delicately, he scooped the lamp out from her hands to set it back on the pedestal. He was right, her hands were cold when she wasn't holding her tea.

"And we don't want wishes?"

"We don't want wishes," he confirmed as seriously as the plague. If she learned anything while she was with him, it should be that.

"What about this one?" she asked, moving away from the lamp and inspecting another piece. "I've never heard of a golden sheep."

He chuckled as he stepped up beside her once again. "It's called the Golden Fleece," he corrected. "It's very ancient. It's supposed to be the skin of a gold flying sheep that rescued children."

She glanced over at him suddenly with an incredulous look on her face. It was as if any second she expected him to reveal that he was jesting with her, but he couldn't. He'd spoken the truth. Admittedly he'd never gotten the damn thing to work, but he'd tracked it down himself. And small traces of magic on it even now hinted at its unrevealed power.

"But that's…that's crazy!" she exclaimed, her face falling serious when he didn't deny what he'd said. "A golden sheep?"

When he was human, he probably would have thought it was crazy too. After doing this for well over a hundred years, nothing was impossible anymore.

"It was reported to be spectacular."

She smiled as she glanced at it again, then turned back and shook her head. "I don't buy a word of it. And…I think it's called the golden fleece because someone cheated you out of whatever you paid."

That earned a laugh. One that he quickly caught and turned into a chuckle, but at its heart he'd laughed at her joke. He hadn't known she could be funny, at least not purposefully in any way that wasn't awkwardness. After one hundred years as the Dark One, he'd learned that nothing was impossible, a day alone in a room with her and nothing to do, and she'd taught him there was nothing she wasn't.

He watched her carefully as she spun back around, leaving his collection and heading off to her seat. He thought of a hundred different questions, a million different things he could say in order to make her stay, to keep their small conversation going, but before he could say anything he watched as she changed direction and went not to her chair but the other side of the fireplace. His stomach dropped as he realized what she'd seen.

"What about this?" she asked, picking it up. His cane was nearly as tall as she was, and he knew for a fact that it was light enough for her to hold with ease in her hands. He stood speechless as he watched her examine it closer, running her fingers along the notches that marked Baelfire's growth from the time he was a baby until the time he was gone. That cane never truly had a place in the castle. It had been useless by the time he and Baelfire had moved in, but he could never bring himself to part from it. Because of that it seemed to roam about like a ghost that haunted him. He'd spot it in one place and use his magic to move it to another corner of the house, then spot it again and move it again, and the process repeated itself so often that at the moment he couldn't even remember how long it had been there, leaning against the fireplace, just waiting for Belle to find.

"Where did you get this?" she asked gently, still examining it as if she'd find something more than what it actually was: a dreadful reminder.

He hadn't noticed he'd stepped closer to them until she turned and nearly slammed into his chest. She didn't jump, merely held her breath as he continued to stare at the cane, willing it to incinerate itself on the spot, knowing that because it didn't because that truly wasn't what he wanted for it. Perhaps talking with her had been a bad idea.

"There must be something interesting…" she urged. He knew her. She wasn't going to stop, not until she got an answer.

"'Tis the cane of an old coward, nothing more," he answered honestly, reaching forward and taking it from her grasp.

"Why did he give it to you?" she asked, her voice quiet but full of suspicion.

That was a story he was wholly unwilling to tell to her. It was a story he was wholly unwilling to tell anyone. So much so that he vowed never to speak of it, to let this life he led now be his past, present, and future. No one needed to know more. He'd written it down once, one time and one time only, in a Chronicle all his own and then buried in the bottom of the trunk and sworn he would never open it again. Perhaps he should find a way to do the same to the cane.

"What did he get in return?"

He jumped at the sound of her voice, a call that drew him out of his thoughts and forced him to look down at her. What were they doing? Why was he standing here talking to her as if he were that old coward all over again?

"I, uh…I asked what the man who gave that to you got in return," she echoed as if she could read his mind.

Finally, an answer he knew all too well. An embarrassing one that he wished never to let anyone see, not even her.

"Misery."

On that note, he turned his back on her and went back to his wheel, the itching in his fingers giving him the urge to spin, to clear his head away from the man who had once used that cane, and return to the one he was now. And as for her? A book about a beanstalk and an ogre…

"That should give you all the stories you desire and keep you plenty entertained for the rest of the day," he muttered, summoning the book from her library to her chair.

When she wasn't watching, he sent the cane away and allowed his fingers to work the wheel once more. It was odd how dangerous a conversation about nothing could be.


Unlike the last chapter, this one is not entirely "made up". This chapter actually features a section of a deleted scene that A&E released via twitter. It was only a snapshot, a part of the script that I honestly don't know was ever filmed or not, but I loved it so much that I took it, expanded it, and made it a chapter in Moments. And because MK&U is the companion to this fiction...here you have it! A cute little chapter that shows how she's affecting him. Fun fact, when I first released this scene in MK&U (it was a later addition to the fiction), someone guessed that she'd been awoken because he'd tried to pull the blanket back over her, I had to bite my tongue to keep the fact that the reviewer was right a surprise for YEARS! So I'm glad you can finally read it from this side!

Thank you Jennifer Baratta and Grace5231973 for your comments on the last chapter. Happy to know I nailed it. Not gonna lie, I'm nervous for the next chapter. This is the chapter that I put a twist on, a classic Rumbelle scene that isn't altered externally, but certainly altered internally. I hope you all won't mind what I did with it, but it does have me all frazzled and scared that you'll hate it. Fingers crossed! Peace and Happy Reading!