Part 14
He clears his throat after the moment of quietness between them, ready to continue the tale of the cup which once was made of the very shards they are looking at.
"Regina set your father up to steal the cup from me. The Sheriff locked me up for beating up your father. Before I could arrange for my release from prison, Regina paid me a visit. She offered me the cup... in return for my name."
"Why would she want to know your name?" she asks, understanding by the stake of the bargain that his name must be very important, but not seeing how that can be so. "Didn't she know it already?"
"She wasn't certain about it yet in this world. Names hold power, dear. I had regained my memories of our real identities and histories, of both our true goals and purposes. Regina and I weren't exactly on good terms when we left the Enchanted Forest. She didn't know for sure whether I remembered who I really am, and thus to which extent I was willing, not to mention capable, to go against her. When she forced me to tell her my name, my true name, she knew for certain that I indeed know the truth."
"I understand."
She can most certainly see why he agreed to that trade, the cup for a confirmation of his true identity. At the same time, it seems a bit strange that he forced Regina to go through such lengths to find out about his name while he told her so easily. After all, she didn't doubt him for a second when he told her that names have power, whatever that means exactly.
Of course, she supposes that he trusts her as much as he distrusts the cruel woman, but to give it so freely to her, before he could be certain that they would end up connecting like this...
"Rumple is your real name, isn't it?"
"It is, sweetheart. In a manner of speaking, at least."
"What do you mean by that exactly?" she demands, although there is no suspicion in her voice. A remark such as this would have made her yet more distrustful of him only a while ago, but now she doesn't believe any longer that he would lie to her, or purposefully keep things from her.
"My name, my real name, is Rumplestiltskin. You used to call me Rumple. I like that, very much so. I'm far from fond of my full name. I didn't tell you it before because I was afraid it would sound too... unbelievable. I didn't want to confuse or scare you any further."
"I'm glad. If you would have asked me to call you Rumplestiltskin at the very beginning... well, I don't know much about names, but it probably would indeed have appeared very strange to me. I might have thought that you were fooling me. I wouldn't have wanted that, especially not now I have gotten to know you like this. I know now that you wouldn't mislead me like that."
There's something which crosses his face that's quite unlike the dislike he hinted at when talking about his full name when she says his real name for the first time. It makes her realize that there's at least a part of him that revels in being addressed by her like this. It's another insight that she stores away in her mind for later use.
"When I regained possession of the cup, I kept it in my shop from then on," he says, continuing his narration. "It's safer there and I spent more time there anyway."
He speaks matter-of-factly and her heart breaks a little more for him upon finding out just how much his house sounds more like a mere building than anything else. It's far from the safe haven, the cozy and comfortable home, that she would like it to be - for his sake, and her own.
"You spotted it there, when you were freed from here for the first time. You seemed... surprised that I still had it."
She doesn't know whether her actual self was taken aback by the fact that the object showed up in this world, or that he had hold onto it with such fierceness to begin with.
She can only hope that she, in her other lifetime, wasn't surprised because he kept an item which obviously means so much to him.
"I have kept it in the shop ever since. I liked to look at it, to remember, especially when you left again. By then, I had half a house full of the things I acquired for you... but nothing reminded me as much of you as the cup did."
Considering his words carefully, she is more and more under the impression that he perceived and treated her exactly like the cup. It sounds exactly like he saw her as something very precious that he never dared getting close to, let alone touch, something to treat with extreme care out of fear for damaging her.
She'd much rather have him actually interact with her, touching her, living with her. She's a person, not an object, and she won't break all that easily. But words aren't enough to convey that and neither suffices the time that has been granted them now. It's something that she'll have to show him, slowly and gradually. She can only hope that she'll have that chance.
"So with magic there's a way to fix the cup?" she says, thinking back of the question that started all this. "But you don't want to use it?"
"It seems wrong to use magic for this. It would be too easy, too neat. It doesn't suit what we are going through."
"It doesn't," she mutters, agreeing that it wouldn't be right to repair the cup with only a puff of purple smoke and a flick of his wrist after all this. And yet, to leave the cup like this, broken in dozens of tiny pieces... that isn't right either. "Is there no other way? Something more... suitable?"
"We could try a way that's more... traditional in this world. I don't know whether it will truly work, but... we could give it a try."
His hopeful expression persuades her as much as her own curiosity does.
"How can we do that?"
"By repairing the cup ourselves, without any help. Well, not of any magical kind at least. Let me show you."
There's a snap of his fingers and more purple smoke. It reveals a tube when it clears. He hands it to her as soon as it has materialized.
"It's glue," she says, reading the letters that are printed on it, but not fully understanding them.
It's only at his pleasantly surprised expression that she realizes what she just managed.
"I can read," she breathes, awed. There was no reason for her to presume that she wouldn't be able to, but in the same way there was no proof that she would. She has gone for so long without anything with letters on it which she might attempt to decipher, that it didn't occur to her to go looking for something like that now that she can.
"You enjoy reading. A lot. In the past, at least. I'll make sure to get you all your favorite books - and all others, If you'd like. You might still enjoy them."
"That would be lovely," she says, thoroughly delighted by the prospect.
But for now, she is focused on the little tube. She might be able to understand the words which are printed boldly on it, but that doesn't mean that she actually understands what it does.
"It's a sticky substance that allows us to keep parts of a variety of kinds of materials together."
"Like the pieces of the cup!" she cries out, excited. "We can put it back together."
"Indeed we can," he replies, his smile wider than it has ever been before.
"Can we get started right now?"
"Most certainly, if you would like to."
"I do," she replies, finding herself almost bouncing on her seat in excitement.
