Chapter Six: Sifting Through Shards

Emma sat beside Henry's bed. She'd convinced Whale to let them in on grounds of family, and the fact that it was a magical malady, which meant his medical knowledge was of limited use.

She'd been there almost every waking moment since leaving Gold's house two days before. Henry had continued to make slow but steady improvements. Whale had taken him off the respirator the day before, once he'd confirmed that Henry was breathing on his own, though he hadn't regained consciousness yet.

Emma glanced at her phone, wondering if she should call Neal.

She hadn't returned to Gold's house, not since she'd left after his outburst concerning his son. She couldn't shake the feeling of having seen something that wasn't hers to see. It was the same feeling she'd gotten when she'd watched Neal and his father interact, that day when Gold had been dying. That feeling of being a witness to something that was too personal, too painful for outsiders to view. As if she'd intruded on something, violated some trust she didn't fully understand.

Besides, it hurt too much, to witness the intensity of emotion between father and son. She'd never gotten a chance to develop such a relationship with her own parents, and it made her heart ache, not only for Neal and Gold and what they'd lost, but for what she'd never had.

So she'd volunteered to watch Henry more often, asked the others to sit with Neal and his father. At least David and Mary Margaret could sympathize with Neal and Gold, offer the soothing words that she'd never been good at.

Regina hadn't said anything when she'd stammered out her excuses for wanting to avoid Gold and Neal, but she had a feeling the former Evil Queen knew exactly what was going on in her head. And sympathized. it was an odd feeling, but she wasn't about to question it.

"Excuse me...Sheriff Swann?" A quiet, lightly accented voice startled her out of her thoughts. She blinked at the person who'd addressed her.

"Belle." The young woman was attired in hospital scrubs, rather than a patient gown. She still looked a little lost, but given that she had no memories from any point prior to two months ago, that was no surprise. She looked a little hesitant. "You need something?"

"Well, I don't want to disturb you..." Belle's gaze moved to Henry.

"No, no, it's fine." Emma gestured to a seat. "Trust me, a little distraction is welcome."

Belle nodded and settled gingerly into the seat, as if she didn't quite expect it to be real between one movement and the next. "Thank you. I...I was wondering...if you could help me with something..." Her fingers twined together in her lap. "It's kind of ridiculous, really..."

"Well, why don't you tell me what's on your mind, and I'll see what I can do." Emma sat forward. "Trust me, I know you're stressed, so if I can do anything to help, just tell me."

Belle nodded. "I...well, it's just..." She sighed. "Since I was placed here, after I woke up on the town line...that gentleman, Mr. Gold...he used to come and see me every day. And at first I was really bothered by it. He was just so...intense. So focused. And I could tell he was worried about me, and really upset, I suppose because he knew me as his girlfriend or something..."

"Yeah." Or something. She'd thought Gold incapable of feeling anything but self-interest until she'd seen him with Belle. Awkward and shy and almost sweet. "And?"

"Well, one day, he came and told me he was leaving on a trip. And then a few days later, he called and told me he was dying. And then two days after that, he came back here and told me they'd managed to save him. He didn't tell me how, of course." Belle huffed in exasperation. Then she sighed. "Having him gone, getting that phone call and thinking I'd never see him again...I realized...I don't know much about who I am, where I've come from, but I do know...I'd miss him. I...care for him. I don't know why and and I don't know how, just...I do. And that's why..."

Belle took a deep breath. "He hasn't come to see me in three days. And I was hoping you could tell me if he's all right. I mean, is he avoiding me, or is he just extremely busy, or is he sick...I was just hoping you could tell me."

'You will tell her, if and only if she asks for me. Then tell her the truth about what I am doing. She deserves that much of me.'

Gold's terms for saving Henry.

Emma swallowed to ease the sudden dryness in her mouth. "About that..." She glanced at the hospital ward outside. She hadn't seen much of their out of town visitor, but that just made her more wary than ever.

She made a quick decision. "You know what? Why don't you let me call someone to take over here, and then I'll check you out of here, and we can go get some real food and talk for a little bit. And I can answer some questions for you."

