Part 20

He swallows heavily, but his eyes are warm and hopeful once more as they remain on her. She relaxes right along with him, knowing that he isn't lost any longer in the memories that have haunted him for so long.

"I was convinced that I would feel only more guilt when I crawled into your bed," he says, continuing to explain why the bed from her childhood home is so familiar to him. "You may not have used it for about a year, but it was still yours... and it was the last of your possessions I'd ever thought to use myself, because it was so personal."

"But you didn't feel guilt," she concludes, studying him intently. "Or at least, you felt something else more strongly."

"Indeed. It was only in my own mind, of course, but there was some rightness in lying right where you had spent so many nights. The sheets and the pillows... they still smelled like you. Not to human senses perhaps, but I could pick up your lingering scent."

He pauses again, but only to move yet a bit more closer to her, inhaling deeply as he brushes the top of her head with his nose.

"If I focused enough, if I fooled myself enough, it was like you had simply left for your work in the morning and that you would return at any moment. I imagined, Belle. I could almost, almost believe it. For you to come into the room, ready for bed. Wearing a lovely nightgown, your hair down... that you would just slide between the sheets, into my arms..."

He traces his knuckles over her cheek, barely touching her but reaching into her very soul. Covering his hand with her own, she locks her gaze with his, wanting him to believe that his memories, real and legit as they are, are no more than that.

"It was the only comfort I had had in weeks. I allowed myself to give in to the illusion, to pretend as much as I could. With a spell I changed into my nightclothes and I gathered your pillows around me, holding the biggest one against me as if..."

He doesn't need to complete the sentence for her to understand that he clung to a pillow in an attempt to hold on. Not just to the memory of her, but to life itself; to find the will to keep going.

"I finally slept that night. And I dreamed. About the past, about my plans for the future. But I mostly dreamed about you. Not about what could have been, if it hadn't been for my stupidity and stubbornness, but about what did happen between us. The moments of happiness you gave me. Your faith in me, your kindness... your smiles."

She may have thought that she must have run out of tears throughout the time they have spent together this night, but yet more of the salty liquid gathers in her eyes as she imagines him in the very bed before her, burying his head in her pillows and surrounded by her sheets as if to escape from reality itself.

"It was far past noon when I woke again. I felt better. Much as I preferred to dwell on the guilt and sadness of losing you, dreaming about you like that made me realize that wasn't what you would have wanted. You always had such faith in me, such high hopes... I wanted to honor that as much as I could, for your sake. If that was the only thing I could do for you, then I would."

He looks at her, silently pleading, and she nods in approval. She isn't certain about what the woman who she once was might have thought of that, but she definitely is glad that he didn't give up, if only because of the memory of her.

Then again, at this point, she's quite confident that she would have thought the same thing before she lost her memories.

"I'm so glad that I did, Belle. It was never easy. There was never a day that I didn't think of you, that I didn't long for you. Not a night without regret. But now that the years have passed, now that we are here, together again after all... it was worth it. It was all worth it."

He has never let go of her, by now doing something wonderfully lovely with his fingers at the back of her neck. He smiles a little and she knows that he's no longer touching her to remind himself that she is truly as alive as she appears to be; he simply caresses her like this because both of them enjoy such touches so very much.

"When I awoke in your bed, as alone as I had been the weeks before, I couldn't deny to myself any longer that you were never coming back. But I felt slightly better because I was rested and woke up surrounded by your things. I left quickly, but not before returning your room to the state it had been in before I arrived. I didn't feel any longer like I... tainted it."

"I think I would have understood," she says, wanting to make that as clear to him as she can. "I do. I want you to take comfort in the things that I left. I would do exactly the same if it were the other way around."

"Let's hope it'll never come to that," he replies quietly, his features ever so grave. "And if it does... I hope there'll be a way for me to carry that burden for you instead."

It fills her with only more affection, yet also more sadness, to find that he would gladly bear all her sorrow and despair on his own shoulders.

"I think we've had enough misery for quite some time," she says, purposefully not giving him a direct answer.

"Indeed," he says, withdrawing his hands from her. "We might be in luck for once."

There's something in his voice telling her that he means it, that he's finally starting to see that their relationship, even now, isn't doomed per definition.

