I do not own any of the Once Upon a Time characters.
Where Are You?
She watched as the rain dripped off the window panes, gathering in a puddle at the bottom of their garden. It had been their garden, now it seemed it was just hers. Thunder slowly rumbles throughout the house and she winces at a bright flash of lightning. Even though the kitchen was dull without him, she walks in and grabs a Hershey kiss to try to ease the loneliness. It doesn't work, just makes her feel guilty for eating instead of working. Some asked, how could you be lonely when your married? I mean, some of us can't even find a date . . . here you are, married, with child, and you claim that a horrible case of loneliness has come over the household! Your crazy.
But she wasn't. Belle Gold wasn't because her husband wasn't hardly their anyways. He was at work, at his pawnshop five days a week and the rest was spent resting or asking her to do things. At first, she had brushed off the feeling, saying that she was pregnant and he was probably just figuring out what it meant to be a father again. Just needed some time.
Belle rubs her hand softly over her protruding belly, swallowing the lump forming in her throat. She shakes her head to toss the hair out of her reddening face. This wasn't what she had dreamed when she had placed a ring on his finger, vowing she was his and his only. She hadn't dreamed he would be too busy to come home early when she was throwing up and couldn't cook supper; hadn't dreamed he would go to bed as soon as he did come home, not even hardly finishing a conversation with her. She thought her dreams were accurate. But what was accurate? Him whispering into her stomach little words to their child, blowing raspberries into her stomach until it kicked? Holding her hair when she vomited and allowing her to sit for a few hours since her back felt like it was on the verge of splitting in two? Maybe instead of scowling at her mood swings, just allowing her to yell at him instead of walking away and then holding her when she exhausted herself doing so. Understanding that she couldn't be perfect.
Today she had gotten an ultrasound. Soft tears fall on the little pictures of the infant, curled into a little ball with the cord in between it's legs. There was something else between the two legs though, and that told her what she had been anxious about ever since she had gotten pregnant. It was a boy. She was a mother, and he was her son. She leans forward on the counter, staring at the picture and sobbing. But how would she tell her husband? He would want supper when he walked through the door, and then he might watch some TV or go downstairs to work. He would ask her how she was and she would say 'fine' because, well, isn't that the right answer? She shakes her head and grabs a tissue, blowing her nose. Would he even come back tonight? Her body begins to shake and she collapse on the couch, sobbing.
Loneliness wasn't the only thing that made her cry. She had been lonely her whole life, even in the dark castle on many days because he was off making deals. What made her cry was the realization that he had been coming home later and later. To her, the evidence was clear. There was someone else, someone younger, prettier, kinder perhaps. Someone he would rather spend his time with instead of his overly emotional, fat wife. Even the phone bills had been slowly climbing. It had been exactly two months since he had kissed her. Before that, he hadn't done so often until it slowed down to be a very delicate subject since he hardly ever offered it.
Her phone buzzes and she grimaces, knowing it was the supper alarm. She turns it off and sets it on the floor, staring out the window. Her feet were swollen and her eyes were puffy and her belly was knocking into everything it could reach. She curls into a little ball, feeling more hot tears slide down her face at the thought of him seeing another. He had promised her, he had promised her forever.
She awakes at the sound of tires pulling up the driveway. Two headlights pierce through the darkness and she grimaces, noticing that tonight was even later then the last. Supper. After splashing water on her face, she turns and begins chopping an onion, wincing as the knife slips and digs into her finger. A car door shuts and she bites her lip, wrapping the finger in a napkin to prevent contamination. His cane echos as he climbs the stairs and she notices the emergency light flip on, sensing his presence. Quickly, she flips the oven on to begin warming the pot. Her son kicks and she winces, feeling it on her bladder. "Why?" she says, scowling, working faster to get as much prepared as possible. A few rattles and the door is open, the sound of jingling keys being thrown on the chair causing her to tense. How many times must I tell him to put them on the key ring? She had painted it specifically for him, a beautiful chipped cup with the ring as the handle. But the cup had been thrown away. She begins to tear up again, blaming them on that stupid onion. He makes his way to the dining room, setting something heavy on the table. Maybe he dealt for something . . . again.
