Italics: Thoughts
Bold Italics: Flash backs
AN: Also I wanted to make sure everyone knows that this an AU version of the time stream of what happened on the show. Everything before Gold beats Maurice is canon, but after Maurice was taken to the hospital and Gold was released from prison it will be my own spin on things. I mean I will stick in a few canon facts that will fit into the plot of the story but it won't be clearly following the canon of season one, so please don't go, "OMG that so didn't happen! Didn't you watch the show?!" lol yes I watched show and I want to put my own spin on how I WANTED Belle and Rumple's story to go after episode twelve.
The howling rain made loud pitter patting noises harshly against the graying tinge of the window panes of the pawnshop.
Lightning streaked across the sky lighting up several beautiful antiquities creating a alluring sort of ambience.
Trapped in restless slumber sat half sprawled across his work bench his tussled light brown graying tresses pressed against the middle of his left arm which was splayed across the table in front of him like a makeshift pillow.
"Rumplestiltskin"
With a jarring harsh intake of breath the wiry sinewy frame of the pawnbroker lurched forward as he snapped back and awoke blearily.
He blinked owlishly at his surroundings; chocolate brown eyes squinted as they desperately tried to adjust to the dim lighting of the poorly lit back room.
Out of pure habit a scowl automatically began to etch it's self into his dry lips pulling them downward showing a bit of teeth while doing so.
Perhaps that was his que not to drink so much scotch after hours.
But what in the bloody hell had that been? He was more than goddamn certain he had heard that name…
Not his idiotic Storybrooke persona the snarky manipulative Mr. Gold , but something else entirely more sinister and meaningful.
It was striking every nerve alit in his brain; sending up red flags of warning in every direction.
This was a name no one had dared uttered in more than twenty eight years.
One he knew for a fact that absolutely not a single resident in the drab and dreary, sad little speck of a town of Storybrooke Maine knew.
Save for Regina, no one knew even anything even remotely useful from before their time on this plain.
All of them were blank slates of muddied down individuals, twisted to the point of near unrecognizable pale comparisons of their past selves; all walking around aimlessly never truly knowing who they are, or what they are missing in their pitiful hollow little lives.
But that voice; that voice had been hauntingly familiar.
But where had he heard it before?
Something suddenly clicked in place within the dusty passageways of his mind, like a phantom key spontaneously unlocking a long forgotten and overdue padlocked doorway buried deep within his memories.
Which lead to an archway of flickering painful snippets of past laughter, images, voices, and the most aggravating amounts of overwhelming guilt he had ever felt in his life.
He had hoped to keep them contained and held at bay with the rest of his regretful cowardice mistakes; forever away from the forefront of his troubled heart and soul.
Chocolate brown eyes then widen franticly looking around as his panicked gaze instantly fell upon a piece of chipped tableware resting barely three inches away on the table before him.
His shoulders sagged with unadulterated relieve.
There was her chipped cup, the very one in which had landed him in jail not even five hours previously.
So much pain and hardship were woven deeply into that damnable cup.
Yet so were the fleeting wispy shrouds of intimate gestures, the warmth of shy smiles and gentle caresses that were not usually thrust upon someone such as he.
He clenched his eyes shut tightly almost to the point of causing pain.
No… but it couldn't possibly be…it wasn't…
But how could he possibly deny it?
When he would not ever be able to, and could never even try to if he wished to forget such a warm melodic voice.
The memory of her voice was like honey a lyrical lilt in which would forever be burned inside of his very being.
His brave, beautiful, selfless, sweet darling Belle…
With shaking slender callused fingers he hesitantly picked up and carefully cradled the cup to his chest.
No, it was just my guilt ridden malicious self pitying conscious playing tricks on me…
He shook his head trying to chase away even entertaining the idea of her being alive.
Pure nonsensical fantasies he had no right dreaming.
There was no magic powerful enough to bring back the dead, not even with the power of true love.
Even if there happened to be a way to accomplish such a feat, the price would be one far too great to pay.
Sighing he ran the rough under side of his thumb repeatedly over the curved sharp juncture of the imperfect hollow edge of the still modestly beautiful tea cup.
With the missing piece was the very essence of his cruel black heart once thawed by the gentle hands of a fair hearted beauty the likes no one has ever seen.