Belle's brow furrowed. "About Mr. Gold? Can't you just tell me if he's all right?"

"Actually...that's kind of complicated. And it's not really a hospital ICU room kind of discussion." Belle frowned. "Look. Come eat with me, and we'll talk, and then if you want, I'll take you to see him, okay?"

Belle considered, then nodded. "Okay."

Twenty minutes and a quick explanation later, Regina had arrived to take over watching Henry. She even brought over some spare clothes for Belle.

Ten minutes after that, Belle was dressed, and Emma had managed to convince Whale to let his amnesiac patient out of the hospital, on grounds of necessity and the slim hope that being out and about might jog Belle's memory. At least it would give her more reference points than the hospital to work from.

She considered taking Belle to Granny's, then discarded the notion. It would attract too much attention, for one thing. And there were too many ways that someone could overhear their conversation. The last thing any of them needed was for some well-meaning busybody to listen in and start spreading stories about Gold's condition.

Besides, she wasn't in the mood for the food Granny's usually served. Mary Margaret wasn't home, and a cup of tea and some food out of the fridge sounded extremely appealing.

She drove them to her family's apartment and led Belle up the stairs, gesturing for the other woman to proceed her. "Here we are."

Belle nodded, looking all around. "It looks...nice. But...where are we?"

"My apartment. Or, more accurately, my mother's apartment. I'm sort of sharing it with her for the moment. Been too busy to find my own place." Emma shed her coat and hung it up, then dove into the fridge. "So, I've got tea, coffee, milk, water to drink, and I can make you a sandwich, or soup, or a salad..."

"Tea would be nice, but anything's fine." Belle perched carefully on a stool by the kitchen counter. "It's just nice getting out of the hospital."

"Yeah. I can see that. Tea and sandwiches it is." Emma pulled out the appropriate containers and began making the tea. Mary Margaret had taught her how when she'd first moved in, and she was glad the lesson had stuck. She set the tea to steep, then made two sandwiches, roast beef and cheddar for her, ham and swiss for Belle. She toasted them lightly, added lettuce and tomatoes, then served up the tea and food to her guest. "Here you go. It's not great cooking, but hopefully it's not too terrible."

One corner of Belle's mouth quirked up in a shy grin. "Trust me...it has to be better than hospital food." She bit into the sandwich with enthusiasm. Emma followed suit.

The sandwiches disappeared fast. So did Belle's tea. Emma got her a refill. Belle sipped it, then set it aside. "Sheriff, I appreciate the lunch and everything but...why did you bring me here?"

Emma sighed. "Honestly? Because it's just about the best place I know of to have a conversation you don't want overheard."

"And telling me if Mr. Gold is all right is that kind of conversation?" Belle's brow furrowed in a frown. "I don't understand."

"I know." Emma sighed again, trying to sort out the best way to explain things. Finally, she decided to start with the basics. "Look, before we begin, I need you to promise me something. Promise you'll keep an open mind, okay?"

Belle nodded. Emma took a swallow of tea to moisten her throat. "The day I came to the hospital, before I left with Gold, you tried to tell me something. Do you remember what it was?"

Belle stiffened, hands clenching around the cup. "I tried to tell you what happened when I woke up on the town line. That I was there, and I couldn't remember how. I was...injured. You told me I had been shot, then almost hit by a car. I tried to tell you that Mr. Gold healed me, and that I saw him holding something...like a ball of fire...and throwing it at someone. And you said I was...delusional. Like I'd just...imagined it or something. But I know I didn't, and..."

"I know." Emma cut her off. "I know. You didn't imagine it. Everything you saw was real. But we had to tell you it wasn't."

Belle's jaw clenched. "Why?"

"Because...what you saw, the healing, the fire...that's magic. Magic is real. But it's only really real here, in Storybrooke. Why is kind of complicated, so you're just gonna have to trust me on that." She waited for Belle's nod, then continued. "The guy whose car almost hit you...he isn't from around here. We couldn't risk him finding out about magic. So, to protect the truth, we told you that you'd imagined it." She saw the hurt in the other woman's eyes. "Hey, I know. It's not fair to you, and it was probably wrong of us to keep sedating you and lying to you. We just...we weren't sure how to tell you the truth without possibly telling him too. I'm sorry."

