Disclaimer: As you can probably tell from the fact I'm writing fanfiction, I don't own Once Upon a Time or any of its characters.

"Belle you are the worst co-pilot in the world," Mr. Gold declared.

Belle glanced up from the novelization of "Inception", "What? We're driving on the freeway; I don't have to direct you anywhere."

"We're almost to New York City and I've been asking you which exit we have to take for the past five minutes."

"But we're not going to New York City."

He sighed, "Belle, we've been over this; New York City is where Bae is."

"According to your globe thingy. But this," she stretched her foot and lazily tapped the dream-catcher hanging from the rearview mirror, "Says he's in Tallahassee."

"Says his heart is in Tallahassee," Mr. Gold corrected, "Which means he may or may not be."

Belle grumbled incoherently and slouched in the passenger's seat. Even while aggravated she was beautiful, bare feet and denim-clad legs resting on the dashboard. Her curls fell around her face angelically, the sunlight catching them so it looked like they had strands of gold in them. She glanced at him.

"Stop staring at me and pay attention to where you're going," she chastised playfully.

"The cars will veer out of the way if they know what's good for them," he insisted.

"Out of the way of a little yellow bug?" She scoffed.

He glanced down at the radio, "Why do you get to pick the music, anyway? You're busy reading."

"I can read and listen at the same time," she informed him.

"You cannot," he protested, "And anyways I am not listening to Taylor Swift the entire trip."

"Course not, honey. We can switch to Adele once we get to West Virginia."

"We are not going to Tallahassee, and I'm not listening to this misandristic musical genre traitor- Don't change it yet, I like this song."

Belle's hand hovered over the mode button, then retracted. She rolled her eyes and turned back to her book, but Mr. Gold wasn't done having her attention yet.

"She. Wears. High. Heels. I. Wear. Sneeeea-kers."

Belle burst out laughing at her husband's butchering imitation of Taylor Swift. He only grew more obnoxious once he realized how much it amused her.

"She's. Cheer. Cap'in. And. I'm. On-the. Bleeeea-chers. Ladadadada- CAN'T YOU SEE THAT YOU BELONG WITH MEEEEEEE, YOU BELONG WITH-"

His solo was cut off by Belle's lips on his and his hands dropped from the wheel. She clamored onto his lap and he reclined the seat a bit, getting a good grip on her hair as she straddled him. He immersed himself in her, her taste, her smell, her touch.

"Rumple…" She moaned, then pulled away, tears springing to her eyes, "Rum…"

Mr. Gold bolted upright, head twisting and turning in confusion. He wasn't in a car; he was on the couch in his house. There was no Belle to tease about her music preferences, or to make laugh, or even to simply watch her read. Mr. Gold curled in around himself, feeling as though if he didn't physically hold himself together he would fall apart.

Sobbing over a dream was not a very good way to start the day.

II

Emma woke in the disorienting haze of a traveler, a feeling she had never gotten over no matter how many years she spent as a vagabond. She thought she was back in Mary Margaret's apartment, ready to rise to another day of being sheriff… But when she opened her eyes it was to a thatched roof and a thick wool blanket that still smelled like sheep.

"Morning."

She glanced over to see Mary Margaret easing herself back down onto the cot. Mary Margaret winced.

"I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"Nah, I woke up on my own," she propped herself up onto her elbows, "What about you? You ever get to sleep?"

Mary Margaret shook her head, quiet for a moment before changing the subject, "I got us breakfast."

Emma raised an eyebrow trepidatiously, "What is it, unicorn?"

"Don't be barbaric, Emma," Mary Margaret scolded softly, before setting a bowl down between them, made up of what looked like dried fruit and stale bread lumps, "You don't happen to know where Belle ran off to, do you?"

The blonde shook her head, "Off to go make a cripple walk or a blind girl see?" She guessed. Mary Margaret rolled her eyes.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to help them out a bit, after feeding us and letting us spend a night in their shelter."

"I'm just saying the woman who's apparently big and scary to you guys doesn't seem to be big and scary that often. Just when she has to be."

Mary Margaret grinned, "Welcome to the politics of the Caretaker."

The curtain was pulled aside and Belle's head popped through. She saw Emma and Mary Margaret and grinned.

"I found weapons," she said cheerily.

She came through carrying a long box that, if her waddling was any indication, was a little heavy. She set it down with a huff nearby.

"I didn't know what you two wanted," she explained, "Bows and quivers were a given, but I wasn't sure about the blades. Emma, did you like your father's sword?"

No, she liked her gun. Her gun was her weapon. She knew how to use a gun, very very well. Guns beat swords, everyone knew that.

"It was alright," she said and Belle shrugged, sitting down on the cot.

"Maybe you'll find one that suits you better."

Mary Margaret offered the bowl to Belle and she accepted some bread and a few pieces of something vaguely apricot-y.

"Did you sleep any?" Mary Margaret asked her.

Belle shook her head, "A little, but I had the weirdest dream about Rumple singing Taylor Swift and driving Emma's car…" She quickly moved on, "Lancelot had a map and helped me find the best way to the castle. If we keep pace it should only take us a couple of days at most. You're probably familiar with it, Snow, it follows the Narcissus river most of the way."

"Yeah, that's a really good route," Mary Margaret beamed at Lancelot's wisdom, "Pretty level, plenty of fresh water and food… It'll be like a hike."

Emma had never been much of a nature girl, but if it got her back to Henry she could put up with bites, itches and going behind a bush for a few nights.