Crackling booms rocked over head, as the icy pinpricking torrent of whiplashing bouts of rain rattled harshly against the dirty grime encrusted window of her cell.
The small brunette beauty curled up tightly into a fetal position, hooking her arms delicately around the very middle of her bent pale legs which were pulled against her frail frame almost protectively.
Tears pearled at the edges of her blue eyes as she dug her finger nails deep into the skin of her legs absently making crescent shaped marks in their wake.
If there was one thing she could remember it was that she positively absolutely HATED thunderstorms; though why she could not tell you for sure.
Lightning flashed creating harsh shapes on the walls.
Swallowing nervously she flinched helplessly when more thunder soon followed close behind in an intricate blaring dance of light and sound.
A soft desperate sob bubbled up from the back of her throat as the brunette clenched her wet eye lashes shut and began closing herself inward in hopes to escape the storm around her.
She tried to grasp at what little good things she could remember from in the fogged and tattered mind of hers to console the panic coiling and hissing deep within her belly.
Shivers wracked her body as she persisted and counted them softly in her head one by one.
Red roses..
The smell of straw..
Endearingly chipped tea cups..
The soft rustle of parchment as she turned the page of one of her favorite story books..
Letting out a shaky sigh she reached down blindly in the dark to pull at the thin grey scratchy hospital blanket further around her.
The salty pathways of two twin trails of tears were slowly drying on her porcelain pale features as the bitter droplets soaked into her matted tangle of auburn brown curls.
"Someone…anyone…please…oh please let someone hear me..?" The beauty whispered forlornly into the darkness as she slipped into the unrelenting void that was dreamless sleep.
As if sarcastically answering her call the hauntingly familiar click of three inch black high heels echoed off the concrete flooring, signifying her most dreaded and only visitor had yet again come to torment her.
Her sapphire orbs flew open with renewed panic, as a lead block of dread fell into the pit of her stomach simultaneously shooting sheets of icy fear throughout her veins.
Heart ricocheting against her ribs a mile a minute the beauty could only sit and wait for her unknown fate.
The cha-chink sound of a key turning the lock of her cell jarred her from her disarrayed and jumbled thoughts.
With a heaving screech of metal hinges, the form of Regina Mills glided elegantly into the room dressed as she was a few hours earlier.
Smoothing down the sides of her suit she smiled that seemingly faux sweet sugar coated smile that sent said prisoner instantly on guard.
The Raven haired woman motioned for the burly greasy orderly to place something down on the bed for Annabelle.
Eying the parcel untrustingly her blue eyes darted suspiciously to her captor.
Snorting softly in impatience Regina sighed almost dramatically as she drummed her pale slender fingers against her knee, "Now Annabelle dear, I've had our friend reevaluate your charts, and we've both come to the same decision that you are well enough for release."
Blinking dumbly Annabelle looked at the raven haired mayor as if she had just spoken in a different language entirely, "W-what…? But….what about…the shots..? And…you…earlier…and…" She trailed off confusedly not knowing how to word her thoughts properly.
Chuckling softly behind her hand condescendingly Regina smiled almost in a maternal way that made Annabelle's insides churn in disgust, "Oh you will still be on medication of course Annabelle; but you are being discharged from the hospital for the time being. In fact you will be staying with me; you see I have been needing a nanny for my dear son Henry. He tends to get into so many unsavory situations lately."
The brunette looked dubious but curiously picked up the parcel that had been left by the orderly for her on the bed.
Unwrapping it quickly and messily with shaky hands she found a modest blue sun dress, the proper undergarments in which she would need, old but fashionable black buckle shoes, and white stockings.
Standing and brushing off her pants free of invisible dust or dirt Regina eyed Annabelle with a satisfied sort of gleam to her obsidian eyes, "Now do get dressed, I'll have the head nurse bring you upstairs when you're done. Hurry along then dear, we're leaving in about five minutes, don't keep me waiting."
And with that the mayor left the cell leaving the door wide open.
Annabelle merely sat clenching the new items to her chest tightly for a moment before she took in a deep shaky breath and proceeded to do as she was told.
This hadn't been the rescue she had been hoping for, but perhaps this was a start.
Who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth?