He was torn. Inside, his emotions oscillated from the frenzied motions that came along with panic to the sluggish pit associated with depression.

Belle was gone. Her nightgown lay discarded on the floor. It was still warm, barely, but warm enough. She hadn't been gone for long, but then where had she gone and why?

Gone or taken?

That was the question.

Had she finally had enough? Had their argument today been enough to send her over the edge to make her leave him?

Or had someone lured her outside and taken her away? This town was full of enemies; it was why he wasn't so keen on taking her into town when she begged. He felt confident that no one had come onto his property, but she'd gone outside for "air" before. With magic it might not take much to lure her out past the property line so that he'd never sense another presence on his property.

Gone or taken?

The first roused fear in him, the second anger and panic.

Anger and panic. He needed to hold on to those. Most of his life had been driven by anger and panic. He'd learned that he could do a lot when he was angry and panicked, and even if Belle had gone of her own free will, he still needed to find her. Free will or not, he'd promised to take care of her. Out there in the world, she had nothing. No money, no friends, not a single idea about where she was. If she chose not to come back, then what did she plan on doing? Sleep on the street?

No. She'd look for something familiar, she'd try to play the role of the hero, she'd try to do what he hadn't done yet. She'd try to find her father or Gaston, the only other people she'd indicated she thought she knew in this town.

Those thoughts allowed more anger to pour through him. He'd promised to take care of her, and part of that promise meant that she'd never have to go back to her father, never have to play a part in his games again. He had to find her before she found him.

He snatched the nightgown off the floor, grabbed his jacket, and used magic to take him to the shop. First thing first, he dove for the black bag he kept in the corner. A potion, he could use a potion to find her. The magic he'd placed on her to keep her safe and hidden from others would hide her even from him, but with her nightgown, a tracking potion could work! It was a loophole he was happy to exploit only...he remembered too late that he'd given his Tracking Potion to David and hadn't made another one yet. That was no bother. He'd given it to him before he'd known there was a problem with the town line because he knew he could cast a Tracking Spell himself. A Tracking Spell would work around his magic just as well.

He clutched the nightgown Belle had been wearing in his hand pushed the spell into it only…

It glowed. Just as it was supposed to, it glowed brightly for only a second. And then the glow flickered out and faded. He looked around as if expecting to see her sitting on the cot or in the corner, he wandered out into the front room, but the place was untouched. He glanced back at the nightgown and cast the Tracking Spell over it again.

Again, it glowed as it was supposed to before flickering out and fading away just as…

Just as it was supposed to when the owner of the object had been found.

Him. He was the owner of the object. The nightgown...it wasn't hers. She'd worn it, but it was his magic that had created it, and so it recognized him as the owner. It was finding him. But there were other things, things that she'd found around the house that she'd confessed had belonged to her long ago! But what? He hadn't been paying attention when they'd had that conversation. And the items had been random, a book or two, a shoe, maybe a pillow…he couldn't remember.

And there was her teacup…

He was halfway to the case where he was storing it before he stopped. Her teacup…from his tea set, bathed in his blood and magic so that it would find its way to him in this world. It might recognize itself as her own, just as half a dozen other things in his home might, but he needed to find her. He didn't have time to run around trying to find that one magical item that would take him to her. He didn't have anything of hers to cast a spell on, not even in a carnal way. Blood, skin, saliva, they hadn't so much as kissed this morning before she'd disappeared, and they hadn't had sex last night; there was nothing he could harvest for a potion. Except…

Blood to blood. Her father. Her blood would flow in his veins and vise versa. And he suspected that if she left on her own, then that was the place she would go to. He'd cut her off.

If he couldn't get to her first, then he'd get to where she was going first. If she was going there at all, he reminded himself. He wandered into the back room where the drawings that she'd made of her father were still waiting to be tossed out with the other trash, and from a drawer, he pulled forth the amateur drawing of her that her father had done. He wasn't sure what he wanted to believe. He wasn't sure how to marry the person she'd been to the one she was now. Part of him believed that if she left on her own and had nowhere to go, then she'd go to her father. Another part of him believed there was a slim chance of that happening. Not just because she wouldn't want to, but she wouldn't know how.

