Part 26
"Rumple!"
He blinks a few times in quick succession as he leans heavily against her, looking straight past her. It's as if he can hear her, but is unable to determine where the sound of her voice is coming from.
She can barely think over the sound of her heart racing and her blood rushing in her ears. She doesn't allow herself to think that this is all her fault, that she should have stopped him like she in all likelihood would have done if only she could remember who she actually is, who she should be.
She wouldn't have been able to believe it before she actually got to know him tonight, and a part of her may still fear that it's too good to be true, but she doesn't doubt herself nearly as much as she used to.
She knows that she has lost her memories, that she can't remember who she is, but she also knows that she isn't any less of a person because she can't recall the past, both theirs and her own.
More than anything, he has given her faith. In herself, in them.
So she takes a deep breath and steels herself when her True Love fully collapses against her, holding on to her even now that practically all his strength has deserted him.
Supporting him as well as she can, she guides him towards to the nearest comfortable surface. While doing so, she cherishes the unexpected strength in her own body when she keeps up the majority of his weight on their way to the bed he conjured for her earlier.
Nothing happens when they go through the barrier he just created, save a tingle of the same warmth and protectiveness she sensed when he raised the wards.
She helps him to lie down heavily on the bed. For a lack of knowing what else to do, she carefully runs her hands just above every inch of bare skin to check for any injuries.
Other than the signs that he has just completely exhausted himself physically, she can't find any.
His eyes are closed as he lies on the bed, his breath shallow. Although it may look like it at first glance, there's no doubt that he isn't simply sleeping.
There's no reaction from him when she cups his cheeks in her hands, caressing his chin lightly with her thumbs.
"Rumple?"
She's hardly surprised when he doesn't react. At least he doesn't appear to be in any pain, but that's only a small comfort to her.
Not taking her hands from his face, she considers him, lying there like that, unusually still and so very, very pale.
She recalls what he has told her about True Love's Kiss. Far away as it may seem now, it can't have been long ago at all when he explained that a kiss between them can undo so many unpleasant things.
Of course, what she remembers yet more vividly is his hesitance to try this act, both in fear of upsetting her and for not experiencing the effects of True Love's Kiss upon the meeting of their lips in the first place.
They may have decided before not to try it, a peaceful relationship between them more important than her memories, but there's a lot more at stake now. He needs her, perhaps in a way she has never needed him.
So she leans over him, her hands trembling on the mattress on either side of his head as she closes the distance between them. His breath is warm against her face, and she imagines that the rush of air is already stronger than it was a moment ago.
"Please wake up, Rumple..." she mutters, her voice despite the circumstances not only filled with worry as she experimentally angles her head.
Her eyes flutter closed as she brings her mouth to his, anticipation welling up inside of her. Much as she does this only to help him, she's very much aware that, in a way, this is the first time that they'll kiss – or at least, the first time she'll be able to remember.
"Belle..."
His voice is so quiet that she barely hears it, croaked as if from long disuse, but he undeniably says her name just before their lips brush.
"Rumple!" she cries out, withdrawing immediately when she hears him speak again at last.
His eyes fly open when she moves back, looking past her once more, as if he still can't see her.
"It's all right," she quickly says, supposing that he needs to be put at ease more than anything else. "You're with me, you're safe. We both are."
He blinks heavily a few times. Then his eyes focus on her after all, wide and wild.
"Belle?" he asks, sounding as if he's thoroughly surprised to find her at his side.
"Yes, Rumple, it's me."
Tempted as she is to ask him what has happened to him, what he was doing, she focuses on making him feel better first.
Spotting the handkerchief in the pocket of his suit jacket, she takes it to wipe the sweat from his face. His eyes close again as she tentatively dries his skin, but he mutters her name again, convincing her that he hasn't lost himself again like he just did.
His breathing gradually becomes calmer, his body slowly recovering from whatever he just did.
She puts the handkerchief back where she got it once she has dried his neck as well, caressing his shoulder while some color returns to his face.
"What happened?" she asks when his breath is more or less regular again and his eyes open once more.
"I... I went too far," he says, not meeting her gaze. "I lost control."
"Are you all right now?" she asks, fearing that whatever took hold of him might come back.
"I am, yes," he says, hesitating just a moment too long for her liking.
