A/N: Thank you all so much for your continued support and feedback! We hope you enjoy this chapter as much as we enjoyed creating it.

Disclaimer: We do not own Once Upon a Time or Peter Pan. May credit be given where credit is due.

~Chapter XXXVIII~

Rumplestiltskin fretfully smoothed his hands down the embroidered vest and pale beige shirt he donned, feeling terribly inept and underdressed for the occasion without the three-piece tailored suits he had grown accustomed to wearing everyday in Storybrooke, regardless of whether he had a special engagement to attend.

A special engagement... The thought simultaneously sent his mind whirling and his heart racing, though his nerves were more in response to the possibility of rejection than the actual question itself. He was reminded of how he had felt when presenting Belle with the rose-that-had-previously-been-her-betrothed, how he had summoned all his strength not to convey his fear that she would refuse even that small gesture. But she had accepted it, with a sweet smile and a coy little curtsy that had made his stomach flip.

Rumplestiltskin felt the corners of his mouth curve upward at the memory, and he could practically hear the soft chuckle she had released upon seeing him bow grandly in response.

It was only after a few moments that Rumplestiltskin realized he could indeed hear someone chuckling, but it was not his Belle; no, it was his teenage son, sitting crossed legged on a nearby log.

"You look nice, Papa," the boy said good-naturedly, grinning up at him. "Happier than I've seen you in a long time," he added more quietly, though the smile remained in his chestnut eyes as he regarded his father.

"Thank you, son," Rumplestiltskin responded, before glancing up at the light coming from the cabin in which he knew Belle was preparing, "I am."

His thoughts traveled back to the nearby glade that his son and the older Lost Boys had helped him clear; it was slightly larger than the clearing in which they stood presently, and was surrounded by towering willows whose hanging vines sighed pleasantly in the breeze. Baelfire had sworn on his honor that by nightfall it would be one of the most beautiful sights on the island, perfect for what they had planned. He had refused, with a rather puckish grin, to reveal any more details, but Rumplestiltskin had agreed to trust him regardless. He only hoped that whatever lay in store would be special for Belle...and perhaps add this night to her happiest memories, as it undoubtedly would his.

Or so he hoped, Rumplestiltskin thought with a nervous gulp, unable to stave off another slight twinge of apprehension.

"Don't be nervous," Baelfire advised confidently as though reading Rumplestiltskin's thoughts, rising to his feet, "It's going to be perfect."

Rumplestiltskin chuckled lightly at his son's words, or at least attempted to, the sound somewhat smothered by the fact that his heart was currently in his throat. He inhaled a steadying breath through his nose, exhaling through his mouth as he glanced in the direction of the glade they had prepared for the evening. Aibreann had assured him that she would guide Belle to it, allowing him to be there waiting when she arrived, as well as affording him a few more priceless minutes to mentally prepare. Belle, of course, would be well aware that the evening was to be theirs, but hopefully oblivious to the objective behind it.

Nodding resolutely to himself, Rumplestiltskin took a step in the reserved glade's direction, before freezing in place, his features twisting into a slightly panicked expression. He could not determine what had compelled him to stop, but something in the back of his mind told him there was a reason...

"Papa?" Rumplestiltskin heard Baelfire ask behind him, and he wondered if he had perhaps imagined the barely contained mirth laced in the boy's tone.

"Yes, Bae?" He responded, still frozen in place with his brow furrowed in thought. Baelfire walked around to face him, the corners of his lips twitching in an apparent fight against a smile.

"Are you forgetting something?" The boy asked in a voice that trembled ever so slightly with restrained laughter.

Something seemed to click in place at his son's words, but Rumplestiltskin still could not define it, his thoughts feeling rather muddled with his nerves and excitement. "I...think so," he murmured, his inflection framing the response rather more like a question than an answer.

"Well, can you remember what you're forgetting?" Baelfire asked lightly, tilting his head to the side as his lips twitched again.

