Means of Exit

"So," Belle said as she lay the napkin down on the table next to her plate and silverware and looked up at Rumpelstiltskin, known to the town now as Mr. Gold, though that was something she had difficulty coming to terms with. "What did you want to see me about?"

"There is something I'd like for you to participate in, as a spectator, mostly," he replied. His hands fidgeted.

"It involves magic, doesn't it?"

"I know you disapprove, but I believe I may have a way to cross the town line without losing my memories. I don't know how well this will work, or for how long."

"Which is why you want me there?"

"Which is why I'm extending the invitation in the event that this works."

"You're going to try this on someone else."

"Would I honestly take such a huge risk with myself?"

"Alright," she said decisively, holding her hands up. "If anyone asks, you said none of this to me."

"I did say none of this to you. You figured much of it out for yourself, and I have to say, I'm impressed."

"Thank you."

"If I fail, though, then the invitation will need to be postponed."

"Of course. You wouldn't do this unless you were confident you had something that worked."

"We'll see soon enough."

Belle nodded pointedly and returned to her French Fries and ketchup.

OUAT

Smee had spent the next week pondering how to escape from Rumpelstiltskin's basement. Save for being released for meals, he was continually bound to a chair, surrounded by all forms of odd knick-knacks and magical objects from lands he didn't know, whose purposes he couldn't even begin to imagine. There were also charcoal sketches of masterpiece quality. The detail, the scale, proportions, accuracy... Smee couldn't remember the last time he saw anything like the sketches in Rumpelstiltskin's basement.

The door opened, and he heard Rumpelstiltskin limped down the stairs to him. "Oh, Mr. Smee, you're up," he said amiably. Smee wondered if he could be blamed for having a panic attack. "I never properly thanked you for your help in locating the person in the portrait, but I'm afraid I have to...ask another favor."

"I'm so screwed," Smee muttered. "What do you need now?"

Rumpelstiltskin held up a glowing emerald vial. "You're going to drink some of this and cross the town line."

"Are you nuts?"

"Hopefully I'm just nuts enough for this to work." He pocketed the vial, pulled out his knife, and cut Smee's bindings. He secured Smee's wrists behind his back and shoved him up the stairs, out the door, and into his car.

Smee decided it would be useless to keep track of where he was going if he was going to lose his memories anyway, so he settled back in the car and waited until Rumpelstiltskin parked and forced half the emerald potion down his throat. Smee stepped out of the car of his own free will, resigned to his fate, and walked across the spray-painted red line without taking his eyes off the forest road beyond. He got two steps outside the town line and stopped. He should have been stopped by the Barrier by now and stripped of every memory from his existence in the Enchanted Forest.

Rumpelstiltskin smiled, even as Smee turned and fled into the forest outside Storybrooke's limits.

OUAT

Belle stepped out of the car, and Rumpelstiltskin closed the door behind her and escorted her up to the spray-painted line. This plan of his must have worked very well, otherwise she wouldn't be here. Rumpelstiltskin uncorked a vial, threw back its contents, and threw the vial aside. Then he stepped over the line and turned to face her. Belle's eyes widened. "What...what did you do?"

"I did it," Rumpelstiltskin whispered, approaching her. "I can leave."

"What does that mean? I thought..."

"Bae, when he comes back, could end up outside of Storybrooke. I needed to know if I could leave, in case that were to happen."

"He's not here already?"

"He had a little trouble in his travels."

"What kind of trouble?"

"He got a little lost. I'm working on finding him and bringing him home."

"Is this even his home now? I figure he'd be used to the village he grew up in, or wherever he ended up spending the bulk of his three hundred year absence, if he was absent for three hundred years. I'm...I'm not really sure how all this is supposed to work."

"It's going to work out just fine. I'm sure of it." He lay his hands on her shoulders as he spoke. She visibly relaxed.

"Do me a favor," she said. "Tell your son the truth."

"What makes you think I'd lie to him?"

"Women's intuition." Rumpelstiltskin lowered his hands and sighed. If Belle didn't catch him, Bae or Morraine or both would, and the words, while vague, offered little room for manipulation, his usual tactic. "Please. Tell him the truth."

He licked his upper lip, and with a conviction both of them felt, he said, "I will."