They finished breakfast and picked their weapons. Emma took a sword that she thought was pretty good; felt easy to swing, and she figured that was important. She also chose a bow with some arrows because it was kind of like an advanced slingshot, or a medieval gun. Mary Margaret had similar choices, while Belle selected two hand weapons, a thinner lighter sword and a smaller curved blade. They gathered what few belongings they had as well as the supplies Belle had been given, and made their way out of the hut.

Mulan and Lancelot waited by the sentry's post, and he went to embrace Mary Margaret.

"Stay safe, old friend," he wished warmly.

"You too," Mary Margaret murmured, "I'm happy to see you again, even if it was for only a short while."

"I'm sure this won't be our last meeting," he said prophetically.

Mulan stormed up to Belle, frowning, "You have to let me come with you," she insisted, "I know this land with all of its increased dangers. Even if you do hold the power of the Dark One, you'll need a guide."

"We'll be fine, Mulan," Belle assured her, "We know the way, and between the three of us we can face whatever challenges get between us and home."

Her face clouded with frustration and Belle stepped closer, lowering her voice.

"I know the situation with Philip is difficult, but running away from your feelings won't help matters."

Mulan stared at her, "What- How do you-"

"It's a little obvious," Belle said sympathetically, wincing at her friend's discomfort. She squeezed Mulan's arm lightly, "The pain will pass, and you'll have your own love to fight for some day." She pulled away, leaving Mulan shell-shocked.

With a few more farewells, the trio embarked on their journey to a familiar place, a place that had once been home to Snow and baby Emma.

IIII

"Alright, dear, I'm off," Belle announced, an eager bounce in her step as she moved through the grand hall.

"Try not to die," Rumplestiltskin mumbled offhandedly and Belle stopped, glancing over at the spinning wheel.

As she figured, he hadn't even slowed down his work. She sighed, making a detour over to him and bending down. His hand hovered but did not turn the wheel again, the straw in his hand remaining straw. Bit by bit he was drawn back out to reality and Belle patiently waited, just as he did whenever he abruptly pulled her out of a book. He finally met her eyes.

"I'm going to Lake Nostos to get that water you wanted; I shouldn't be gone long," she elaborated.

"Mmm, my words still stand, then."

She planted her hands on either of his thighs.

"Kiss me good luck?" She asked. Rumplestiltskin grinned, and he leaned it to kiss her cheek.

She turned at the last moment before contact and caught the faintest feel of slightly chapped but surprisingly soft lips on her own before Rumplestiltskin jerked back. He glared at her.

"Belle…" He said admonishingly.

"I wasn't even technically kissing you!" She whined in dismay.

And yet there was the pink stealing out from the green and the gold, a glimpse at a humanity she might never see in its fullness. He unconsciously wiped at his mouth and hurt flared in Belle's chest.

"You know I would if I could," he insisted softly, "But I can't. Not right now."

"Being the most powerful sorcerer in all the realms, you'd think you would have some solution to true love's kiss," she muttered.

He lifted one shoulder, "You'd think, but true love is the most powerful magic of all," he turned away from his wheel, "Dearie you know I've tried."

"Not particularly hard," she grumbled. He scowled. "I mean, as long as you get to kiss me you don't seem to care, because you can kiss me all over my body save my lips. I can't kiss any part of you."

"Belle we've been over this," he said tiredly, "It's because you're the curse breaker and I am the cursed. True love's kiss won't break a curse if there's no curse to be broken, but if there is-"

"I just think if you put an ounce of the effort you invest into the grand scheme into finding a way to properly kiss your wife you would have found an answer by now!"

Rumplestiltskin's eyes blazed with a sudden intense heat and Belle knew she had just hit a nerve. She folded her arms and arched an eyebrow in challenge. Apparently she wasn't going anywhere quite yet.

III

No one noticed how much of an impact Belle's presence had on the town until she was gone, David pondered as he made his way towards the pawnshop. It seemed as though without her to balance him out Mr. Gold was reverting into whatever monster he had been before. It had been two, maybe three days and already he was terrorizing Storybrooke with a spitefulness that predated his engagement to Belle. Rumplestiltskin hadn't exactly been a docile lamb before, but now David feared for the lives of the entire population instead of just a small segment.

"Gold, we need to talk," David insisted as he came through the door.

Mr. Gold appeared through the back room's curtain, sizing the man up.

"I wasn't aware that the position of sheriff was decided via bloodline… Or perhaps everything will go back to the familial transfers that governed our old world," he commented sourly.

David didn't bother justifying his decision to Rumplestiltskin, a man who clearly preferred anarchy to any other kind of "-archy", "Sidney told me you turned someone into a monkey."

"He was screeching like one."

"Because his girlfriend was kicked out of her apartment."

"I'm pretty sure Bengal tigers aren't suitable residential pets, even if they do double as a body guard," Mr. Gold shrugged, "Well if Sidney is reunited with his old master, why can't he simply change him back?"

"Because apparently genie magic is limited to their lamp," David said tiredly, glaring at Mr. Gold, "…which you have."

Mr. Gold smirked, "Oh…right."

"And besides that you've been making veiled threats to Regina…"

"Nothing veiled about what I threatened."

"And you took Moe French's tongue."

"He can have it back when he stops yelling at me for Belle's accidental departure."

"And when a kid's ball came rolling towards you you purposefully kicked it farther away and then kept walking."

Mr. Gold appeared to at least be remorseful over that last grievance, "…I've been having a bad day."

"So has everyone," David groused, approaching the counter and leaning on his arms.

A head popped up out of a nearby cauldron, swiveling to examine David through narrowed eyes. It gave a low grumble of disapproval, obviously awoken from its afternoon nap. David sighed, sweeping a hand towards the cauldron.

"And who the hell is this?"

Mr. Gold glanced at the cat, "…Figaro?"

"And who's Figaro? Someone who forgot to pay a debt? A perceived threat? A boy who just looked at you the wrong way?"

"No, it's Belle's cat."

"You turned someone into a cat for your wife?"

"No, he's just a normal cat," Mr. Gold insisted defensively, "He's always been a cat."

Figaro huffed irritably before his head disappeared back inside of the cauldron, attempting to sleep while the confrontation continued. David shook off the accusation; he wouldn't put it past Rumplestiltskin to turn someone into an animal just because they crossed his path. His voice softened towards the pawnbroker.

"I think I have an idea about how to get our wives and my daughter back."

Mr. Gold sneered, "Oh do tell," he muttered.

David tossed the item he had been holding onto the counter; the hat that had taken their loved ones away from them in the first place.

"You have magic," he stated, "You could make it work. We could go and get them, bring them home…"

Mr. Gold stared at the battered top hat, but there was no devious smile, no glint in his eye that reassured David that what he had recovered was the key to a reunion. He shook his head.

"Laws of the hat wouldn't allow it," he said bitterly, "Same number in as out. Even if we found a way around that, there's no guarantee we could make it back to Storybrooke. One town with magic would not be enough to make a door to this world." He pushed the hat away, as if the very sight of it made him nauseous.

David unconsciously picked it up again, a fist tightening around the brim, "There's got to be another way," he insisted.

Mr. Gold laughed dryly, "Dearie, I've spent lifetimes trying to get to a land without magic. A round trip would be near impossible."

"So you're giving up on them?" David growled.

He smirked, "Call it what you like. I have other priorities."

"Above getting Belle back?!"

He paused for the breadth of a heartbeat, "…yes."

David stared disbelievingly at Mr. Gold, unable to comprehend what priority would come before his own wife, a wife he had broken down at the loss of. What could possibly tie him so concretely to a land, without magic, that he'd refuse to even try and find a way to bring Belle back?

"Has anyone tried to cross the town line yet?" Mr. Gold inquired suddenly.

The question threw David off, "Yeah, the dwarves investigated it."

"And?"

"And Sneezy's convinced he's Tom Clark," David furrowed his brow, "You don't happen to have any memory returning potions, do you? Blue didn't seem to have an answer."

Mr. Gold stared at him, his face expressionless and his body still, "…I see."

Internally, he was screaming. Not only could he not go after Belle for fear of not being able to return… But he couldn't even go after Baelfire without the fear of losing his memories.

II

Emma trailed behind Mary Margaret and Belle as they journeyed through the woods. Not because the hike was too much, hell no. Wasn't even because they knew what they were doing and where they were going. Emma was just so used to observing, and the pair of them made an interesting match.

The two women who only had a few conversations together in Emma's knowledge were yakking it up like old friends, following the trail and not seeming too concerned about getting lost or attacked. Far as Emma could tell they were catching up since the last time they saw each other…and weren't cursed.

"So everything since Emma came to town you were awake for?"

"Yep."

"Charming coming out of his coma?"

"I called it."

"The election for sheriff?"

"We couldn't let Regina continue to control law enforcement."

"The meeting at the diner when you told me to come clean to Kathyrn."

"Trust me, that was not an easy judgment call."

"The entire murder frame job."

"If it was Rose and Mr. Gold we wouldn't have gone near the case."

"…you went after a man with an axe?"

"Pinocchio, and we've already made amends."

Mary Margaret turned to Belle, a look of envy in her expression, "You've had months to be with your husband knowing the truth."

"Thankfully, yes."

"And you got some the morning before we left."

Emma stumbled over herself, but Belle hardly missed a beat.

"It was just a victory quickie. Ten minutes, fifteen tops." Her head whipped towards Mary Margaret, eyes wide with horror, "Are you saying you and Charming didn't…reunite before we left?"

"We were busy with other things, like not letting the town fall apart!"

"Then multi-task! Rum and I plan all the time while we're in the middle of it."

"Okay, guys, please," Emma interrupted, "I know I have to get used to a lot of things, like the fact I'm Snow White's daughter, but fairy tale princesses talking about "getting some" is crossing an ethical line."

Mary Margaret flushed with embarrassment. Belle grimaced, "Sorry, Emma," she murmured. She glanced over her shoulder, "We could sing if that's what you prefer," she offered.

Emma winced, "No thanks… Not a huge fan of musicals."

"You sure? I don't want to disappoint you… Though I suppose that happened when you realized "beast" was only a metaphor."

Mary Margaret glanced skeptically at Belle, "You sure about that? I mean not in Storybrooke, but the scales and the eyes and the claws in our land…" she shuddered.

Belle looked offended, "Well it's not all about appearances, is it?"

"No, but appearance helps," Mary Margaret nudged Belle playfully, "Come on… Look me in the eye and tell me you prefer how he looked here to how he looks now."

Belle bit her lip, ducking her head bashfully.

"Ha! I knew it!"

"I love him no matter what form he takes! …I just don't mind that his teeth are white now."

Mary Margaret beamed, shaking her head, "Well I'm glad that you were able to get past all of that; I can't for the life of me imagine how you could love…" She pinched her nose to change the pitch of her voice, " "All magic comes with a price"."

Belle's jaw dropped at Mary Margaret's mockery, hitting her playfully.