Belle seemed to consider that for several moments. Finally, she relaxed a little. "I...suppose it's understandable. But what does that have to do with Mr. Gold? Besides the fact that he has magic?"

"A lot." Emma took a deep breath. She didn't want to talk about the next part, but she had to. "You saw the boy I was with?"

"Yes. I've seen you and several others visiting him."

Emma wrapped her hands around the tea mug, trying to pull the warmth into herself. "That little boy...his name is Henry. He's my son. Four days ago, he came across a cursed object, and he accidentally touched it. And it cursed him. The curse is fatal."

Belle's expression winced into one of apology. "I'm so sorry..."

"Yeah. So am I. So are all of us. The thing is...Henry is also Gold's grandson. His son is Henry's dad. So when Gold heard about Henry, he came to see him. And he knew what the curse was, and how to break it."

Belle frowned again, though it looked more thoughtful than angry the second time. Her lips pursed and her eyebrows drew down, eyes staring into the distance. Then she took a drink of tea. "You're saying...he hasn't come to see me...because he's trying to save your son. His grandson."

"Yeah. That's...pretty much it." Emma took a sip of her own tea. It was down to the dregs, with an odd aftertaste, but she couldn't care less.

"What he's doing...is it dangerous?" Belle's words were hesitant.

Emma felt herself stiffen before she could stop the reaction. "It's...he said it wasn't life threatening, but..." The memory of Gold as she'd last seen him, sweat soaked and tortured, weeping silently while Neal held his hand, flashed through her head. She winced. "It's not life threatening. But it...it's not good either."

Something shadowed darkened Belle's gaze. She was silent for several moments, drinking her tea and staring into the distance over Emma's left shoulder. Finally, when the last of her tea was gone, she met Emma's gaze again. "Can I see him?"

Emma considered. On one hand, Gold had insisted that Belle be told the truth. On the other hand, she doubted Gold would want to be seen by anyone he didn't have to be in his current state. He'd made it clear before they'd started all this that he would endure having watchers only because of the possible danger to himself and to others if his magic raged out of control.

On the other hand, if there was anyone in the world Gold would trust to see him besides Neal, it was likely to be Belle. Her injury and subsequent loss of memory had torn him up badly. And having her there, even if it was as a slightly concerned and sympathetic friend, might help.

It might be enough to save him, if the spell ended as badly as Regina had suggested it might.

That thought decided her. "Let me make a call." She retrieved her phone from her jacket and dialed Neal's number.

It rang twice, then clicked, and Neal's hoarse voice cracked over the line. "Emma."

"Hey. Neal." She moistened her lip with the tip of her tongue. "Hey, I was at the hospital watching Henry and...Belle came to talk to me. She asked about your dad." She paused, then finished. "She wants to see him."

Neal made a frustrated sound. "Emma, he's..."

"I know he's not good. I told her. But we promised your dad. Besides...I think it might help. Him, and maybe her too." She couldn't explain why she felt that way. But she'd read Henry's book, the Once Upon a Time book, and she'd read of Rumplestiltskin and Belle. More to the point, she'd seen the way Gold had reacted to Belle's injury, and she'd heard the call he'd made when he lay dying in his shop. All of it seemed to add up to one gently whispered instinct, nudging her mind and telling her that she needed to bring Belle to Gold.

"Fine. You can bring her." Neal heaved a sigh that sounded more exhausted than angry, or irritated. "God knows it can't hurt."

"Yeah. That was my thought." She looked at the slender woman sitting curled up on Mary Margaret's stool. "Be over in a little while." Then she hung up.

Belle was staring at her empty tea cup when Emma sat back down. "Neal said we could come over."

Belle nodded, then focused on her. "You said you thought it could help. Him and me. I don't understand. I don't even know who I am, aside from what people have told me. How could I help him?"