"Erm..." Rumplestiltskin searched desperately through his thoughts again, before coming up once more empty-handed. He looked down at his clothing, around at the clearing, and then back at his son, still without an answer.

Now apparently unable to stifle it, the boy smiled broadly, reaching into a small satchel tucked beneath his palm frond belt. He withdrew his fist a moment later, holding it up to Rumplestiltskin before slowly uncurling his fingers, revealing a tiny object glittering softly in his palm.

The ring.

"Ah, yes." It was beautiful in its simplicity: a polished pearl from the merpeople's supply fastened to a braided length of the last remaining thread from his son's bracelet. When titled in the light just right, one could glimpse the faintest glimmer of purple in its bends. It had been Bae's idea to use the silver thread, and once the mermaids had discovered the ulterior motive the evening, they had all but shouted their desire to assist where needed.

Feeling as though he could throttle himself, Rumplestiltskin plucked the silver band from his son's hand and tucked it safely beneath his vest. Baelfire grinned at him cheekily, before clapping a hand on his shoulder in a show of encouragement that made Rumplestiltskin scowl playfully at him.

Absent-mindedly patting the fabric which now concealed the ring from view, Rumplestiltskin turned about and headed toward the path which would lead him to the reserved clearing. Before he could pass the tree line and enter the forest, however, he paused, glancing once more at the lit cabin.

His heart somersaulted in his chest as he thought of the beautiful woman inside, and the question he was preparing to ask her. A gentle smile playing about his lips, Rumplestiltskin resumed his trek into Neverland's forest.

Belle worried her bottom lip between her teeth, her stomach fluttering eagerly as she helped the young Indian girl—Tiger Lily, she recalled Baelfire calling her, after the flower she kept tucked behind her right ear—braid half of her brown tresses. The sun had long begun its descent toward the horizon, now burning red through the tree line, and the excitement of spending the evening with her true love grew with every passing second.

When Aibreann had lured her away from the fascinating merpeople with a promise of relaxing dip in a hot spring, Belle had suspected nothing particularly curious about the gesture. Their stay in Neverland had been riddled with stress, and the opportunity to unwind some of the tension proved too tempting to resist. But when she had returned to the Drey nearly—she was slightly embarrassed to admit—four hours later, having dozed off surrounded by the soothing water and steam, only to find the Lost Boys already packed for the next day's journey, a dinner of herbal soup slowly brewing over the fire, and her true love nowhere in sight, she had grown suspicious.

Aibreann had insisted that he and Baelfire simply wished to spend more time with the merpeople, and for another hour Belle had believed her.

Until the young Indian girl and several older members of the tribe had appeared with several bundles under their arms, a fishbone comb, and a vat of what smelled like rose water. Then, Belle had demanded answers.

"A quiet, relaxing evening with Rumplestiltskin," Aibreann had finally revealed, insisting that with the Lost Boys already prepared, there was little else to do but enjoy their last night in Neverland. With no reason to turn down such an appealing offer, Belle had led them to the main cabin to begin preparing.

Tiger Lily and the fairies had helped her dress perhaps a quarter of an hour ago, surprising her with a gown that appeared to be crafted from the splendor of Neverland itself. But even now, with her gaze trained on the gauzy fabric covering her legs, Belle's thoughts remained solely on Rumplestiltskin: the fathomless pools of his eyes, the mystery behind his smiles, the way his lips felt against hers...

A soft chuckle echoing from above pulled Belle from her thoughts, and she glanced up to find Aibreann gazing down at her, a rather knowing look in her eyes and a teasing smirk on her face. Belle felt her cheeks flush lightly as she smiled sheepishly back at her, realizing that her expression must have given away her romantic daydreaming.

"Looking forward to your time together, hm?" Aibreann teased lightly, descending to hover in front of Belle, who felt her cheeks grow warmer as she nodded.