"Oh and your husband's so much better, all text book hero without a hint of an element of enigmaticness. Mr…" Belle's voice lowered until it was a rumble, " "I will find you, I will always find you"."

Mary Margaret lunged towards Belle, who danced away giggling. In a flash, Mary Margaret had unsheathed her sword, pointing it towards Belle.

"No one mocks my husband!" She declared.

Belle raised her eyebrows in a silent "oh really?". She unsheathed her rapier, pointing it right back at Mary Margaret.

"And only I get to mock mine," she insisted.

And suddenly they were swinging away at each other, the forest echoing with the sounds of metal clashing against metal and their giggles. It looked pretty serious despite their smiles; Emma worried that at any moment they'd drop the playfulness and start actually attacking each other. If this was friendship in their world, she'd hate to see what enemies did to each other.

They stopped as the sun began to set, choosing a giant clearing as their camp-out.

"Alright, so I'm new to this warrior princess thing," Emma began, "But isn't being way out in the open kind of an easy way to be spotted?"

"It's also an easy way to spot anything coming for us," Mary Margaret explained, "In a forest there's plenty of places to hide."

"Besides, if Mulan is to be believed the only civilization remaining is the one we left," Belle piped up, shrugging off the bag of supplies, "Much better to see a monster coming than to be caught by surprise." She glanced at Mary Margaret, "Do you and Emma want to set up while I go see what I can find?"

Mary Margaret met Belle's eyes and a look passed between them that Emma couldn't quite decipher. It was over in a second, with Mary Margaret nodding her agreement.

"Alright," Mary Margaret turned to Emma, "Let's get some firewood and see if there's anything around here that lends itself to making shelter."

Emma followed Mary Margaret's lead, skirting the forest and picking up broken branches. She kept stealing glances at her…mother, watching how sure of herself she seemed. Especially for a princess, yanno, in the wilderness.

"Did you and Belle go into Fairytale Girl Scouts together or something?" Emma asked.

Mary Margaret smirked, leaning down to pick up a particularly thick branch, "No. It was a lot of trial and error, figuring out how to survive in the woods on my own."

"On your own? What about the seven dwarves?"

"Originally eight, and it was much later when I ran into Leroy. I was on my own, and then I was with Ruby for a bit, then on my own again, and finally stayed with them," she shrugged, "It's been a long road."

Emma glanced incredulously at Mary Margaret. This girl could give her post-foster-home years a run for their money, "Okay, and Ruby is…?"

"Red Riding Hood."

"I could see that."

"…and the wolf."

Emma stopped in her tracks, trying to mull that one over. Apparently she shouldn't have just skimmed Henry's book and should have actually read the whole thing.

Mary Margaret was ecstatic at Emma's sudden curiosity about herself and the others from the Enchanted Forest. It meant she was opening up to where she came from, to who she was and to who they were. She was only too happy to tell Emma whatever she wanted to know, no matter how painful or embarrassing it was on her own behalf. Emma seemed appalled at the Evil Queen's reason for vengeance against Snow White, even when Mary Margaret insisted it was more Cora's fault (though Regina didn't see it that way).

The stories helped to pass the time and they soon had enough kindling for the night, and a good amount of leaves for bedding. Mary Margaret showed Emma how to start a fire with flint rock and a blade. It was dark by the time Belle returned, carrying something in what suspiciously looked like a section of pelt.

"What's for dinner?" Emma asked blandly.

Belle shook her head, "Trust me, ignorance is bliss in the case of what's brought back from a hunt," she knelt down beside the fire, unfurling the pelt to reveal neat chunks of meat, "I was thinking we could make shish kebobs. I also fetched some water from that stream we've been following and plenty of pine needles for some tea."

Emma smirked, "Well aren't we civilized."

Belle grinned and Mary Margaret snickered, apparently prepared for shish kebobs as she pulled out sticks suitable for roasting. They could've been making s'mores and out camping at a KOA instead of on a transdimensional mission, and Emma was kind of glad for the easy going atmosphere. It was…comforting, in a way Emma couldn't pinpoint. Like hanging out with Henry, or watching a movie on the couch back when Mary Margaret was just her roommate.

Like how she had felt with Neal.

"So I'm just really curious how you're going to make tea without any pots or kettles, or even cups."

Emma was drawn back to the present, Mary Margaret testing her meat while Belle daintily nibbled at hers. She grinned mischievously.

"Oh, you know, just grab them."

There was a plume of purple smoke, and then three teacups and a kettle sat in front of her. She blushed, bowing her head shamefully.

"Alright, fine, I abuse my power," she mumbled, before filling the kettle and putting it over the fire.

"I approve of the abuse," Mary Margaret declared.

Emma stared at the cups thoughtfully, "So if you can do stuff like that, then why are we walking to the castle? Couldn't you just, like, poof us there?"

Belle sighed, "Magic is complicated…it always comes with a price, even if that price is just energy at the expense of the user. Summoning a few items from a location you can picture hardly takes any. Teleporting three people miles away? I wouldn't be up for much of anything for a good day or so afterwards." She tapped the mark on her arm, "Rumple and I share power, even though he can limit me if he desires. I don't know what he's dealing with, and he doesn't know what I'm dealing with, so we both have to be careful. Even the Dark One can overspend his magical energy…and it's not pretty when you magically exhaust yourself."

Emma chewed at her shish kebob thoughtfully, "So checks and balances."

"Exactly."

The dinner continued and concluded, the trio sitting around the fire reluctant to turn in for the long night. The hair on the back of Emma's neck stood up as she heard a howl off in the distance. Belle and Mary Margaret ignored it, continuing to chat while the tea brewed. But the howling picked up again a short time later, louder and in larger numbers. Mary Margaret reached for her bow and quiver.