"We have to believe, Rumple. And we have to work for it. Maybe more than we did in the past."

"I know. We may have to fight. Maybe not only against those who try to keep us apart, but in my case also against ourselves. Against myself. I was afraid, sweetheart. Afraid to let you in, to be completely honest with you. Because I feared that you would be horrified by what you would find if I were to do that. But after the past few days... I truly don't want to be without you. It doesn't matter anymore if that means that I have to give up things, that I might have to be... weak."

"You'll never be weak when you share your fears and worries with people you trust." She doesn't know where that conviction is coming from, only that her heart tells her just how true those words are. "You'll only be stronger."

One moment they are standing opposite one another, the distance between them limited but most certainly there, and then she is fully enveloped by two strong arms, dragging her almost powerfully against her love's chest.

He has embraced her before, her mind filled with a number of such pleasant occurrences throughout the evening. But not earlier she has noticed just how strong he is, clinging to her as if he intends never to let go.

Maybe it's her words that have given him strength, or perhaps it's simply because he can reach easier for her now that they are standing next to one another. Either way, she holds on to him for all that she is worth, savoring the tight yet tender grip of his arms around her.

Her grasp on him is just as strong, her arms as tight around him as they can be and her fingers digging into his back. The strength she finds in her muscles is yet more proof that she has lived instead of being locked up in the past few months.

"I'm not afraid anymore."

His words are little more than ragged breath against her neck, but they have her gasping, her heart leaping with joy. No matter the experiences he remembers, no matter the ones she does not, this is what matters. Him, her, and this honesty between them... this courage.

She can't think of anything to say to this. Although she knows only of him what she has learned throughout the evening, she is aware how much it means for him to feel like this, and to share it with her.

But there are no words needed to confirm what they have accomplished, just by being together and talk, really talk. She simply moves her finger into his hair, caressing his nape, to show him that she understands.

Because in the end - memories or not, magic or not - he is just a man and she is just a woman. He is no longer scared, and neither is she.

He moves into their embrace with every fiber of his being, sighing deeply against her in contentment, never loosening his hold on her.

She closes her eyes, snuggling against him, burying herself in the solidness of his frame, in the safety of his arms. Her head is right above his heart and she happily listens to its firm beat. Feeling it pulse in the same rhythm as her own, she marvels at being so very close to the source of his love for her.

He holds her like that for a wonderfully long time. But he draws back from her eventually, giving her a slightly chagrined smile.

"It's time for both of us to get some much needed rest."

She agrees with him, but that doesn't make it any easier to retreat from the wonderfulness of his embrace, as soothing as it is exciting.

Still, when he tucks a curl of hair behind her ear and lets his fingers brush against her neck for just a moment, it's clear that there's nothing to be reluctant about. She is tired and his love for her won't end when he leaves her for this single night... far from it.

"Does the bed suffice?"

Glancing back at the luxurious four-poster that's right where her hospital bed used to be, she chuckles a little. It's both amusing and just a bit worrying that he could think that the bed might not meet her approval, never mind how out of place it is in the rest of the ever so empty and generally unpleasant room.

"It most certainly does."

Looking back at him, her smile falls. She would rather sleep in the hospital bed - or in her excuse of a bed in the cell in the basement, really - if that meant that she wouldn't have to be separated from him for the night. Knowing that he'll be back in the morning isn't nearly the same as having him right at her side throughout the night.

But she understands why he insists on leaving for now and she accepts that it's important for him that she spends one night on her own, just so she can consider everything that has happened between them before deciding, entirely on her own accord, that going with him is indeed truly what she wants.

"We won't share this bed tonight," he says, her sobered expression doubtlessly telling him exactly what she is thinking. "But we will after tonight, if that's what you'd like."

She nods pointedly, despite the notion that there are no words to persuade him that there's nothing she'd rather want than being with him. She supposes that only really living with him can do that, that actually spending their days together will be the only proof that such a thing is possible after all.

Then again, his determination not to pressure her into any decision only makes it easier to see that nothing could bring her as much happiness as being with him, and not just throughout the day.

He smiles a little, no doubt aware once more along which lines she is thinking.

"I'll relocate the bed to our house when you come home... and I'll join you whenever you like me to."