"For the same reason he can help you. Look, I know what he said to you on the phone, when he was dying. I was there, helping take care of him." Emma reached out, careful and cautious, and laid one hand across Belle's. "I know you don't remember anything before that night at the town line. And I can only imagine how confusing that has to be for you. But here's what I do know. Gold cares for you. More than I actually thought it was possible for him to care for anyone." Emma smiled. "He'd go through fire for you. You're one of only three people in the world I think he truly cares about. The other two are his son and Henry."

She folded her hand gently around Belle's. "This spell, this thing he's doing to save Henry...it's painful for him. When it ends, there's a serious possibility that he's going to need help. And I think having you there, even if you don't remember, even if you're just doing it to repay him for visiting you in the hospital and calling to encourage you, will help a lot."

Belle nodded. "But, you said it'll help me?"

"I think you need something to focus on besides everything you don't remember." Emma shoved her hands in her pockets. She couldn't imagine what it was like, to remember nothing of her life. She couldn't imagine not knowing Neal and Henry, not remembering her time in jail or out on the streets.

Belle considered a moment, then nodded. "I think I'd like that."

"Then let's go see Gold." Emma snatched her jacket and headed back out the door, Belle right behind her.

David was there to greet her when she and Belle pulled up to the house. He looked exhausted, a days worth of stubble on his jaw and shadows under his eyes. Emma could sympathize. He'd been helping her out at the sheriff's station when he wasn't watching Gold or Henry, and the routine had been taxing on all of them.

Emma waited until David shut the door behind them. "How is he?"

David grimaced. "Hard to say. His voice is gone, which is actually kind of a relief, but..." He ran a hand through his short hair. "It's not pretty. He's in bad shape." He met Belle's eyes. "Honestly, it's no place for a lady."

Belle met his gaze. "When I was in the hospital, he cared for me. It's only right that I return the favor."

"Yeah...sure. Right this way." David gestured.

Emma caught his arm. "Hey. You look worn out. Go home and get some rest, then stay with Mary Margaret a while, okay? Regina's watching Henry. We can handle it for a few hours."

David hesitated, then slumped. "That sounds...really great, actually. I am dying for a shower. If you're sure..."

"I'm sure. I had a solid eight hours before I went to see Henry this morning." It had actually been more like five, but she didn't think it mattered.

"Great. I'll leave you to it then." David flashed one last look at Belle, then left the house.

Emma led Belle down the hall and knocked gently on the door to warn Neal that they were there, then let herself in. She couldn't help but wince at the sight that met her eyes.

Neal looked exhausted, dark rings under his eyes. But at least he also looked like he'd gotten a hot meal, a shower and a few hours rest somewhere in there. Gold, on the other hand...

Gold looked horrible. His face was gaunt and pale, lips cracked and skin visibly irritated around his eyes. His hair was disordered, greasy and matted, his jaw dark with stubble. His clothing was wrinkled and stained with sweat. The bandages at his wrists were spotted with blood and grungy. His expression was tense with pain and grief, lips moving soundlessly as the odd shudder rocked his frame. He looked as if he'd tried to use his hands to block his face at some point, the faint outline of a bruise across his cheekbone.

Belle gasped. "What...why is he chained?" She darted to the stricken man's bedside, looking with horror at the manacles on his wrists and ankles.

"So he doesn't hurt anyone." Neal moved back a little.

Emma stepped up and laid a hand on Belle's arm. "Look, I know it seems cruel. But you have to understand, he asked for this."

"But why?" Belle looked close to tears.

"Because his magic is unpredictable, and sometimes he reacts badly to what's happening inside his head. Whatever the spell is doing to him, it's really hard on him."

Belle bit her lip, watching as Gold jerked, lips moving in a soundless plea. "He was always so kind to me, in the hospital. Always so gentle. I can't remember him, but he never got angry with me." She reached out to touch his brow, smoothing back the damp hair. "I know it hurt him, but he was never angry with me. Not even when I broke his cup."

"His cup?" Emma frowned.

"He brought in this chipped tea cup, the night before he came to say he was leaving. He asked me to look at it, because he thought it might help, but I was so frustrated...I threw it across the room and broke it. The look in his eyes..." Belle's breath hitched. "He never said anything, just gathered up the pieces and left, but..."