"It's alright," Belle said casually, taking the kettle off and pouring them each a cup, "They've caught the scent of wounded prey and they're closing in on it. They're going to stay away from us."

"And how do you know that?" Mary Margaret asked.

Belle passed her a cup, "The Huntsman taught me some basic wolf."

Mary Margaret fell silent. Emma's stomach clenched uncomfortably, but it had little to do with the mystery meat in it. Belle offered her a cup and Emma numbly accepted it, the truth coming at her like car headlights.

"…so it's true, then," she murmured, staring blankly at the ground, "Regina really did have Graham's heart… She…killed him."

Belle bit the inside of her cheek, nodding and blinking back fresh tears, "She didn't want anyone to remember who they were."

"She didn't want to lose control over her puppet," Emma hissed.

The fire crackled. The howls of the wolves moved past them, paying them no mind when there was work to be done.

Mary Margaret raised her cup, "To the Huntsman," she murmured, "Brave enough to risk his heart for a girl he barely knew."

Belle raised her cup, "To the man raised by wolves, nameless because names are a human thing, but memorialized nonetheless."

Emma lifted her cup weakly, "To Graham," she choked.

They drank in honor of the man who had affected all of their lives so profoundly, each in its own special way.

They left the fire going, warding off the animals of the forest. Emma volunteered for the first watch and though both of the other women objected, she eventually got them to curl up on their beds. Emma stared stoically at the forest, trying to sort through the raw pain leaving Henry and remembering Graham had caused. A glint caught her eye, and she glanced over at Belle.

Belle had pulled out a knife…a long knife that Emma couldn't remember seeing with her before. The edges of it were grooved like a kris and the blade was a good nine to twelve inches. Belle's fingers ran along the surface of it, inky black details Emma was too far away to make out. She felt along it for awhile, before bringing her lips and gently kissing near the tip of the dagger. She held the whole thing against her breast for a moment, before tucking it away again and going back to staring up at the clear sky.

Emma turned back to her guard, rubbing at her pocket where the picture of Henry was. It was a blessing she had it…a small comfort to get her through.

IIII

Belle stormed through the forest, her cloak billowing behind her like a wraith intent on a kill. The water bag thudded at her hip to the beat of her thoughts. That. Infuriating. Selfish. Stubborn. Narrow-minded. Jerk. She didn't even pause to set down an offering to the guardian of the lake; a helmet skittered from the shrine as her foot unconsciously booted it.

Of course she knew there'd be unique struggles to their union; she knew she would never be able to kiss him for fear of his curse breaking and therefore losing the power he needed to get his son back. But that didn't mean she didn't feel upset about it every once in awhile, and that her points weren't valid. Well maybe she'd get a curse, see if he liked it when he couldn't kiss her.

A part of her realized it was a stupid argument, but another part was insistent that it was important enough to quarrel over.

She reached the shoreline and bent down, filling up the water sack with that of the magical Lake Nostos. This was actually incredibly easy… Too easy.

The lake started to glow and bubble and Belle backed off. There it was… She reached towards the hilt of her rapier, prepared to defend herself.

A woman rose out of the lake, her gown as white as her hair and as decorated as her tiara. She was beautiful in a way that made Belle instantly suspicious; an ethereal wispy sort of beauty, like dryads.

"Hello," she said smoothly, as though she hadn't just caught a thief, "What's your name?"

"Not important," Belle murmured, wincing, "Listen, I'll pay on the way out, I was just flustered-"

"It's alright," The woman murmured, "A brave young woman such as yourself deserves a reward."

Flattery. Yes, this was definitely a trap.

"I'm still leaving the gold," she informed her, turning on her heels.

"Wait!" The lady of the lake called after her, "Don't you want to see what I can show you?"

Belle, her objective complete, should have kept going. But her characteristic flaw got the better of her and she paused.

"…show me what?"

"Look for yourself."

Belle whirled around to find not a siren, but Rumplestiltskin standing on the water. But it wasn't the Rumplestiltskin she had come to know and love; he stood before her an ordinary man, with deep brown eyes and skin touched by the sun instead of a curse. He was dressed in the studded black uniform of a new soldier, chainmail around his neck and a sword on his belt. Belle wasn't one to dwell on appearances, or had any particular fancy towards soldiers… But she had to admit it was definitely doing something to her to see Rumple like this.

She bit her lip, looking him up and down.

"I know you're an illusion," she insisted bitterly.

"Yes," Pseudo Rum agreed, "One that you created."

Belle slowly backpedaled, Rumplestiltskin approaching the shoreline. He held out his hand to her.

"Come on, dear. Let me kiss you."

Belle felt rather than commanded her body to move, stepping out onto the water to whom she logically knew wasn't her husband…but his voice was so deep and rough, like when he rumbled sweet nothings to her after making love. And then the arms wrapped around her, not as strong and protective as before. But those eyes, so large and brown and warm… Their lips met and Belle's heart soared, finally able to kiss her true love. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she tried to deepen the kiss, but for some reason he didn't seem interested.

And then Rumplestiltskin pulled her down into the water and Belle belatedly remembered what she was dealing with.

She thrashed under the water, trying to break free but the siren's hold was too strong. It dragged her deeper and deeper into the depths, down towards the grave of countless fools. Belle clawed for her dagger, but couldn't get it out of its sheath. Her lungs screamed for air and she threatened to black out, watching the siren shift back to her natural form and leer at her quarry. Belle instinctively breathed and water rushed into her lungs. She tried to choke but only drew more water into her belly and nose. She squirmed in discomfort as her lungs and stomach bloated, staring helplessly at the siren.

