His experimenting was paying off. Every day, every night, every hour was all about finding his loophole, finding his way across the border and back to his son. The beakers he'd taken to the town line to collect pieces of the magic proved to be the most useful, so useful he'd gone back and collected even more on them to experiment with. It was necessary experimentation. The Curse was magic that had never been cast before, which meant that being broken in the way it had been, there would be no spells to fix it. He was going to have to find his own loophole, make his own magic to combat it. The first step in making custom magic? He had to know what he needed. He had to look at the magic he had to go up against, so he knew what to do to counter it. The result of his experimentation was knowledge, learning more and more about the magic surrounding the town at its borders. He'd learned quite a few things from his experiments.

First, the magic at the boundary appeared similar to the Curse that held Storybrooke in thrall for decades. It was magic that fed off itself and other magic, probably coming off the town now. That simple fact meant that the magic at the town line wasn't an impenetrable barrier, as Belle had suggested earlier. In fact, it was the opposite of a protective wall. It was a cage. The magic at the boundary would leach magic from anything or anyone magical if they crossed it. It would do this to sustain itself, to keep itself fueled and working. People in Storybrooke were from a magical realm, and they were walking around magic all the time now. For any citizen of Storybrooke, walking through it was like moving through a magical detoxifying wash.

This information left him with two important conclusions to begin working with his magic on. The first was that whatever magic he used to get through the town line either had to be so strong it would overwhelm the barrier so he could walk through and keep his magic, or the magic that he used had to mask his magic somehow to make the magic at the border believe there was nothing there to take. The second thing he could work on was a protection spell, one that was strong enough to cover the town. He wasn't sure if that information was going to help him cross the border to find Bae. In fact, he didn't even think he needed to begin work on it until after he returned. But he knew that because of how the magic at the border worked, everyone in Storybrooke, including Belle and eventually Baelfire, would be helpless against any outside forces that decided to show. People outside of Storybrooke who were not around strong magic in their day-to-day lives, they could come into Storybrooke without risk of losing anything on the way out. That could be irrelevant. It could be that nothing ever came to pass from it, but he'd rather be safe than sorry.

The second problem he encountered with the magic at the town line was a problem that he hadn't actually seen for himself because he'd been taking extra care not to touch the magic he collected in the beakers until he understood it a bit more. It was the problem he'd only heard about from David. The problem of memories. He hadn't experimented with that yet; he didn't know why the border took memories as it sought to strip people of magic, but he had some theories and a couple of conclusions based on what he'd heard.

First and foremost…he wasn't about to even try and take Belle with him over that line. So far that he knew, there was only one dwarf who had gone through it. Dwarves, in addition to carrying the remnants of a magical town with them, were innately magical. The magic would have fed on that first. He didn't know what would happen if a normal, non-magical human, like Belle, crossed over the line. Would it affect her differently? Identically? He didn't know. And he wasn't willing to experiment with her to find out. Second, his magic was more powerful than a dwarf's magic. Until he knew whether that was better or worse, he couldn't experiment with it on himself either. As far as where he might go after that, he didn't know, but it was enough to be called "a start."

At the very least, he had to design magic that would be very strong or very weak, that would protect memories while keeping them intact, and in the future, he would need a protection potion great enough to protect the town. It wasn't a lot to go on, but it was enough. He was proud of himself…until he found his way back to Belle again.

Belle made him remember.

He found her one afternoon in the kitchen surrounded by chaos. The table was set for two, the place smelled of dinner, and there was a casserole on the stove, but there were shards of something broken all over the floor, and he could see steam beginning to rise from a kettle that would begin to whistle any second now on the burner. And there was Belle was at the sink holding arm under the faucet.

"What happened here?!"

"Burned myself," she mumbled while she shook her head. His stomach gave an uncomfortable squeeze. She was hurt.

"Let me see," he demanded, shutting off the water and holding out his hand for her.

"It's fine."

It most certainly was not fine. Raw, red, angry skin that would no doubt blister if he didn't fix it marred her arm. He rallied his magic to heal her but was distracted when the tea kettle finally began its whistling. Instinct assessed each task to be done, and he left her side to pull the kettle off the stove before anything caught fire and they had a bigger problem. All the while his feet crunched on whatever was broken on the ground. It was only then that he realized her own feet were bare.

"What broke?"

"A teacup," she responded with frustration in her voice. He'd had a good day at the shop doing his work. Her tone made him suspect she'd had the opposite.

"Let me see," he repeated, stepping back to look at her arm. This time, when he gathered his magic for healing, he let it move over her skin, making it perfect and pure and whole once more. It wouldn't even scar. With a bit more magic, the shattered teacup was restored, sitting perfectly upon the counter, ready for use, and her feet were protected. All was well again. He looked up at her, expecting to find relief. Instead, she pulled her arm free, crossed them both over her chest, and leaned back against the sink. The frustration wasn't just in her voice. It was in her face too.

"You didn't have to do that," she commented.

He stepped away from her. She was angry. With herself or with him or the day, he didn't know yet, but he could feel that she was angry and upset about something. He made sure to keep his eyes on her so they wouldn't drift to the basement door. Did she know?

"It's not a problem."

"You didn't need magic for a teacup! It's too much a temptation-"

"Too much a temptation to make sure you don't injure yourself on a shard of broken glass or stay in pain from a burn?!" he questioned. She was angry because he'd used magic to clean and heal? She wanted to stay hurt? To have to clean up the mess? To risk cutting her feet?

"Ice, cool water, and a bandage would have worked just fine for that."