There's yet more purple smoke and then there's a table in front of them, giving them a perfect workspace. Understanding his intention, she carefully gathers the shards from the little table at her side, making sure to pick up even the smallest ones.
Once she has them all, she solemnly places them on the new surface in front of them. Subconsciously, she places the pieces right between them and sorts them, from the largest to the smallest parts.
Before she has put them all down, she already notices that several of the larger pieces clearly fit together. Excitement of a kind she never knew before coming over her, she picks up those pieces and starts to fit them together, trying them in various ways until both the blue pattern on the white porcelain and the shape of the cracks is a perfect fit.
Almost having forgotten that he is there, she is reminded of his presence when he screws the lid off the tube and hands it to her, his expression one of hope and pride.
She is having her hands full at the moment, not being able to take the tube without letting go off at least one of the pieces. And although it was surprisingly easy to fit those first pieces together, she doesn't have a clue how to actually use the glue which he acquired.
"Can you do that?"
"Of course," he says, sounding so very joyed at the prospect that she wonders why he didn't propose to do it in the first place.
She watches with fascination when he puts some of the semi-liquid from the tube onto the edges of the shards and then gestures for her to put them together, like she just already did a moment ago.
She does as she suggests, smiling in delight when she feels the forming connection between the pieces. Her smile fades quickly though when she inhales the scent of the glue.
She gags when a smell stronger than anything she can remember assaults her senses. Even the stuff that was used to clean her cell in the basement every once in a while didn't smell as bad as this does.
"What is it?" he asks, panicking.
"The smell," she manages, pointing at the tube he's still holding. "It's awful."
There is no purple haze this time, but the most unpleasant smell is gone just a second later.
"Thank you," she says, figuring that he must have used magic of a different kind than the one she has witnessed before in order to vanish the scent of the glue.
He glares at the tube with a frown on his face, as if he can punish the substance for upsetting her by merely looking at it.
"I should have realized..."
"Should have realized what?"
"The scent is indeed quite strong. It can already be unpleasant for people in a normal condition, but you... It seems like your senses react as if they have never experienced something like this before."
"And they have?" she deduces from his tone.
"Yes. You are used to much worse. There's a traditional method I use for waterproofing some of the items in my shop. It requires lanolin, which is harvested from the wool of sheep. It's scent is quite... peculiar. Very strong, too. It didn't stop you from joining me in the back of my shop, where I do repairs and other maintenance work, such as waterproofing. You said you liked to watch me work."
"I can imagine," she says quietly. She is relieved to hear that she used to come over to him, just so she could watch him; she doesn't need any memories in order to know how much that must have meant to him.
At the same time, it might explain why she is so very fond of doing nothing but watching this most intriguing man; it's a trait which has been part of her, somewhere, all along.
"It seems that you senses are to at least some extent linked to your memories. I got to admit that I don't know whether this is normal or whether it's related to the magical... nature of your memory loss. We can ask Dr. Whale about it, if you'd like."
"I think I do, yes," she says, considering. She wants to know as much about her condition as she can. Not just because she wants to make full use of the fact that she can actually learn things about herself, or at least about what is wrong with her, but also because she finds herself experiencing a general curiosity regarding the possible effects of magic on people's health.
"Maybe you'd like to finish this first?" he asks, gesturing at the two pieces of porcelain of which she's barely aware that she's still holding them. "I imagine that Dr. Whale isn't available here anyway, at this hour."
There's something about his tone that implies that he's going to talk to the doctor no matter how if she would want that, but there is no need for that for as far as she is concerned. She is currently well anyway and it would be nice not to have any medical staff around for just a while longer.
In fact, she's much better than she has ever been, based on the memories which she does have. Besides, she's enjoying just being here with him far too much to even think of going somewhere else or talk to anyone else.
"Yes, I'd like to do this first," she simply says, focusing her attention on the shards once more, the awful scent of the glue already all but forgotten.
She hasn't looked at the shards since he banished the smell of the stuff that she just put between the bits of porcelain. Now it turns out that the sticky semi-liquid is not moist any longer.
Eyes widening in delighted surprise, she sees that the two pieces of china are all but fused together, almost as if they never had been apart to begin with. Even when she lets go of one of them, the two parts remain together despite the limited support from her.
"This world may not have magic, but it has some very interesting things to offer nonetheless," he says, smiling and not taking his eyes off the cup.
"Do you suppose we could repair the whole cup like this?" she asks, critically eying the admittedly large number of small pieces before them.
"I think so. We can try at the very least."
"I'd really like that, yes."
Reaching for the pieces again, she knows that this isn't just about the cup itself. It's just as much about the repairs in their own right, at the challenge of fixing the cup together – of the joy that both of them find in the task.
He gives her a piece, along with a tentative smile. Breaking her gaze away from the beauty of his expression to take a good look at the china, she notices that the blue figure on the new piece matches that of the two combined shards she's already holding.
From there on, it takes her only a short while to find out just how two halves of a delicately painted twig are supposed to fit. Before she can ask for it, he has the tube of glue at the ready and applies a few careful drops to both the single piece in her hand and the two parts she already combined in her other.
Once that's done, she carefully presses both sides against one another, watching with fascination how the liquid gradually hardens and connects the pieces.
More pieces follow, more dollops of glue and gentle brushes of hands. They share muttered instructions and timid smiles. The shards get smaller and become more difficult to attach to the slowly forming cup in their joined hands, but it doesn't matter now that they are sitting closely to one another once more and are repairing the cup together.
I'm sorry it took me more than three weeks to update this story. That said, the fic might go on hiatus for a while longer because I have finally found a good job, which unfortunately requires me to move to the other side of the country.
Once I'm settled into my new life, I fully intend to complete this story :)