"Yeah. That chipped cup was important to him." Emma still remembered how he'd nearly beaten Moe French, the flower seller, to death for stealing it.

It certainly explained the cold fury that had possessed him when he'd come to demand that she come with him to New York, and quite possibly the bloody knuckles he'd given himself before they boarded the plane. She'd had no idea how much stress he'd been under at the time.

Belle watched Gold shiver again. He looked so...small. So broken. Then she looked at Neal, standing on the far side of the bed, his hands shoved in his pockets, and Emma. "I...could I stay? Help you with him?"

Emma glanced at Neal. "I don't have a problem with it."

Neal nodded. "Stay. He'd like to have you here."

"All right. I'll stay then." Belle moved toward the chair and settled down. Neal mirrored her.

Emma watched them both, and the man in between, then shifted her weight awkwardly. "So...I guess I'll go get you some changes of clothes. Anything else I can get you? Coffee? Food? Tea?"

Neal looked up. "Coffee would be great."

"Right. Coffee and clothes. I'll be back in a while." She took one last glance at the broken figure on the bed, then turned and headed for the door.

She just hoped she was doing the right thing, and that it would be enough.

***SM***

So many deals. So many things he'd done...

He'd forgotten a lot. After taking the seer's gift, he'd spent much of his time waiting, preparing. Waiting for all the pieces to fall into place as he trained himself in magic, built the curse line by line and spell by spell.

He'd had no attention to spare for anything else, for caring about anything else. Though he had given some thought on how to break his own curse, looking for a way to do it without losing his power.

He had made deals a-plenty over those long centuries. Dark deals. Cruel deals. Evil deals. And he'd done many things simply because he could do them. Over time, the unleashing of his anger had become a sort of tonic for him. So easy, to let the rage consume him, to lash out at whoever might have offended or angered him. So easy, and so much simpler and less painful than dealing with the grief and guilt that tortured him.

He lit a candle every year on his son's birthday, and he didn't take his anger out on children. But that was the extent to which he controlled the darkness inside of him.

The things he'd done...

Ripping out Milah's heart and cutting off Hook's hand were really just the beginning. Crushing people after turning them into snails, turning them into livestock, torturing people who dared offend him...he'd done it all. Writing out deals that he knew were cruel, perhaps even unjust, and watching people writhe in indecision and desperation.

He'd let the darkness consume him, and now he was forced to watch all that he had done, all the misery he had inflicted on others in the name of forgetting his own.

If Baelfire had thought he was a monster before, his son would have been truly horrified if he'd seen what he'd become after he'd fallen through the portal.

He couldn't blame it on the Dark One's curse, either. That had only given him the power to indulge his darkest moods and urges. The rage, the darkness, they'd always been there. Buried under his cowardice, his knowledge that he was too slightly built and lean to fight the way he wished. The rage after his father had abandoned him, his anger at being taunted as the son of a coward and a cheat, his helpless fury at being scorned simply for wanting a life with his son...all there all buried under the surface. Until the curse gave him free reign.

Without anything to fear, he'd discovered that he'd been a monster all along.

With nothing left to lose, he'd discovered just how evil he could be.

Small wonder Baelfire had wanted to escape him. Small wonder that people despised him, feared him, spoke his name in disgust and anger and horror.

He'd long since lost his voice to apologize, or tears to shed for what he'd done. Instead he watched, silent and aching, hands clenched until his nails gouged bloody crescents on his palms. Watched every single thing he had done. Twisting innocents. Hurting people. Preying on the desperate.

He was a monster. And nothing he could do, nothing he could say, would ever make up for this. He understood, now, why Zoso had chosen him for the curse. Not because of his desperation or his ignorance, but because the previous Dark One had known what lurked in his heart, the malice waiting to break free. The horror he was capable of.

He wanted to die, but he couldn't. Because nothing, not even his death, could possibly be an atonement for what he had done.

Another shift, another memory.

Rumplestiltskin watched, eyes wide and anguished, as one phrase spilled soundlessly over his lips like a dirge.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

Author's Note: So...Belle...and poor Gold...