She had nothing to go on here. She had no idea who her father was here or what he did. But if she did know…that was the first place he'd look. Out on her own, confused, scared…she'd want something familiar. There was a slim chance she was there, but if she was…if she was, then he had to know. He'd always known this day was coming, a day that she walked out on him because she couldn't handle the monster the way she thought she could. He'd promised himself that when that day came, he'd accept it he just…he thought he'd had more time. He hoped they'd have more time. He'd hoped that he might be able to tell her about Baelfire, and yet when he'd had the opportunity this morning-

Later, those were thoughts for later, after he had a hint about where she was. He needed to go to the flower shop. If she was there and wanted to stay with her father, then he'd accept it. If she wasn't there…he shivered. If she wasn't there, then he might have a problem that required a bit more thought. He just had to know if she was safe. That was the priority. He just needed to know where she was so he could protect her from Regina, among others.

"You!" Moe spat out the moment he entered the flower shop. He'd walked there. Not because he was dying for air but because part of him had hoped he might see her on the street or hear something about someone who was looking for him or Moe. But the trip had been wholly uneventful. Until now. Now Moe French glared at him, red in the face, his heart racing, fear pouring from him so that it stank up the place, an achievement for a man who owned a flower shop. He could understand his fear. At the moment, he understood that emotion all too well.

"Rest easy…I'm not here for you. At least not today," he warned in a tone that certainly carried the implication of a threat to it. But he let the words linger there as he showed the man the poster he'd brought. "I was wondering if you'd heard from your daughter?"

Immediately, Moe snatched it out of his hands. "Is this some kind of cruel joke?" he snapped. "I wouldn't have made this flyer if I knew where she was. The only reason she's missing is because of the deal I made with you."

Belle's deal. He wanted so badly to correct him. It was Belle who had stood up and made that deal, who had negotiated it, who had paid the price. Maurice had just benefited from it as he let it happen, and it turned his stomach still today. Watching him look over that paper with sorrow and longing all the while knowing what Belle had told him about her life, how trapped she'd been…it made him want to take a cane to man again.

"I'd held out. I hoped she might have survived such a wicked trade."

"And she has."

"Why hasn't she come looking for me?"

"Oh, she did," he assured him, crossing his hands over his cane to keep the smile he felt inside from blooming on his face. He wanted him to know the truth of it. He wanted him to feel guilty. But considering the situation and the position he found himself in, he opted for implications instead of pesky details. Now was probably not the time to confess that they'd been living together since the Curse broke quite happily until this morning. Now was probably not the time to confess that they'd been sleeping together, even if he did hatefully want the man to know that Belle had been the one to make that decision. He wanted him to know those things, but at the moment, he thought it was better to leave out the details and allow him to take from it what he would. "She even made a flyer like this one."

"Well, let me guess. You took care of it by throwing it in the trash."

"I don't expect you to help me!" he growled, stepping forward and grabbing the paper out of his hands for himself. He did so want to make Moe flinch, to make him cry and scream again. But that would help his current situation, not if Belle came by. What had his aunts always told him in difficult situations? Best behavior. He had to be on his best behavior now. He didn't need help from French, but he might just need assurance. He hated to be indebted to the man for anything, but if it got back to Belle somehow…she was softer than her father; tenderhearted. She'd make sure he knew she was alright.

"I just want to know she's safe."

"And now, thanks to you, neither one of us knows where she is. You're a monster, Rumpelstiltskin," he muttered before he turned and walked into the back room.

Again, a really short scene in the show, but it was sort of tough to write the framing for this one. And for the next one, I suppose. Rumple asking for help is really out of character for him, so the fact that he goes to Moe and later to David...I had to think long and hard about how to write the lead-up to both of those to make it seem more natural and in character. Here, I went with a "I'll cut you off at the pass" sort of approach. He's going to Moe not with the hope of finding her but rather of getting to her father first. For David, well...I'll let you read that when we get to it.

Thank you again, Alarda and Grace5231973, for all the wonderful little things you've been leaving in my inbox. I'm happy you are enjoying this return to the "seen scenes" and hope that you'll continue to like my spin on them, even knowing where they will lead! Peace and Happy Reading!