He may look a lot better than he did before, but he still appears to be very tired, making no effort to sit up. Given his earlier determination to leave, she presumes that his lack of movement is due to exhaustion rather than a change of mind to stay with her for at least a while longer.
So she just sits there with him, guiding his head to rest on her thigh as if it were a pillow.
"Magic is fueled by emotions," he says, his eyes calm and fully focused as he looks up at her. "Practicing magic is walking a thin line between summoning the emotions that are required to perform the magic without being consumed by them."
She nods, understanding, grateful that he is both open and well enough to offer an explanation.
"My magic is usually dark. It needs anger, hatred. I'm... well accustomed to that. The magic I used for the wards is of a much lighter kind. I used my love for you to channel the energy. I wanted to make the wards as strong as I could, to keep you as safe as possible, and..."
He trails off, his eyelids dropping.
"Rumple?"
"I'm fine," he ensures her, blinking again. He yawns as well, trying but not quite managing to prevent her from noticing.
Convinced that he is more exhausted than anything else, she presses an affectionate kiss against his cheek, relieved that he is out of whatever danger he was in.
"It needed to be strong, Belle," he says, yawning once more. "But I'm not used to this magic, based on so much love... it got stronger than me. But you pulled me back. You always do."
"I hope you'll be more careful in the future," she replies, torn between her gratitude for his protection, of the love behind it, and her shock that he would take this risk for her sake.
"The wards are very strong," he says, telling her everything she hoped he wouldn't by changing the topic rather than answering her question. "You'll be perfectly safe here tonight."
He tries to sit up, probably recalling that creating this barrier of protection was the last thing he planned to do before going back to his home, to leave her for a single night to consider her future.
But before he can move in a sitting position, he falls back onto the bed, his arms failing him.
He tries again immediately, with the same effect. He's panting with the effort of it, his eyes half-closed.
No matter how determined he is to be away from her for the course of this single night, there's no way that he's going to achieve that. Either by magical or regular means, he's simply too sleepy to go anywhere.
"You can't go to your home, Rumple," she says quietly, not surprised at all when he slightly rolls away from her in denial.
"You should have some time to rest and think," he repeats, the lowered determination in his voice also informing her that he's in no state to do anything but stay right here for the night.
"You can't leave like this; you can't even sit up. And even if you could, you'd get hurt if you try to go back to your house in this state. You're staying right here."
"Maybe I could just lie down for a while longer. I'm sure I'll feel better after a few minutes."
"We'll see," she smiles, sensing that he'll be long asleep by that time.
She guides him into a more comfortable position, lying him flat on his back. It's probably a signal of his fatigue that he doesn't protest when she carefully positions him on the mattress which she has hardly left in the past few days.
"Thank you," he murmurs drowsily, his eyes closed again. "This is much better."
She spots his cane lying on the floor, where it has fallen just outside the protective barrier when he lost control over the magic he used. She quickly hops off the bed, sticking her arm through the still pleasantly warm shield of shimmering air to retrieve it. She puts the cane right back next to the bed, as close to them as possible.
Although she hopes he won't have to rely on it for the time being, and much as she doesn't want to encourage him to even think of going anywhere but this very bed, she hasn't forgotten about the dangers that can occur. She supposes they might as well keep anything that they could urgently need within reach.
Turning around, she smiles fondly at the sight of him, all but falling asleep even as he struggles to remain awake. She wonders whether it's only the magic that has exhausted him so very much, whether he has had much sleep while she was in the hospital, or even before that.
He might not agree with it, but it's clear to her that there's only one course of action now. After all, the wards that just may as well have killed him don't only protect her as long as he stays within the boundaries as well.
"Relax," she says quietly, getting back onto the bed. Sitting down next to him, she places her hands on his shoulders and encourages him to lie down on his side in a more comfortable sleeping position, facing her. "Just like that."
"So much better," he mumbles, almost asleep already. "All because of you. Thank you, Belle, so much."
She smiles at his words, but she isn't content just yet. He isn't nearly as comfortable as she'd like him to be. The clothes that looked so very pleasant and impressive before seem little more than a nuisance now.
Really, his tie being as tight around his neck as it is, she wonders how he can even properly breathe now that half of his face is pressed against the covers on her bed.
She dreads to even consider the shoes and thick suit jacket he's still wearing.
All these clothes just won't do.