"But you think that I can't see
What kind of man that you are
If you're a man at all
Well, I'll figure this one out
On my own (I'm screaming I love you so)
On my own (My thoughts you can't decode)"
Paramore - "Decode"
Sleep. All she wanted to do was sleep- fall into the blissful oblivion, her only escape from the constant weight of Rumpelstiltskin's unspoken pain. Spoken miseries were cathartic- it was the silent misery and ache that hurt and weighed down the spirit more. Unspoken pain, unresolved pain- both shackles to the darkness. Binding one to the past with the unasked and unanswered questions of 'why' and 'what if'. Questions that could never be answered.
Belle sat up in the bed, putting her hands to her temples, willing herself with every last piece of strength she had to build her wall up, only to fail.
She collapsed against the pillows, her hand over her heart. She checked to if the wound had opened, and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that it hadn't. The skin of her palm and breast remained as white as porcelain.
Still, something had to be done.
The moon had risen to the apex of the sky, providing her with enough light to find her robe and slippers. She walked out her room silently, taking the stairs to Rumpelstiltskin's laboratory.
The door was ajar, allowing Belle a glimpse into the room. She gasped quietly.
The room which she had spent the better part of the day cleaning, was now littered with shards of glass vials, potions and hidden desires staining the stone floor. She heard the crash of glass against the walls, felt the stab of disappointment and frustration from Rumpelstiltskin.
She gently opened the door and saw Rumpelstiltskin leaning against a wooden table, his back to her as he faced the window. The firelight of the room illuminated him enough for Belle to see the immeasurable sadness in his eyes- a sadness he usually succeeded in hiding.
She glanced down at his hands, grasping the wooden table tightly and saw the steady stream of blood trickle from his hands.
Belle gasped as she walked to him, mindful of the glass on the floor.
"What are you doing, dearie?" Rumpelstiltskin asked, not bothering to turn around, his grip on the table tightening further.
"It's quite difficult to sleep when the sound of glass vials crashing against stone walls can be heard a floor down," she said, facing him and gently taking his hands off the table.
He surrendered, allowing her to examine his hands. He saw her brow furrow when she saw the cuts and glass embedded in his palms.
Belle gently took his wrists and led him to the washroom, holding back her abilities as she remembered one of her rules.
"Physical wounds first. Emotional wounds next."
She placed his hands over an empty basin as she went to fetch some warm water. When she returned, Rumpelstiltskin's face remained blank, his features becoming clouded with darkness.
"You can be upset with me later. Your wounds need tending to," Belle said firmly, standing her ground. They had been respectful of each other's private spaces- his the lab, hers the library. She knew he was upset. Oddly, not at her.
Still, she knew, being the martyr she always was, would take away his pain tonight. Just to give him a sense of peace.
Belle ran the warm water over his hands, flinching when she heard him take a sharp breath.
She had washed the blood from his hands and gently patted the skin around the cuts dry.
Rumpelstiltskin felt her hands carefully inspect his own. He could see slight slivers of glass in the cuts. Looking up to face Belle, he saw hew frown. She wasn't sure of her ability to remove the slivers.
"It's nothing, dearie," Rumpelstiltskin said, gently pulling his hands away.
Belle still held on to one, looking into his eyes.
"At the very least, please let me put a salve on the wounds. You can magic the glass away, I know. At the very least, allow me to feel useful," Belle smiled.
Rumpelstiltskin returned her smile with a very small one of his, nodding his head.
Belle returned with the salve, realizing this would be her final chance of the night. He had another day ahead of him and it was best if he awoke in a more positive mindset.
As she gently rubbed the salve in, she slowly began to absorb the pain of his night. Still cautious that Rumpelstiltskin might be able to figure out what she was doing, she pointed out his stained fingers.
"From your potions, I suppose?"
"Yes," he replied, his eyes halfway closed.
She focused solely on his feelings from the lab. She could go further, deeper…but it would be a violation in her opinion- to delve so far into someone's past. But on the other hand, she felt wrong to take away the anguish and hurt from anyone. She had no right, yet she did it. But didn't the benefits away that?
Her soul felt full. Her heart ached at the frustration and anguish Rumpelstiltskin had experienced in the past few hours.
She took as much as she could before she could feel the wound on her breast slowly open.
"Will you be all right?" she asked, masking the pain.
Rumpelstiltskin opened his eyes, dark and alert.
Yes, dearie. Thank you," he said. She smiled, feeling that he was himself again.
She quickly ran back to her bedroom, gasping and clutching her heart, fighting the onslaught of pain and memories.
