"And now…" Belle said placing his hand gently over her heart, "…now I must pay the price." And she disappeared leaving him cradling the beautiful lily.

Rumplestiltskin jerked himself awake from the dream. Or was it a vision? He sat behind his spinning wheel down in the basement of his home and looked around. Had he fallen asleep? He concluded that he must have nodded off from not having slept in over twenty-four hours. Belle's residual voice lingered in his mind from the vision. Why was he dreaming about Belle? Something is going to happen to her. He stood up immediately and in a blink of an eye disappeared from his private work room. He reappeared magically just outside their bedroom door. His heart pounded as he reached the door knob. He needed to see with his eyes that she was safe. Rumple opened the door to discover Belle resting peacefully in their bed. Seeing that she was exactly how he had left her, he exhaled in relief.

He was about to head downstairs to continue spinning when he noticed the packed bags on the floor; their luggage for their intended honeymoon that Belle had packed. He looked up to make sure she wasn't looking and waved his hands over the bags. The luggage disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke. Disappear.

He thought about his dream and how Belle disappeared in his hands. Worry painted his face as he thought about the idea of losing Belle. It pained him. It was the same pain he tried so hard to suppress when seeing his son's body. The painful memory of witnessing his death flooded his mind. He needed to see him again. Even if it was just a tombstone, he needed to stare at it like he needed to see Belle, or stare into his spinning wheel to forget. Only, he didn't want to forget, he wanted to remember. He wanted to remember the good memories. He wasn't sure what good would come from going to his son's grave, but he felt the need to go see it; to grieve. That's what it was, to grieve. Rumplestiltskin's shock was what kept him from grieving properly.

He searched for centuries on ways to get to this land; The Land Without Magic. He felt now as he did before, still searching for his son. But searching for what? Answers? He knew his son was dead, but admitting it would only break down the dam he had built for himself; to protect himself in front of his enemies. Ever since Zelena, he defaulted to pretending like he was still searching for him, as if he was just going to go explore another avenue of magic like he did centuries before. It is what he had always done and it now felt like what he was always programmed to do. And that mission was what he told himself to cope, both as a grieving father and for self-preservation. His denial may have been a good coping mechanism then to save face in front of Zelena, but what now? Who did he feel afraid to hide from?

He had made many enemies in his past. And as much as he wanted to run away from it, the past had a funny way of catching up with him; haunting him. He felt stuck in this depressive cycle of fear. Someone or something from his past is constantly going after him. He felt the need to be strong; to cope, survive and remain constantly focused, but he knew he couldn't be strong forever. He felt the need to grieve; to accept his past mistakes, to accept the passing of his son and as a result become vulnerable to his own feelings. His own feelings were his weakness and to accept and grieve meant being weak. He knew grieving was inevitable, he just didn't know which would benefit him the most at the moment. What was he risking? What would be the price if he does or doesn't grieve?

Belle stirred in her bed. She opened her eyes and noticed Rumple standing vigilantly in the doorway. "Rumple? What's wrong?" she asked sitting up in bed.

"I… I'm sorry Belle, I didn't mean to startle you," he said to her while attempting to leave and give her peace.

"No! Please stay." As much as the fake dagger still loomed in her mind, it didn't explain this particular pain Rumple was expressing on his face. She still loved him so she was concerned about his welfare. She was curious and wanted to know why he was standing there to begin with. "Is everything alright? Come talk to me."

He moved hesitantly, at first, but then he walked slowly over to her side of the bed. He sat down beside her and continued staring down on the floor, deep in thought. She moved her legs within the comforter and drew her knees up to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her legs and waited patiently for him to explain whatever it was on his mind.

He struggled to form words. So he expressed what he could, "I… we… need to stop by the cemetery." Belle nodded finally understanding what troubled him; Baelfire. She moved in her bed and scooted closer to him giving him a supportive hug. She leaned her head on his shoulder. He reached up with one arm and placed it gently on the arm that dangled across his chest. He leaned his head against hers and in a deep somber voice said, "I'd prefer to not go alone. I need you."

"Ok. We'll go," she softly acknowledged. He nodded silently trying to be strong for her and for himself. A moment of silence passed as he reflected. She did her best to silently support him and began rubbing his back soothingly.

"I went ahead and took the liberty of moving our luggage into the car. I figured we'd leave as soon as you were ready to. There's no rush."

"No… I… uh," she sat up and looked at the side of his face that refused to look her in the eye, "…I can go. I'm not a hundred percent, but I'm rested enough for this. Here, let me get dressed and we'll go."

"You sure?"

"This is important… for you and for me."

… …

Belle and Rumple got out of the car and they walked hand-in-hand through the cemetery gate's threshold. Belle led the way toward Neal's grave and although this would be her second time visiting the grave, this was his first. He walked heavy footed, dragging just slightly behind Belle. He was scared. Scared of visiting his worst fear. Every parent's worst fear. The lie he had been telling himself since Zelena, the illusion he had built for himself to protect his sanity, was crumbling down. He was afraid to let his guard down, of being vulnerable. He never intentionally made himself vulnerable. For centuries he created grandiose ways to prevent this very thing from happening, to preserve himself. He felt himself slowly coming undone and he was fighting against it. Panic crossed his face. "Belle…" he said stopping in his tracks.

Belle, realizing he had stopped walking, felt a slight pull from him. She turned around and looked up into face. She saw genuine fear. His face had grown pale, and she could feel the sweat within his palms as his hand shook in hers. He looked almost sickly, his eyes bulging from their sockets as he looked nervously around. In all of her years of knowing him, she had never seen this emotion come from him. It was unusual and a bit unnerving. Yes, she saw fear in his eyes before; like when he feared for her safety when she tried to spring him from his cage from Zelena. And yes, she had seen him in despair; like when he woke her up from her cursed Lacey memories when he thought they were going to die. But this…

He was afraid of how he might react to seeing his son's grave now that he no longer had any reason to hide from his grief anymore. She saw this. It was moments like this, albeit extremely depressing, that gave evidence to his humanity. She saw his fear, feeling what all parents would dread at times like this. Perhaps he was never in a position to safely express or exercise his ability to feel human? Maybe this is why he was struggling so much now?

He felt he was exposing the cowardly man he had told her about and fought so hard to hide from her. He didn't feel safe to express his grief or even feel these same coward-like feelings. But he knew he needed to be brave. And he needed her strength to be brave.

"I… I'm afr…" he tried to say, barely finishing his sentence. It was obvious in his face. He didn't have to explain a single thing to her. So she said the only thing she could think of, possibly the only words that he needed to hear at this very moment, "It's alright. I'll be right here every step of the way."

As simple as those words were, she tried to give him every reason to move forward and not be afraid. Rumple nodded and his eyes became watery. He tried to swallow but his throat was so dry the mere attempt was challenging. He took a shallow breath and willed his numb body forward. They kept walking. Apparently her simple words were enough.

They rounded a tombstone and walked around a tree to discover a boy hovering by Neal's grave. Not a boy, an adolescent. The adolescent turned to look at the visitors, "Mr. Gold?"

"Henry?" Mr. Gold replied with a stuffed up nose. All of them were surprised to see each other, of all places.

"Do your moms know you're out here alone?" asked Belle.

"Yes," he said glumly, turning his head back to look at his father's tombstone. "Since there isn't a threat in town and I'm now too old for a babysitter, Mom—Regina, thought it ok to give me some time alone with my father, so she dropped me off. She's gone off to connect with Emma about Elsa and Anna and said she'd come back for me in half an hour. Besides," he said pulling out his cell phone, "they'd call me if they needed me."

"Well, now that we're here," Mr. Gold said indicating himself and Belle, "we'd be happy to give you a lift home."

"Mr. Gold—"

"Henry," Mr. Gold said cutting him off. He held up his hand to interrupt him, "you can call me Grandpa." His consent to being called by a different name other than Gold or Rumplestiltskin came as a genuine surprise to both Belle and Henry. Henry was his last living blood relative after all.

"I believe," Mr. Gold continued, "we've gone through enough as a family that we don't have to address each other so formally anymore. I mean, if that is still what you desire. I know I was a bit hostile before… when you and I first discovered our familial connection. But I still meant what I said… You can call me whatever you like."

Henry nodded sharing the tender moment over Neal's grave. "Ok. Thank you," Henry said looking at his grandfather earnestly, "Grandpa," giving him a half-smile.

All of them resumed their silent reflection, looking at Neal's tombstone. After a few moments, it was Henry who broke the silence, "I only got to know him for a little bit. I wish I knew more."

"I can help you with that," Mr. Gold answered. Henry and Belle turned their gaze to Gold.

"I knew him when I held him in my arms," Gold could recall the memories vividly as they flashed in his mind, "when he first learned to stand, to walk… to run. I taught him how to…" Mr. Gold struggled as tears came down his face, "…how to talk, to spin at the wheel. I saw him play and grow and constantly fight me on what was right and good with the world… but I was always too blind to see what he saw in life. He was a good man and I see that same man in your eyes."

Henry turned his head slightly and blushed. Henry looked back up at his grandfather with tears as his bottom lip trembled. They shared an unspoken understanding for each other and it was an indescribable love for a good man that laid just six feet below the earth.

So... Rumbelle scenes. Here they are! I'm sorry if you were expecting them to be romantic. :/ That's the Rumbelle relationship for you. Whenever they try to have or do something romantic, some random stupid thing comes in and interrupts it. If it was perfect, it wouldn't be their relationship. It's not that I don't long for their romantic moments. I do! I'm just trying to make it as real and true to their characters as possible. If the moment/situation allows for it, without detracting from the forward momentum of the overall story, then yes it will happen. Sometimes I surprise myself when I catch those moments and I do my best to seize those opportunities. I hope you all understand and still continue reading.

Gold Stars to Montreat11, BreathingintheSun, and Grace5231973 for reviewing! You guys are phenomenal. I love chatting with ya. You guys have a special place in my heart is all I'm saying.