The siren squinted, and then snarled.

"You're immortal," she accused disgustedly, pushing Belle away.

Well that was probably why she wasn't dead yet, Belle thought as she tried to crawl up for some air. Even so, drowning wasn't exactly a picnic.

III

Archie had been in the business of helping people ever since he had been given a second chance, even before the curse had put him in an official position for it. Since the curse had broken he'd been seeing a steady stream of clientele, from the likely to the unlikely. One of his biggest surprises was Regina after she had let Henry go, demanding his help in her quest to keep from using magic.

And yet he hadn't seen the one person he really thought could use a listener.

Yes, Mr. Gold was being especially callous and cruel lately…but it was obviously a sign of distress. His wife had disappeared into a portal and there was no way of knowing if she could get back, or even if she was alright. Everyone dealt with things in their own way… Mr. Gold just tended to take it out on others.

"Thank you, Dr. Hopper," Mr. Gold said brusquely as he took the month's rent from the therapist. Some things actually hadn't changed; paying rent was one of them.

The pawnbroker turned to leave and Archie summoned up his courage.

"Would you like to come in?"

Mr. Gold glanced warily at Archie's office.

"I just thought…after what happened to Belle…"

"That I'd want to bare my soul to an insect?" He hissed.

Archie didn't take it personally; it was a defense mechanism. He was trying to protect himself from further emotional pain.

"To someone," he corrected gently, "Loss is a tremendous burden, and to lose your wife-"

"I didn't lose her. Regina shoved her through a portal," he growled, "Loss suggests it was an accident."

His mouth blamed Regina, but his body language blamed himself. He was drawn into his body, his normal composure of looking taller than he actually was gone. He was convinced Belle falling into the portal was somehow his fault, either because he truly felt so or because saying it was his fault gave him a sense of control. Archie couldn't tell that much about his thoughts.

"Either way, someone you care about is gone."

"Who says I care about her?" He couldn't even meet Archie's eyes as he spoke, "There are many reasons to get married, very few of them having to do with...love."

Archie took a deep breath, hoping he wouldn't get turned back into a cricket for this, "A man who doesn't care about his wife wouldn't plan a camp-out under the stars surrounded by candles and roses for her."

Mr. Gold's head whipped up as he stared, both startled and a little nervous, as if his love for Belle was a secret between the two of them.

"How…?"

"I saw you the morning after while walking Pongo," he confessed, "I may not know a whole lot about true love, but Belle curled up against you, you curled around her as if to protect her from the world, both fast asleep and peaceful… It sure looked like the stuff of fairytales to me."

Mr. Gold's eyes flit around as if looking for an escape, or an explanation… But he had been caught, exposed for the man he truly was underneath the Dark One's mask. His mouth opened, but nothing came out, so Archie took the opportunity to foolishly press forward.

"I understand that you don't want to appear weak…but you still need a healthy outlet for your pain. Having your wife-"

"Wife," Mr. Gold repeated in a grumble, "You keep using that word… I've lost a wife before, I know that pain. But Belle…" His voice cracked over her name, face twisting in agony, "…she's my world. My confidant. My lover. My rock. My partner. My best friend. Wife is such a weak description of everything she is to me." He shook his head slowly, "I keep taking down two plates for dinner… I go into the shop but I don't hear singing, or see a brunette with her nose buried in a book… I think I feel her, but it's only the cat trying to get my attention. The house…is cold, and silent."

Archie wanted to reach out, to touch his shoulder, to gently guide the private man inside the security of his office, to where he'd be safe from prying eyes. But fear kept him at bay…fear and reluctance.

Mr. Gold closed his eyes, hair veiling his face, "I can't go to her… I have no way to know if she's alright, or have any idea how to bring her back to me… I am helpless to do anything but prowl the cage of Storybrooke and pray for her return."

"She'll be okay," Archie breathed with an odd certainty.

"I know," Mr. Gold's chin trembled, "…but what about me?"

Archie stared, unable to respond to his question. He lifted his head, his gaze so lost and wounded it was almost like looking at a beaten dog.

"Belle is a crutch that I can no longer walk without," he stated, "Without her I'm little more than dust."

He left the building that Dr. Hopper's office was in feeling more lost and lonely than before. Faith had always proved to be a disappointment, though if there was anyone who could find a way to a land without magic after being sent from there it would be her. He couldn't say that he trusted her to find her way home…but he believed in his heart of hearts that she would try her damndest.

That night, he drove out towards the rocky beach past the cannery, towards a hill with grass that went up to his thighs. He trudged up to its peak, smoothing down a patch and lying on his back facing the sky. It was a clear night, the stars as bright as if he were back in the pastures of his home village. He stared at them, eyes moving from one to the other.

Kit had told him that each star was a door to another world. He could believe that…he wanted to believe that. Which star was the door to the Enchanted Forest? Could Belle see Storybrooke's star from where she was? He tried to use their connection, but it was too weak with them so separated. He'd have to use every scrap of energy in his body to get the slightest impression of how she was.

A phantom touch moved down his spine slowly, a touch that startled him at first but, as he realized what it was, made him deliriously happy. It was a touch Belle had experimented with quite a bit back when she was first given the dagger, a master testing her boundaries. She had been delighted to find intentional touch to the dagger could manifest itself to touching him.

Belle was reaching through the ether to him.

He closed his eyes and focused on the sensation, wishing there was some way he could reach back to her, to let her know that he was there with her in this moment just as she was with him. He felt her lips on his shoulder and then the warmth of her body, before the sensations faded away.

He sobbed shamelessly, both from joy and from pain. For a moment he had almost believed that she was there beside him under the star-scattered sky.

II

Another night had nearly fallen, but Mary Margaret kept pushing on with an intimidating intensity as she continued at a merciless pace. Emma was starting to wonder if she had lost it, when the forest suddenly fell away. A village spread out beneath them, but beyond that there was a castle, isolated except for a single bridge. Something stirred within Emma at the sight of it, not quite a memory, but an attachment kind of like it.

"Is that…?" Emma trailed off.

"Yes," Mary Margaret breathed, "We're home."

Home seemed a bit worn down, if the half collapsed bridge was anything to go by. At one point it looked like it had been strong enough to hold for a convoy of semis loaded with lead but now, as they wove their way around gaps and climbed over debris, it was lucky if a couple horses managed to get over.

Despite the obvious destruction, Emma still gaped as they passed through the front gates, into a room that could have held thousands. A shattered crystal chandelier lay in the center, massive in size and sad in its dead way. Chunks were missing from the walls and ceiling, and furniture was strewn about haphazardly.

"Looks like a bomb went off," Emma murmured.

"No, just a curse," Mary Margaret remarked sadly.

They picked their way up the staircase, down the hall with bloodstained tiles and discarded swords, to a door barely hanging on its hinges. Belle stopped dead in her tracks, staring at the room.

"You two go on ahead," she insisted, "I'm going to raid the apothecary's lab, see if I can find anything. I'll be back in a bit."

Mary Margaret glanced at Belle, knowing that the other woman was quite aware that they didn't have an apothecary lab. She nodded her acknowledgement of the gesture, "Don't be too long."

Belle nodded back and Mary Margaret led Emma into what would have been her room if it wasn't for the curse.

Belle walked a distance away, folding her arms and holding back a sigh. She could only wonder at how her own home had fared; it was depressing seeing Snow's palace so demolished. Perhaps magic had fortified their castle, or it hadn't been hit as hard because Snow was the target.

She loitered at the end of the hall, giving the mother and daughter some space. Her head turned as Mary Margaret's voice picked up in surprise.

"Lancelot! What are you doing here?"

IIII

Rumplestiltskin hadn't stopped spinning the entire evening, pushing the wheel along in angry bursts. How dare she be upset with him over something she clearly knew, accusing him of not trying! She was so willing to risk everything and for what, a kiss? A kiss was worth losing the power he needed to get his son back when he had so many other ways to show his devotion to her?!

As time wore on, it slowly dawned on him what truly bothered him about the argument. He couldn't give her what she wanted. He couldn't give his wife something so basic, because of his own mistake. Belle deserved to be able to kiss her husband, especially when all she ever asked for were simple things like that.

The doors opened and he tensed up, stubbornly not taking his eyes away from the wheel.

"Back already?" He asked mildly. His question was met with small gasps as though there was no air in the room.

He turned around to see her grasping the back of his chair, soaked to the bone and mouth working like a fish on land.

"Belle!"

His stool clattered to the ground as he ran over to her, looking over her body. Her hands flit across her ribs, unable to speak.

"Here, sweetheart, lie down. It's alright; you're going to be fine…" He helped her onto the table and she obediently reclined, chest rising and falling to no avail.

He started pumping her lungs, quick hard movements to her ribcage. At first there was nothing to show for his efforts, but after about a dozen compressions copious amounts of water started to flow back out from her mouth and nose. She coughed and wheezed, rolling over onto her side reflexively. He pounded her back as she forced the last of it out. She closed her eyes for a moment, gulping in air.

"…I didn't know sirens were bisexual," she muttered when she could finally speak again.

"Neither did I," he admitted. She sat up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and he scooped her up in his, carrying her over to the fireplace.

She continued to lean against him as she dried, shivering every once in awhile. Rumplestiltskin kept his arms snugly around her, hardly noticing that she was getting him wet as well.

"I'm sorry I picked a fight," Belle mumbled, "It was stupid."

"Not stupid, futile," he corrected, "There's nothing I can do about it right now, though…" He paused for a moment, then insisted gently, "I have tried."

"I know. The rationale part of me does, anyway."

He nuzzled her damp curls, blowing warm breath over her scalp, "One day, dearie. One day we'll be able to kiss from sun-up to sun-down, I promise."

"Or sun-down to sun-up?" She asked suggestively.

He chuckled, "I like that better."

She scooted further up, resting her head on his shoulder instead of his chest, "I got the stupid water, anyhow."

"The water's the least of my concern since you came home drowned, but thank you."

"You look very nice in chainmail and a black soldier's uniform, by the way."

"In- What on earth? The siren took my form?"

"Mmmhmm. What, you think I'd kiss just any illusion?"

"You were pretty mad…"

"Wasn't because I was mad. It was wish fulfillment and hypnosis rolled into one," she turned her head towards him, "Next time, though, it better be really you I'm kissing, not some Guardian of the Lake."

"Deal," he said promptly, glancing at her. He frowned, narrowing his eyes, "I should have that siren killed for trying to kill you."

Belle nodded, "She was mean to me," she pouted.

"And she kissed you, so it's settled. Next up-and-coming hero slays her."

"Why don't you do it yourself?"

"Why are you so determined to pick a fight tonight?"

She stuck her nose up in the air, "I'm just saying if you're getting vengeance on my behalf you should do it yourself."