"Belle?" she hears him call softly. She bites her tongue, knowing if he cared at all he might take the time to find her. She stuffs the ultrasound pictures into her pocket and pulls up her hair, regretting having to see his face yet another time. One of these days he wasn't going to come home. One of these days, he wouldn't even need her anymore. Somebody else would have taken her place in his heart, and he would be more then glad to get her off his back. She hears him take off his jacket, replacing it with a more comfortable one. Something else is put on the table and she hears him enter the kitchen. She feels him approach her from behind and jerks around, accidentally letting go of the bloody napkin. She ignores it, staring at him instead, trying to find some trace of happiness at seeing his precious wife. She finds little evidence of any such feeling. "I'm sorry I am late," he begins –
"No," she interrupts, biting back tears all while trying to glare at him. "Your not." He stares at her, lost for words. She stirs the pasta a bit more and turns back around. "Who is it?" she hisses.
"Who? What – "
"Who has taken my place!" he backs away, noticing how upset she is. Tears begin to stream down her face and he leans on the counter beside her, waiting for her to explain. "Your out late every night, you come home, you work, you sleep. I mean, I understand," she begins, stirring the pasta viciously. "I understand but I work too. I clean and cook and form babies in my stomach and I try so hard to make you happy." She pauses, wiping tears from her eyes. "But it's not enough. Who is the other woman?"
He reaches out, wiping the tears from her eyes with his thumbs. He hadn't realized what him being gone so often had caused until now; he hadn't realized how bad she was hurting because of him.
"There is no other woman, precious Belle. You are the only one I could ever spend my life with." She backs away, opening the fridge and shaking her head.
"You don't love me like you used too." He takes her wrist and gently pulls his pregnant wife towards him.
"Your right." She looks down, waiting for him to ask for a divorce, deny their child of a father. "I love you more." He takes her hand and feels something warm pool on his wrist. "Belle," he cries, "Your bleeding!"
"That's what I am saying," she replies dryly. "If this had happened two months ago, who would have basically smelt it the moment you walked in." He scowls, turning off the oven. What had he done? She thought he didn't love her when in reality, he couldn't live without her. He looked forward to seeing her every night, but she looked so drained from being pregnant he didn't want to cause any problems by forcing her to spend time with him. He loved her more then he loved anything else in the universe and somehow he had messed it up big time. She turns the oven back on and he turns it back off, ignoring the glare she gives him.
"Give me your hand," he demands gently. "Please." Eventually she does, and he examines the wound carefully while she watches him. It may need stitches but he had more important things to worry about besides that at the moment. He leads her to the recliner and guides her to sit, relieved when she doesn't complain. Wanting to reassure her doubts about his wanting to be with her, he gets the first aid kit and manually wraps up her finger, carefully dabbing it with cleaning solution and then bandaging it as to prevent further damage or infection. She sheds few tears, biting her lip to the point of bleeding. She had never liked crying in front of him. He wipes them away and helps her back up, noticing the way she favors her ankles. Her feet are swollen and he hisses, imagining the pain that must bring. She doesn't notice though, just stares into the distance and allows him to guide her like a tired child. He orders some food online and wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer on the couch. She mumbles something and he turns, shutting the computer with a click.
"Hey," he whispers, giving Belle his full attention. She grins a bit, still unsure about their future but glad he had tonight to spare. She closes her eyes, laying her pounding head on his shoulder. "Hey," he whispers again, bending down to kiss her. She obliges gladly, returning the kiss and allowing him to trace his fingers across her stomach. "Sweetheart," he says quietly before kissing her again. "please don't assume I have been with someone else. I would never do that to you, dear. Never in a million years." She kisses him again and he presses her against the couch, trying to be gentle but finding it hard with the need he had been denying since she got pregnant. He kisses her tears away, pulling her even closer.