"I've missed him," Belle breathed, finishing her braid with a sigh and stretching out her arms, which still felt loose and limber from her long soak earlier in a hot spring Aibreann had graciously shown her. Whistling quietly to herself, Tiger Lily carefully pulled the braids back, twisting them together and leaving the rest of Belle's curls to tumble elegantly over her shoulders. When the young native finished her task, she excitedly squeezed Belle's shoulders, grinning and cooing rather like a dove when the woman thanked her in response.

She nimbly leapt onto the windowsill then, waving enthusiastically and placing something down on its smooth surface, before climbing out onto a low-hanging branch and disappearing into the night.

Brow furrowed in curiosity, Belle stretched her neck to better glimpse whatever the young Indian had left. A small branch bearing several white lily of the valley blossoms rested on the windowsill, and Belle watched as Aibreann fluttered over to them, gathering several in her tiny arms. She turned with a gentle smile on her lips, soaring back over to where Belle sat. With diligent care, the fairy tucked the flowers in the creases of the braids, nodding in satisfaction at their delicate beauty and the subtle fragrance they emitted.

"Aibreann," Belle began, her voice breathy with the amount of gratitude she felt toward her tiny friend, "Why are you doing all this? What could I have possibly done to—"

"Deserve it?" Aibreann interjected with a knowing grin, alighting gracefully on the palm Belle offered her.

Belle nodded, a corner of her mouth lifting slightly. "It's just...so much," She continued rather inarticulately, her gaze traveling over the fine material of her gown, the remaining lilies of the valley lying on the floor, the groomed curls resting on her own shoulders. It was nigh overwhelming, the care and consideration shown to this evening, to her, and Belle could already feel tears beginning to burn behind her eyes.

"Oh, Belle," Aibreann murmured tenderly, gazing into the woman's face, "You and Rumplestiltskin have suffered and sacrificed so much for Neverland and its inhabitants. Giving you one memorable evening together is the least we can do."

Something flashed in Aibreann's eyes then, something light and mysterious, like a secret. But it vanished almost the moment Belle glimpsed it, and she was left merely to wonder in her thoughts as Aibreann leapt into the air once more.

"The sun's setting," Aibreann said softly, the low volume of her voice unable to conceal her excitement as her wings lifted her once more into the air, "Are you ready?"

Inhaling a steadying breath, Belle gingerly pulled herself to her feet, mindful of the hem of her dress. That curious look in Aibreann's eyes had revived the butterflies fluttering in her stomach, and she could not stifle the nervous chuckle that escaped her. The emerald fairy offered her a reassuring smile, before leading the way to the vine staircase.

Together they crossed the threshold of the cabin, pausing to watch the last scarlet rays of the sun disappear beneath the horizon. Belle glanced in the direction of the Lost Boys' beds suspended above, smiling softly at the flashes of orange and violet light, and the responding children's laughter. It seemed Buidhe and Flannach had adopted the role of the Lost Boys' entertainers for the evening.

Belle and Aibreann descended the steps leading to the clearing in front of the Drey, the former's heart sprinting wildly in her chest. When they passed the last stair, Belle looked up, her lips stretching into a broad smile as she looked for Rumplestiltskin.

But he was nowhere to be found.

Forehead creased slightly in confusion, Belle looked up questioningly at Aibreann. "Where is he?"

"Definitely not here," a voice suddenly answered from one of the nearby logs, causing Belle to start visibly. She turned in the direction of the voice, a breathy chuckle escaping her when her eyes settled on Baelfire's form, seated comfortably on the log. Dressed in his tunic of autumn leaves, the boy blended so well with the backdrop of trees Belle had not noticed him before.

"You're meeting him someplace much more special," he said mysteriously, grinning broadly up at her.

"Oh, so you're in on this as well?" Belle asked, laughing when Baelfire merely folded his hands in his lap and stared up at the sky, the picture of innocence.

"Aibreann's going to lead you there," he stated a moment later, nodding at the fairy in question, "I promised the boys I'd tell them a story tonight, about those first months in Neverland before any of them showed up."

Something both wistful and sad flickered across his features then, and Belle could not stay the hand that reached out to brush back the curls from his forehead. His grin returned then, and he leapt to his feet before her.