"You would prefer to remain injured?" he questioned, knowing that it was a trap. The only answer in this case was "yes" or "no". She wasn't a sadist who enjoyed pain, so he knew that the answer wasn't "yes." That only left "no", which was why he healed her. And suddenly, he felt as if her mood were rubbing off on him because he was beginning to feel irritated too. Why were they arguing about this? Why were they arguing at all?

"I would prefer not to have to rely on magic for the slightest things! You know how I feel about magic, and you know better than to use it on anything…even the smallest of things! Before you know it, it'll consume you again!"

He stared at her silently for a moment. Her words, her tone…she was picking a fight, and that wasn't like her at all. Not to mention it was a fight that he couldn't understand. Yes, he had a feeling he knew her opinion about magic which was why he practiced it after she went to sleep, but they'd never had a conversation before about temptation, and he'd never promised not to use it. Her argument was weak and fueled by something else, he suspected.

"Is something wrong?"

"I don't suppose things are better in town?"

"Unstable," he answered automatically, without even thinking about it. It wasn't a lie. Things might have been better, but it was still too unstable for his tastes to take her there. There was too much risk, too much danger, and far too much at stake. She asked every day, but she never questioned him like this.

"Still? After all this time, the town hasn't put itself back together yet, hasn't calmed down in the slightest?!"

"With Mary Margaret and Emma gone?! With David in charge and Regina running free?! No, Belle, what do you expect?!"

"And you've had no word on the whereabouts of my father or Gaston?"

"I told you I took care of it, didn't I?!" he spat as his stomach clenched. For a second, a very brief second, he almost wondered if that was what this was about. If she'd somehow discovered that "taking care of it" meant throwing both her portraits away first thing when he'd gotten to work. But logic told him there was no chance that could happen. No one knew she was here, no one knew the drawings had existed, no one would have told her, at least not without him knowing. "It's going to take some time Belle!"

Her chest rose and fell with a great sigh as she stared at him. He could see her jaw moving, the way she was biting at her cheeks and mouth almost nervously. But she never said anything. Just stood there looking at him, like she expected something.

"Belle, why don't you just tell me what's wrong. Tell me what's bothering you so I can fix it!"

She took a few shallow, calming breaths, looked around the kitchen, and swallowed. "I'm bored, Rumple," she stated quietly. "I want to leave this place. I want to do something besides sit here all day, besides feel like I'm still just a caretaker!"

She wasn't a caretaker! Cooking and cleaning, he hadn't wanted her to do those things; she'd done them on her own. He'd told her a dozen times!

"I've never asked-"

"I know!" she shouted. "I know you didn't ask me to do those things, but if I don't, then what else am I supposed to do all day?!"

And that was the problem. This place for them was inevitable because she was right. He didn't want her to be a caretaker, but if he didn't take her out, then what else was she supposed to do.

She was growing restless.

She didn't want to be cooped up in the house all day. She wanted to be out, exploring the town, meeting people, seeing the world. He wanted that for her, truly he did. But with Regina free and Mary Margaret and Emma Swan still not back from wherever they'd disappeared to, not to mention Belle's inexperience, taking her out into the world scared the shit out of him.

Things were better in town, he knew that. Ever since David and Regina had tangled and they'd made the discovery about the town line, there was a change in Storybrooke. Things were almost starting to feel normal again. Kids were going to school, the buses ran on schedule, Town Hall was open though he was aware that Regina had been asked to step down because one morning he'd awoken to find a copy of the Mirror freshly printed and on his doorstep for the first time since the Curse broke. On Main Street, businesses alongside him were opening again, Granny's appeared to be packed with usual patrons, there was a clean-up in process, roads were being repaved, lights that the wraith had destroyed were being replaced. If there was ever a time to take Belle to town, it might have been now.

But he didn't trust it. He feared too many people would use her against him, and with a new goal of leaving Storybrooke in mind, he couldn't risk people discovering her, only to leave her vulnerable. And what if they ran into her father?!

Anonymity would be her greatest cover in the future. But she didn't know that yet because he still hadn't told her about Baelfire. He meant to. He wanted to. The opportunity had presented itself a few times, but the words never came out. He knew that until he told her, until he laid out his plan for her, it would be like this. He should just tell her! Now!

But then he heard a shuffle from across the room and realized that she'd pushed herself off the counter and was coming toward him. Just like she did every night when he came home, he found her arms around his neck. She held on longer than usual, long enough for him to finally shake himself from his stupor and put his arms around her, to realize that she'd gone soft against him.

"Tell me what to do," he begged in her ear.

The words should have been "I have something to tell you." They should have gone into the living room and talked about Baelfire. He should have explained it all to her right then and there. Instead, he just whispered, "tell me what to do to make you happy."

The answer wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"Nothing."

More trouble in paradise. We knew that we were bound to start seeing it at some point, and now that we've arrived at the 2x03 chapters, we have it. I do hope that you'll enjoy this tale from Rumple's perspective. I feel bad for them, both of them. For Belle because not only does she want out, but I truly believe that if she knew about Baelfire, she would understand and work with Rumple on his plans. But then also for Rumple because we can see that he does recognize he needs to tell her, and he wants to tell her. He just keeps having a problem with the actual telling part. But hey, that's the way it goes. If everything were all sunshine and roses, then there wouldn't be a story to tell.

Thank you so much to Alarda for your continued reviews. In addition to some of the Rumbelle stuff, I hope that you'll like the experimentation that Rumple is starting to do with the magic at the town lines, and I hope that you'll enjoy that look into his head. Again you can already see that protection potion he gives to Belle later in season two taking form in his mind, and you can also see him beginning to ask questions and try to sort out the kind of magic he's going to need. Honestly, a lot of that is just stepping into his shoes and asking myself where I'd begin and what conclusions I could draw from what I knew. The rest falls in place a little later. Peace and Happy Reading!