"Rumple," she whines teasingly. He grins, knowing she hardly ever called him that unless she was very content and happy. He giggles impishly and she laughs. His Belle had asked him multiple times how he did that being human. He had never answered that question, leaving her to her curiosity instead.
"Lay down," he says, kissing her forehead. She rolls her eyes but does so, her legs unable to stay together with her behemoth stomach. Noticing her struggle to breath he lifts her up on a few pillows. "Now, you are going to stay here until I get back with the reason I have been out so late. You will understand." He gets up from kneeling beside her and walks into the dining room, where a box of specifically designed chocolates sit inside a heart shaped box. He had to call that company over and over just to get his spot in they had been so packed, and amongst all that trouble everyone in the neighborhood had been either asking him for things or giving him advice. It drove him insane, not to mention that traffic had been awful and for the past two weeks – his leg had froze up in the shop nearly every night, not allowing him to leave until he let it rest. He opens the box and takes a couple rose and chipped cup pieces out, walking back a few minutes later. Her eyes are closed as she hums an old tune he had heard her sing many times in his castle. She hadn't known he was listening.
"Sweetheart," he says, bringing her out of her daze. She opens her eyes, blushing a bit.
"Sorry, I get a bit carried away." He grins.
"I find your voice to be beautiful," he replies. She sits up a bit more.
"So, what's the surprise," she asks excited. He smirks, popping a chocolate in his mouth.
"Guess you shall find out." She eyes him warily as he crawls above her, bending down and kissing her. She moans as dark raspberry chocolate melts in her mouth and she comes in harder, searching for more. He sits back up.
"Believe me now?" he asks, teasingly but still wary. She sighs, laying back down.
"Listen, you have been coming home later and later. When I call you hardly answer and it just seems like your avoiding me until I act concerned." He closes his eyes, the words breaking his heart. She sits up, wiping away a few tears. "You spend so much time working while I stay here or hang out with my girlfriends, just trying to find some company." She pauses, looking down as he watches her, fighting the lump forming in his throat. "Do you even know me anymore?" she asks quietly. He immediately pulls her into his chest.
"Of course I do, precious Belle. Of course I know you – I love you." He pauses, bringing his fingers through her hair. "Gosh, I love you so much Belle. Sometimes I don't know what to do with myself because if I truly showed you the vastness of my love for you, I'd have to take out this town just to begin painting a proper picture." He pulls her into his lap, ignoring her complaints about being the size of a whale. To him, she was nothing but a feather, even with a baby. "It's just, I have been too busy. Would you like to make a deal with me?" She looks up, searching for sincerity. She finds it in his eyes, which are blinking back tears. Clearly he had been missing her just as much. He didn't know what to do about it, and now he was stuck trying to gain her trust.
"That depends on the deal." His pulse quickens, excited by the thought of another deal. This was his life, and now he was going to make one with the most important person in his world.
"Let me take this week off work to...do stuff with you –" She interrupts.
"Do stuff with me? How about defile me in as many ways as you can think of, oh loyal Dark One. That would be a good start." He blinks, startled by her bluntness. Of course, he would be more then happy to oblige. He continues after she lays her head back on his chest and sighs.
"Alright, defile my wife and prove to her in several different ways how much I love her. And when I go back to work, I shall threaten all the people who keep me there late until they run with their tails in between their legs, and I shall come home to my lovely wife who I just figured out actually needs me during her pregnancy." She leans up and kisses him, sealing the deal once and for all.
"What jerk told you I didn't need you during pregnancy?" He scowls.
"I assumed you wanted to be left alone. In my old village, men who had never drank would show up at a bar as soon as their wives were pregnant. The woman would mostly care for themselves, pushing the men away closer and closer to the due date. I thought that was normal, and you wouldn't want to see me."
"Rumple, Rumple, Rumple," she sighs, "Always assuming." He laughs, looking forward to the next week. He would prove his love for her if it was the last thing he did. She pulls the photos out of her pocket.
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