With a grand sweep of his hand, he bowed in her direction, saying in a playfully ostentatious voice, "You look lovely, my lady."

Releasing a peal of laughter, Belle curtsied daintily in response. "Why, thank you, good sir."

The boy's gaze grew less playful then as he straightened, though the happiness remained. "Goodnight, Belle."

"Goodnight, Bae," she echoed softly, before adding with a smile, "Try not to stay up too late."

"You too," the boy answered cheekily, chuckling when she lightly swatted him on the shoulder, before turning and heading toward the stairs.

Belle watched Baelfire retreat to the Drey, shaking her head slightly as she marveled at how much she had grown to love him as her own son in such a short time. Her musings did not last, however, as Aibreann soon gently tapped her on the shoulder, beckoning toward the tree line.

Belle followed the green pixie silently, the fluttering in her stomach that had ebbed during her encounter with Baelfire now returning in full intensity. Back in their land, she and Rumplestiltskin had never enjoyed a festive evening together. Of course, there had been many comfortable nights that entailed her reading peacefully by the fire while he spun straw into gold, but nothing involving particular preparation. It excited her, knowing that this evening was both for them and about them.

So lost in her thoughts, Belle barely registered that she and Aibreann now traveled along a cleared path in the forest, illuminated by the soft cerulean glow of toadstools growing along the edges. Curiously, the air around them was silent, empty of the melodies which usually accompanied nightfall in Neverland. It was not a sorrowful silence, however; it felt rather more like the eager hush that filled an arena in anticipation of a grand performance.

A break in the trees suddenly appeared ahead, dimly lit by the twilight sky, and Aibreann's response only confirmed what Belle had suspected.

"We're nearly there," the fairy said quietly, and Belle did not need to look to know that she was smiling. It was sheer strength of will and appreciation for the Indians' delicate craftsmanship that prevented Belle from hiking up the hem of her skirt and racing toward the glade. She would be lying, however, if she claimed her steps did not at least quicken slightly.

Aibreann reached the break in the trees a few seconds before Belle did, hovering patiently in place while she waited. Belle smiled when she reached her, before directing her gaze to the glade that lay before them. The sight which greeted her stole her breath in a low, amazed sighed.

Before her stretched a clearing far larger than the one in front of the Drey, and framed by towering willow trees whose branches swayed hypnotically in the breeze. A blanket of short grass covered the ground, occasionally punctured by low-growing shrubs with oily leaves that shone delicately in the moonlight. The tree canopy broke over the glade, offering a clear view of the stars peppering the night sky and winking gaily down at them.

But perhaps most mesmerizing of all was the man standing its center, his hands folded at his lower back and a tender smile playing about his lips. His eyes met hers and once more she found herself falling into those fathomless depths.

Belle's heart skipped in her chest at the mere sight of him, each thump, she imagined, sounding out the syllables of his name: Rumplestiltskin.

Her eyes traveled over him, taking in his slim frame and the fine clothes draped over it. A beige poet's shirt covered his torso, opened slightly at the neck and held in place by a gold sash tied about his waist. His chest and shoulders bore a black vest, and judging by its sleekness and the way it shone lightly, Belle guessed it was crafted from dyed deer hide, much like her previous dress had been. The Indians had embroidered what looked to be pure sunshine into its surface. It was delicate and glimmered subtly in much the same way his former discolored skin had in the dim candlelight at the Dark Castle. Just as she had then, Belle stared now, transfixed.

"My, he looks rather dashing, doesn't he?" Aibreann asked appreciatively, coming to hover beside Belle's shoulder.

"Yes," Belle murmured, her eyes now locking onto Rumplestiltskin's, "He always has..." Even when she first met him, dressed in dragon scales and harsh black feathers as he had been, she had been unable to tear her gaze away.

Entranced by his very visage, Belle felt her feet slowly pull herself toward him. She barely registered Aibreann chuckling softly behind her as she stepped into the clearing. Not a moment after her foot landed on the soft carpet of grass, a low rushing sound suddenly filled the air.

Hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of tiny fireflies soared up from the ground and from between the hanging willow vines, casting a golden haze over the clearing. Gasping in wonder, Belle watched them tumble and dance about the glade, and when her eyes returned to Rumplestiltskin's, she could not stifle the beaming smile that stretched her lips.

Rumplestiltskin felt as though he could leap into the air and fly when he saw Belle's astonished expression at the flight of the fireflies. Several had been hovering about when he initially arrived at the clearing, and he had taken care not to move a muscle until she arrived so that he would not startle them into flight himself.

Grinning so broadly his cheeks ached, Rumplestiltskin outstretched a hand in her direction and gently beckoned for her to approach. He cast a grateful glance in Aibreann's direction, before focusing the entirety of his attention on the stunning figure slowly heading his way.

When he had informed Aibreann of his plans for the evening and asked her to provide new clothes for Belle, he had not expected a gown so mystifying and grand as the one his love currently adorned. Though, perhaps he should have known that, once the fairy learned of the intent behind the evening, she would want to ensure that the dress was just as memorable.

The fabric was light and gauzy like muslin, and draped over Belle's form in a tender caress, brushing against her ankles as she walked. Thin strips of it crossed over her chest and hooked around her neck, leaving the pearly curves of her shoulders bare. Try as he might, Rumplestiltskin could not distinguish the gown's colors; it seemed to reflect everything surrounding it: the silver of the moonlight, the rich green of the hanging vines, the deep indigo of the evening sky, as though it were a very extension of Neverland itself. Strands of something resembling spider's silk and drops of morning dew glittered along the edges of the dress's fitted bodice and hem, and threaded into her long tresses were tiny white lilies of the valley.

Everything about Belle, from the thick chestnut curls cascading down her back to the dainty bare feet currently leading her to him, from her sharp and brilliant mind to her kind and loving heart, was breathtakingly beautiful.

Rumplestiltskin held out his hands when she reached him, his smile widening when she clasped them in her own and beamed up at him.

"Hi," Rumplestiltskin breathed, and he could have smacked himself then for choosing such a mundane salutation over all the other options he had been rehearsing relentlessly.

But when Belle leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, echoing his greeting with a breathy laugh, he forgot all his insecurity. Grinning and feeling as though his stomach were preparing for a career in the circus, Rumplestiltskin led her to a small blanket he had spread out for them. It was simple and patched in many places, but Belle smiled as though he had offered her a seat on a flying Agraban carpet instead.

Belle knelt and tucked her feet beneath her, and Rumplestiltskin followed suit, unable to help sitting close enough so that their knees graze each other. Together they peered out at the wide clearing, watching as the willows swayed and the fireflies somersaulted in the breeze.

"It's breathtaking," Belle murmured, reaching over to gently squeeze Rumplestiltskin's hand. Rumplestiltskin gently trailed his fingertips along the length of her jaw, encouraging her to face him.

"You're breathtaking," he responded softly, letting the pad of his finger trace just beneath Belle's bottom lip. Her cheeks dimpled with her smile as she bashfully lowered her eyes, lacing her fingers through the hand she held.

"I can't imagine how you managed to plan all this," Belle breathed, shaking her head disbelievingly and peering up at him through her long lashes, "It's wonderful."

Rumplestiltskin chuckled lightly, glancing out at the beautiful glade before returning his gaze to Belle's. "I had a lot of help. My son and Aibreann orchestrated most of this, with the Indians' assistance," he answered, gesturing to his clothing and their surroundings.

"He's a special boy," Belle praised, entwining her other hand with Rumplestiltskin's, "And Aibreann..."

"This isn't the first time she has helped me," Rumplestiltskin mused quietly, running the pads of his thumbs over Belle's knuckles. She gazed up at him questioningly, her head tilting slightly to the side.

