A/N: I apologize for any upset from the last chapter. I know it was disturbing, and I have taken your reviews into consideration. I've just been really depressed lately, and it has been reflecting in my work. I hope you like this update better than the previous one. Enjoy! Love, Joanne.

Rumplestilzkin woke with a start. Trembling and covered in sweat, he got out of bed, and walked towards Belle's bedchambers. He sighed as he gazed at the beauty laying in the bed. It had only been a dream.

His conscience was warring with him even now as he stood there, gazing at his lover. She was still carrying his child. Rumplestilzkin knew that the child she was carrying would indeed carry his magic within it, and despite everything, he had made his choice. He was not a killer; he lost his son once, he was not going to give up another child again.

The Dark One sat at Belle's side, watching her sleep peacefully. Gently he caressed her soft brown curly hair as he tried to picture what their baby might look like. A part of him was scared that their baby would have his coloring, his cruel tendencies, or deformities. Magic was unpredictable, even the great Rumplestilzkin knew that.

His hand finally settled on Belle's abdomen, wondering if he could feel the baby just yet. Since Belle was not too far along, only twelve weeks, he did not feel any movement from the baby.

"Rumplestilzkin?" said Belle groggily. "Is that you?"

"Yes, dearie," said the imp. "I'm right here."

"Do you know why I am feeling so sick?" the beauty asked as she sat up in bed. Rumplestilzkin's hand slid from her stomach.

There was a silence as the Dark One looked down at his lap. "I think you might be experiencing morning sickness…"

The beauty's blue eyes widened as she looked back at her lover. He did not meet her gaze. "I'm pregnant?"

Rumplestilzkin tried to compose himself as best as he could. "Yes, dearie, you are in fact, pregnant…" His whole being warred within him. The beast inside him roared deafeningly with the desire to end that life inside her, but the humanity inside him, that still small voice buried deep within the recesses of his conscience fought against it.

The room was silent, the only noise were the birds chirping outside the window. "I'm going to have a baby…" Belle's voice was filled with surprise and joy. "And here I thought I was dying with plague!"

That broke the ice. Rumplestilzkin chuckled at her quip, and finally turned to look at her. "You're… excited to be carrying my child?"

Belle answered him with a smile that stretched from ear to ear. She leapt up from the bed, and wrapped her arms around his neck as she kissed him.

During the walk home, neither of us made eye contact. My sex was still sore and throbbing as I walked up the front steps. All I wanted to do now was to curl up in bed and cry myself to sleep.

Mr. Gold unlocked the front door, and the two of us walked inside. As soon as the door slammed shut, I knew there was still more hell to be paid. "You will not disobey me again," said Mr. Gold. "You have been warned. You are fully aware of the consequences, and now, you have experienced what happens when you disobey."

"You hurt me," I choked, tears starting to freefall.

There was a loud crash as Mr. Gold took his cane and hit the chair, causing it to fall noisily to the floor and nearly break. "Did you not read the contract, Miss French? Rule number 3, and I quote "You as the submissive will obey all commands unless strictly outlined in the contract that it is a "hard" task." Rule number 4, "You will come up with a safe word in case that there comes a point where you reach a "hard" task." I have it written in the rules, and yet, you have failed on your part to express this to me written or otherwise."

I started to walk away from him, but he turned me around to face him. I expected his face to be contorted in rage, but his face had softened somehow. "Belle, if there is something that I am doing to you that is not causing you pleasure, I need to be aware of it. I need to be aware of your limits. If I am hurting you, if I am causing you serious pain, you must tell me to stop. Why don't we use the word "stop" as your safe word?"

Gold wiped away my tears gently, and fixed my sex-mussed curly hair. "O-okay," I stammered quietly. He kissed my forehead softly.

"You must still be very sore," he sighed as he walked me towards the kitchen and poured me a glass of cranberry juice. "Drink this, and take some Advil. It will help with the pain."

"I forgot to mention," I said after popping two Advil into my mouth and chasing them down with a swig of cranberry juice. "You had a missed call from a Mrs. Robinson?"

Mr. Gold's face drained of all color. "You answered the phone? What did she have to say?"

"She wanted you to call her back," I replied with a shrug. "Do you know who that is?"

"Yes, I do," said Mr. Gold as he paced the kitchen floor. "She's back."

Curiously and confounded by this mysterious statement, I watched as he paced the kitchen floor and ran a hand through his hair nervously. He loosened his gold colored tie, too tight around his neck and suffocating. He was muttering to himself as if he were alone in his own house. I did manage to catch some words and phrases in his mutterings.

"I can only protect her for so long… Past come back to haunt me… Little bitch…"

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. He jumped as if I had electrified him by my touch, and turned to face me.

"You have no idea who you just talked to, and I hope to the gods above and below that you did not tell her any information about yourself or our relationship." Gold's face was hard and stone-like, his skin the color of pale cement reflecting his current demeanor. "What I will and can tell you about her is that she and I have a past, a past that I try hard to forget every day of my life. She lives in town, and I do my best to avoid contact with her, but somehow, she always seems to be able to draw me back in…"

"This Mrs. Robinson has some hold on you?" I asked, crinkling my brow in confusion. "How can she have a hold on you? I thought you were the one who was the dominant."

"I wasn't always a dominant, Miss French," sighed Mr. Gold as he filled the tea kettle with water from the sink. He set the kettle onto the burner on the electric stove. "At one time I was in your shoes as a submissive. A very, very long time ago…"