"Because monsters don't slay monsters." She opened her mouth and he covered it, not wanting the "you're not a monster" discussion tonight, "That's my best offer, dearie. Take it or leave it."

She licked his hand in response. Unfortunately he was too used to the immature action to be phased by it.

II

"Thank you, Snow… I've been looking for a way over for sooo long."

Mary Margaret twitched against Cora's binding spell, but it was no use. She was trapped, watching Cora effortlessly tangle Emma in a spare rug.

"I never thought the person that would help me find it," Cora chuckled, gesturing towards her, "Would be you."

"Why?" Mary Margaret choked out, "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I want to see my daughter," she said earnestly, "It's been too long."

"Oh no you won't!" Emma struck her sword against the bit of flint rock Mary Margaret had given her, and sparks took to the enchanted wood instantly, growing into flames.

Cora spun around, "NO!" She screeched, drawing the fire away and forming it into a ball to throw at trapped Emma.

Mary Margaret gasped, not even able to draw enough air to scream. But before the fire could touch Emma, it was rerouted. The bonds holding Emma and Mary Margaret fell away. Cora glanced around, before her eyes settled on a fourth figure.

Belle strolled into the nursery, eyes locked on her. Cora eased a few steps to the side, laughing softly.

"And there's the amateur sorceress."

"I prefer Caretaker," Belle snarled, mirroring her movements.

Cora looked her over, clasping her hands in front of her, "So you think being branded with dark magic makes you so powerful? You're still trying to use it for good, hanging out with people who insist they're heroes."

"The magic I have can be turned towards good, with a little effort," Belle hissed.

Mary Margaret and Emma had recovered enough to draw their weapons, standing beside Belle. Cora smirked, "We'll see."

Belle prepared for a fight, but Cora seemed to have other plans. The woman vanished in a puff of smoke, taking Emma aback.

Emma stared at where Cora had been, jaw dropping, "Did she just…?"

"Yeah," Mary Margaret said, glancing at Emma, "You alright?"

"Peachy. You?"

She rubbed at her neck, "Getting there… Belle?"

The two women turned to see her staring at the fire slowly engulfing the wardrobe. Emma's head whipped between it and Belle.

"Shouldn't you put it out before our ride home gets torched?!" She exclaimed.

Belle shook her head, "It would be much harder to activate, nonetheless carry, in its current state. This is a happy accident," she nodded towards the flames, "…if there's anything to be gained from the wardrobe, ash will do just as well."

They stood in silence, watching Emma's escape from the curse go up in smoke, hoping that it would serve another purpose now. Mary Margaret glanced at Belle, who even in the firelight looked pale and…terrified.

"She's alive," Belle breathed, fighting back a tremble.

The woman she knew purely from the wake of her decisions, from the resistance of Rumplestiltskin to love to the woman Regina had become… Was not a ghost. She was real, and trying to get to Storybrooke.

III

The night after Belle reached out to him, he dreamed of an endless room of mirrors. Mr. Gold wandered without a cane through the pathways, not entirely sure what he was looking for, but driven to find it nonetheless.

Then there were glimpses of it; a flash of brown, a swirl of blue. He spun around fast enough to see her wide eyes staring back at him. He glanced at his side but she wasn't there.

"Belle!" He shouted.

"Rumple!"

He ran down the line of mirrors, trying to find a break in them, to find the real woman instead of the reflection. Belle was evidentially attempting the same, flashes of her in the mirror showing up as she flit from one to the other. He finally stopped running and she was there in front of him, right where his own reflection should be. She put a hand up to the glass.

"Rumple…"

"I'm here Belle," he murmured, putting his hand up against hers but feeling nothing but the looking glass.

"Listen, I don't have much time left. Meet me tomorrow night in the place where there is no darkness. Please, Rumple, I need to talk to you!"

"I promise, Belle, I promise!"

His eyes flew open and he could feel his lips still forming the word "promise". He sat up, startling the cat out of a dead sleep, and tried to orient himself. It wasn't just a dream, he knew that as much as he knew that he was Rumplestiltskin and he loved Baelfire and Belle. The question was, what did it mean? And where was a place without darkness?

IIIII

I cannot apologize enough for the lack of updating; real life is insane right now as I work my butt off for a promotion. Whose idea was it to start this right before the busy season? Oh, right, I couldn't wait and was hoping to have more time.

Also, to the lovely anons who review… Fanfiction gives me no way of notifying you if you have a question, and these author notes are lengthy enough as is. If you do have burning questions but want to stay anonymous, pleasepleaseplease ask me on my Tumblr (ShakespeareanHoneyBadgers). You can submit anonymous questions, and I can actually answer them!

Number one question is definitely about updating…sadly I don't have the luxury of stability I had in the slow season with work, and due to a change of management I'm not allowed to steal time at work to write. So I can't say for certain when I'll be able to update, and I'm terribly sorry about this. Also, if you could refrain from saying "update soon", I'd appreciate it; pathetic as it is I have had panic attacks over such reviews knowing I can't "update soon" (kind of feels like a command, to be honest). Sooo, try to convey it a different way, such as "may your muse be ever present" or "may your fingers be swift and uninterrupted". I appreciate your eagerness, I really do… I just have my hands tied with my ability to pump these chapters out, unfortunately.

Sneak Peek: It just wouldn't be "The Crocodile" without our favorite couple fighting to some degree. More Mary Margaret/Emma bonding (you two do know this story isn't about you, right?). And the beginnings of Rumple and Belle's marriage, as well as the beginnings of the Caretaker.