A/N Thank you all so so SO much for kind words and interest in this story. I wish i had enough words to express how much it means to me!

Rumpelstiltskin paced around his cell that night, giddy and restless. Never did he feel as much as a caged animal. When being led away, Belle turned back to look at him and Rumpelstiltskin felt an invisible hand squeezing his heart. Her face was pale and her large turquoise eyes were wide and silently pleading for help.

He shouldn't care about what happened to her. He'd known her for just few days; she was no one to him. Perhaps Charming or Snow decided to let her go and he was just making a fool of himself. He felt furious and worried and he couldn't quite wrap his mind around it - all of those emotions just overwhelmed him.

Finally he sat down and waited, only his fingers drumming on his hips gave away his anxiety. His eyes were fixed on the entrance to the dungeon to immediately register anyone who might approach.

Rumpelstiltskin spent hours without moving. He could be patient when required but this uncertainty got under his skin. At last he could distinguish a dark silhouette at the beginning of the passageway. He was both relieved that the guard wasn't alone and terrified to see that he was carrying the girl unconscious on his shoulder, her limp body swinging from side to side slightly in time with the guard's steps.

Rumpelstiltskin felt like unleashing all of his pent up emotion on the bearded man. He felt the rage boil in his blood and it took every bit of his willpower not to launch himself onto the guard and feel his neck snap under the sorcerer's fingers. Rumpelstiltskin kept his face neutral but his eyes were pinned to the man. If stares could kill, that one would at least cripple the guy.

"I thought I was done with the wench for good but you brought her back", Rumpelstiltskin almost hissed.

The man dropped Belle down on the floor unceremoniously and locked her cell. He turned around without as much as giving Rumpelstiltskin a glance and walked away, whistling some merry tune.

The girl was a mess. Her leather jerkin was gone, and the white shirt she had underneath was stained with dried-up blood and it stuck to her back. Rumpelstiltskin guessed the girl was whipped, for the shirt also had long tears here and there. Her wrists looked raw and chafed, she must have been restrained and fought it.

He didn't think Charming would ever order anything like that done to Belle, besides he doubted there was any need to get the information out of her by torture. So, it was most likely the guards' initiative. For a second a terrible idea crossed his mind and he groaned. What if whipping wasn't all they did to Belle, what if they went further and also… but apart from wounds on her back, a cut on her face and bite marks on her lips, it didn't look like there was any more damage done. Her breeches were done up and laced and Rumpelstiltskin calmed down a bit.

Belle was lying on her belly, her face turned towards him. Strangely enough, he didn't see any marks tears would have left. There were smears of dust on her cheeks but they'd been there couple days ago as well. Rumpelstiltskin sighed heavily, feeling a rush of tenderness. Poor Belle tried to be brave. She bit down on her lips until she drew blood but she didn't cry.

She stirred on the floor, giving out a little moan and Rumpelstiltskin saw more blood soaking her shirt. He felt helpless. He drew his knees up to his chest and rested his interwoven fingers under his chin. She would be alright. Belle was young and strong, not to mention quite stubborn. She would get well and scowl at him for his remarks or give him the silent treatment. She would heal, she had to.

Belle turned onto her back during the night and cried out with pain when her wounds made contact with the rough floor. Her skin broke into goose bumps and she turned onto her side quickly, still unconscious. Rumpelstiltskin thought her not waking up was a good sign, sleep was the best medicine.

However, she didn't wake up the next day either. She tossed and turned from her sides onto her stomach, giving out small pitiful whimpers that pierced his heart like sharp thin needles.

Rumpelstiltskin told himself for the hundredth time to be reasonable and patient. Her body was mending itself, he just had to wait and stop panicking; she was going to be alright. But as he noticed small beads of sweat form on her forehead and chest, he knew that she wouldn't be. She was burning up with fever. He could call for help, but would anyone come? If they didn't care to feed her, would they spare any medicine and nurse her?

He stood up and paced around his cell. Why did he even care? She was not important to him. She would grow old and die and he would go on, as always. Rumpelstiltskin had seen so many people of different generations born and die and none of their destinies affected him in any way. He never felt pity for anyone. But this strange girl had achieved the impossible in just few days - he couldn't get her off his mind, it pained him to see her like that, he wanted her back the way she was, to talk to her, to touch her, to see her beautiful eyes again.

What was wrong with him? Frustrated, he hit the stone wall hard with his fist repeatedly, drawing blood by scraping the skin off his knuckles until his hand felt numb. He wriggled his fingers and scowled as the pain rushed to his fingertips, but he needed that pain, he wanted the distraction.

Rumpelstiltskin knew what he had to do, what he could do, but he hesitated. The instincts of the Dark One screamed in protest. What if it was some trick? Now that he thought of it, it seemed too simple - she was too friendly, too eager to talk even though she knew who he was. She could have been sent by the guards or Charming, as a part of The Plan - to study him, to gain his trust and to learn the monster's weaknesses. Belle seemed so innocent, but was she really?

Even if she wasn't associated with anyone, it still meant danger to him. If anyone learnt that he cared about her, that she somehow softened him, he could be manipulated. They would use Belle against him.

Rumpelstiltskin gritted his teeth. Belle still had the fever but she no longer made any sounds. Her breathing was shallow and ragged, and she flipped onto her back no longer noticing any discomfort. She looked very pale and there were dark hollows under her eyes. Rumpelstiltskin knew she wouldn't last through that night.

To hell with everything, he thought as he made his decision. He couldn't afford to lose her.

Reaching out for her hand through the bars, Rumpelstiltskin cupped it between his palms. She felt very hot and dry to touch, her skin so delicate he saw the pattern of blue veins under her creamy white skin. Her wrist was so small he could fully encircle it with his thumb and index finger. Her thin fingers with the nearly trimmed half-moons of her nails quivered slightly under his touch.

Rumpelstiltskin raised her hand to his face and pressed a soft kiss to her palm, carefully avoiding the chafed skin of her wrist. He released his magic, reaching for the girl and waiting for the magic to cure her. He could see the change immediately - Belle sighed and her breaths became deeper, her skin no longer broken and her body cooling down. Rumpelstiltskin let the magic clean up her body and wounds, and, satisfied, willed the power back into him.

He sat there for a few moments and gently let go of the girl's hand. She whimpered at the loss and moved until her fingers squeezed her palm tight again. Rumpelstiltskin rolled his eyes. If it calmed her, he had to go with it. After all, there was no one to see him sitting at Belle's side and holding her hand as if he were some sappy, hopeless romantic male-nurse and he was determined to murder anyone who would on sight.

He watched the girl sleep for a couple of hours before relief washed over him. He was content. He'd done many things wrong but healing her was not one of them. There would be a price to pay for it later of course, but at the moment he did not care what that price would be.

His eyelids felt heavy and he dozed off, still not letting go of her hand. For the first time in many years, Rumpelstiltskin slept without dreams.