"I got lost in the woods as a young boy once," he explained, the corner of his mouth twitching at the concern that immediately flashed across Belle's features, "I was frightened, thought I was going to be eaten by wolves or die of the cold itself. Then Aibreann came. She comforted me, and guided me home."

Wonder and understanding entered Belle's gaze then, and with a soft smile she said, "Aibreann told me she helped a boy find his family long ago. I had no idea she meant you."

Rumplestiltskin returned her smile, raising one of their entwined pairs of hands to run his knuckles against her cheek. "She's done so much for me. This entire island has..."

The memories of Neverland assisting him and Belle when they were fleeing the pirates, running to find his son, trying to save him, flooded Rumplestiltskin's thoughts, and he felt a surge of gratitude for the land, regardless of how much suffering they all had endured here.

"I think I'm going to miss it," Belle admitted quietly, staring up at the sky and the now hundreds of stars twinkling in it.

"Me too," Rumplestiltskin murmured, and it was true; everything brimmed with such life and character here, he doubted there existed another world quite like it. "But I look forward to starting a new life with Bae," he continued, gazing down at their laced fingers, "And you."

Belle turned to face him again, her turquoise eyes filled with what Rumplestiltskin knew—and would never doubt again—was love.

"As do I," she whispered, her lips curving into a sweet smile.

Rumplestiltskin's thoughts traveled to the ring safely concealed beneath his vest, and his heart pounded furiously against his ribs as he gazed down at her. He removed one of his hands from hers, hoping it did not tremble as he made to reach for the small silver band.

Before he could even delve beneath the flap of his vest, however, Belle rose to her feet, walking further into the clearing. She cast a playful grin at him over her shoulder, and Rumplestiltskin could not afford to regret her poor timing to explore as his stomach flipped wildly. He watched as she turned toward the clearing again, her head tilting back to take in the golden lights of the fireflies still hovering above.

As he stared, the first distinguishable chords of Neverland's music rose into the air. Drops of water from the leaves plopped onto the tops of the glowing mushrooms, creating a sound not so unlike the gentle stroking of piano keys. Belle seemed to notice this too, as she soon began swaying softly on her feet, the hem of her dress glittering and brushing over the grass.

An idea dawning in his mind and a grin curving his lips, Rumplestiltskin carefully pulled himself to his feet and approached her. Gently so as not to startle her, he placed his hands on Belle's waist, swaying in time with her as the music gradually increased in volume before leaning forward.

"My beauty," he whispered in her ear, sliding a hand down her arm to clasp her right hand, "May I have this dance?"

She turned around in his arms, and the happiness in her eyes might have outshone the fireflies themselves. "You may," she answered breathily, placing her left hand along his shoulder.

A wind blew across the cattails growing near the tree line, plucking them like the strings of a guitar as Rumplestiltskin raised their entwined hands and stepped closer. Chest feeling as though it may burst with the love he felt for the woman in his arms, he allowed himself one slow, steadying breath, before launching them both into a waltz that kept time to the beating of their hearts

Around the glade they danced, their feet as light as their spirits. The music swelled around them, the sounds of Neverland creating a symphony unlike anything they had ever heard. Blades of grass rubbed together like a bow against the strings of a thousand violins, their notes soaring high into the night air. Rumplestiltskin twirled Belle in his arms, joining in her sweet laughter as his eyes met hers. There was no need to count his steps or listen diligently for changes in the melody; they waltzed with more ease than they breathed, the music matching their movements with natural precision.

It was perfection and bliss, holding her, dipping her, sharing in her joy as they created what might be their happiest memory together. Their steps rose and fell with the music and their chests heaved with breathless laughter as they danced around and around the clearing, happy because they were here and whole and together. Every note seemed to reach inside and caress their very souls, lifting them higher and higher until they felt they could dance amongst the stars.

Neverland's music crescendoed as they rounded another bend, and Rumplestiltskin could not help but spin them in tandem until they were both clutching each other and laughing like young children. The pearly moonlight glanced off of their skin and their surroundings, coating the entire glade in a soft, silver sheen.