It wasn't just her pain or memories- it was much more than that. For all the pain and sadness and darkness she took, she relived them to an extent. In her short time in this world, she had experienced more than one thousand lives- lives touched by darkness, evil, loss, and regret.
She collapsed on her bed, still clutching her heart, crying. Not only for herself, but for all who felt.
This was the price she had to pay- the price for an unwanted power.
Rumpelstiltskin had taken out the slivers of glass from his palm, oddly at peace.
Yes, there was something odd about Belle. He could have sworn he felt magic in the room as she cleaned his hands, but then again, he had spilled potions on them.
Magic, true magic, was rare. For those to be born with it was even rarer.
But…there were always exceptions. There were always exceptional people. Belle was one of them.
No matter, now. He had a mess to clean up in his lab.
Belle woke up, the sunlight tickling her nose. She slowly moved, cautious of the fresh wound. Her nightdress was soaked with blood, as were the linens of the bed. Groaning, she stripped her soiled gown and went to bathe.
The water felt wonderful against her skin and she allowed herself to relax.
The nightmares had stayed in the recesses of her mind, allowing her wounded psyche time to recover.
She was grateful for that much.
Her mind began to drift, recalling the day Rumpelstiltskin had accepted her pleas for help regarding the War.
She had an ulterior motive. She was not a saint by any means. Years of court life and Gaston had shattered her spirit. Gaston's spirit and thoughts were dark and evil. He felt corrupted in his presence, all while having to maintain the façade of courtesy when all she truly wanted was to force him to look into the darkness of his own twisted soul.
She was grateful when Rumpelstiltskin had asked for her in return for the protection of the Kingdom.
She had sensed the darkness within him, but also something else. Loneliness and loss. For that alone, she had felt a deep kinship with him.
So, she had accepted.
Wincing as she dried herself off, she set about to do the day's chores.
"I trust you slept well," Rumpelstiltskin said, spinning at his wheel. He had yet to be called upon for any deals to be made and took this as a day of leisure.
"I did, thank you," Belle replied, straightening up the many artifacts Rumpelstiltskin had collected.
"You seem ill at ease, Belle," Rumpelstiltskin said softly. Belle had almost dropped the pewter vase she was putting away. The feelings of concern and sympathy shocked her.
"I…I'm fine. I'm just tired, is all," she stammered.
"Lying does not suit you, princess."
"Well, how about I get angry at a situation, destroy glass and vials, then allow wood to cut into my palm and have you tend to me," Belle retorted.
Rumpelstiltskin giggled at her remarks, hiding his concern with his care-free façade again.
"No matter, then, Rumpelstiltskin giggled further.
Belle groaned and contemplated throwing the pewter vase at him. But it would help neither of them. She finished tidying up and moved to the curtains, climbing up a small ladder.
"What are you doing, dearie?"
"Trying to let some light in. As much as firelight is beautiful, I don't think sunshine would turn you into ashes," she said, tugging fiercely on the heavy, ornate drapes.
Rumpelstiltskin stood and walked to her.
"What have you done? Nailed these on?" she asked, still tugging.
"Why not? Firelight suits me better," he replied.
With a heavy, harsh tug, Belle freed the draperies, losing her footing in the process.
Rumpelstiltskin caught her in his arms.
A sudden wave of emotion coursed through Belle, causing her to close her eyes and smile softly. For whatever reason, Rumpelstiltskin was feeling happy, if not slightly mischievous.
Immediately fearful she gad given herself up, she laughed.
"My apologies. I'm just a clumsy person," she laughed, doing her best not to allow her walls to break down like that again.
Rumpelstiltskin merely started at her, feeling rather odd. The way Belle had reacted intrigued him.
He felt a strange feeling of comfort, holding this young woman in his arms. He noticed a change in her appearance. She had looked exhausted moments ago, but now seemed to be lively, her eyes reflecting a certain level of mischievousness that he usually felt within himself.
Rumpelstiltskin had been a master at reading people and uncovering their thoughts, their intentions as his tenure as the Dark One. Yet, with Belle, it had seemed that he could read nothing from her mind- a book filled with beautifully empty pages.
"You are truly unique, Belle," he whispered, stroking her temple with one hand.
Belle closed her eyes, feeling sensations on a physical and emotional level. He was curious about her, intrigued and to a certain extent, captivated with her.
"I am only myself," she whispered back.
Rumpelstiltskin was running headfirst into a dangerous place. A place he had buried long ago and locked away, refusing to let them trivial emotion affect him ever again. He gently placed her down and cleared his throat.
"I have other duties to finish," she whispered, swallowing the hollow feeling that had built up. She walked out of the room, leaving Rumpelstiltskin in stunned silence.