The vibrant symphony gradually calmed, each sound tapering off until only the soft notes of the strumming cattails surrounded them. Likewise, Belle and Rumplestiltskin's waltz slowed, until they stood pressed together, simply swaying and turning leisurely on the spot. Rumplestiltskin felt Belle rest her chin on his shoulder, her arms sliding around his neck. Closing his eyes at her touch and the fragrance of her hair, he snaked his arms about her waist, letting the fingers of one hand softly trace her lower back.

Unable to resist, he pressed a soft kiss to the curve of her pale shoulder, letting his lips linger perhaps a second longer than necessary. He heard Belle sigh contentedly, the tips of her fingers playing with the ends of his hair.

"I love you, Rum," she whispered, and it was those words, the conviction behind them and the way they felt breathed against his neck, that gave Rumplestiltskin the courage he needed.

"You're the light that guides me home, Belle. I would have never found my son without you," he began, pausing as she pressed a brief kiss to the nape of his neck.

"You've always seen the goodness in me, even when I couldn't," he continued, gently removing her arms from around his neck and folding her hands in his own. "You saw the man behind the scales and claws, the spinner behind the beast."

Belle frowned slightly at his use of the word "beast," but remained silent, her blue eyes gazing into his own. Rumplestiltskin inhaled shakily, feeling such a rush of emotion he was surprised that he was still able to speak.

"I love you," he breathed, for that was all his constricting throat would allow, "I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how much."

He released his hold on her right hand, reaching into his vest for the silver band tucked beneath it. When he withdrew it, he watched Belle's eyes widen and then immediately fill with tears as she gasped softly. Feeling his own eyes sting, he sank to one knee, his gaze never leaving hers.

"I will never deserve your hand, but I ask for it all the same," he murmured, tracing her knuckles with his lips for a moment before raising his head once more, "Will you be my wife, Belle?"

A long, terrifyingly silent moment passed between them, and Rumplestiltskin desperately searched Belle's eyes for even a trace of an answer. When she merely raised her trembling right hand to cover her lips, he felt as though the earth were about to open up and swallow him whole.

"I-I mean," he stumbled, his heart beating a nigh painful tattoo against his ribs, "If it is too soon—"

"Yes."

"—w-we can wait. You don't have to give me an answer right away—"

"Rumplestiltskin," Belle laughed breathily, pressing her right palm to his cheek, "Yes."

Rumplestiltskin froze, his mouth hanging open as he choked back whatever stuttering pleas he had been about to utter. He stared up at her incredulously, asking in a voice hardly louder than a whisper, "Did you just say…yes?"

Tears once again pooled in Belle's eyes as her quivering lips curved into a smile. She nodded frantically, too overwhelmed to produce anything other than a sound caught between a laugh and a sob.

He barely managed to slide the delicate pearl ring onto her left finger before she had thrown herself into his arms, both laughing and weeping into his neck. Beyond the ability of speech, Rumplestiltskin pulled his head back and captured her lips with his own, feeling one of her tears splash onto his cheek as she returned his kiss passionately.

Unable to contain his joy, Rumplestiltskin broke away from their kiss, clutching her close as he stood and twirled her around. Grasping his shoulders as she was lifted from the ground, Belle tilted her head back with a peal of laughter.

His heart feeling lighter than it had in centuries, Rumplestiltskin carefully returned Belle's feet to the ground. As their lips blissfully met once more, only one thought echoed in Rumplestiltskin's mind.

Belle was to be his wife. He was to be her husband. With the promise of a future with his true love and his long lost son by his side, Rumplestiltskin finally allowed himself to believe in something he always desired, but never imagined he could achieve:

His own happy ending.

A/N: The song that provided the inspiration for Belle and Rumple's dance is Ben Jelen's "Come On" (instrumental only). We highly recommend listening to it on Youtube: /watch?v=p0zBhtRMWMU.

And, as always, we appreciate any feedback you can offer on the chapter/story! :) Only one chapter remains, dearies!