Belle was quite dizzy and her vision swam a little when they reappeared in the hall of the Dark Castle.
"How are you feeling?" Rumpelstiltskin's voice was flat and impersonal all of a sudden, but he looked concerned. "Do you need anything?"
"Some water. Please."
The man nodded and conjured a golden goblet – really, he was most wasteful, a plain cup would do the job the same – filled with clear water and passed it to her. Belle held it with both hands awkwardly, wincing at the dull ache in her joints when she moved her wrists and pressed the rim to her parched lips. She drank eagerly, the water slightly sweet and blissfully cold on her tongue.
"Thank you," she said when Rumpelstiltskin made the goblet vanish as effortlessly as he made it appear. His arms returned to the small of her back and he pushed her forward.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"To make sure you're alright," he replied briefly, although that hardly answered her question. He stopped to give her a quizzical look. "Can you walk? Or should I carry you?"
"No, I can walk," Belle said quickly. She didn't fancy the idea of being thrown over his shoulder and carried around. He was in a strange mood, almost detached compared to how worried he seemed in the forest and she decided it was better not to argue.
Rumpelstiltskin led her to the bathroom on the ground floor. He tapped the edge of the tub casually, making it fill with water before turning to the girl and unbuttoning the neat row of fastenings on the side of her shirt.
"What are you?.."
"Be still," he ordered, slipping the fabric off her shoulders.
His warm fingers travelled along her arms, pressing onto the skin, searching for damage. The man frowned at the caked blood on her wrists, examining the irritated and scratched flesh, but said nothing. He was swift but meticulous, moving behind her to push the hair away and palpating her sides. When he seemed satisfied with the state of her upper body, he pulled her pants and underwear down unceremoniously, helping her step out of the discarded clothing and feeling up her legs just the same way. Belle felt most silly, standing there naked under his attentive glare, but he just make a tsk noise and pushed her hands away when she attempted to cover herself. He didn't seem to even notice or pay much mind to the fact that she was bare; while at times his eyes would darken with arousal when he looked at her, now it seemed that she was nothing more than a curious ingredient he needed to study.
"Rumpelstiltskin, I'm sorry I…" she didn't finish the sentence but he nodded and gestured for her to get in the tub.
Picking up a cloth, he dampened it in the water and lathered it with soap, running it over her shoulder and across her chest.
"Look, there's no need to treat me like an invalid," Belle protested. "I'm perfectly capable of doing that myself," she tried snatching the cloth from his hand but he held onto it.
"Hush," he said sternly and resumed washing her.
She winced as he coaxed her arms into the tub, water stinging on the cuts, but let him carefully clean up the dried blood. He washed her hair, his fingers massaging her scalp as he worked the shampoo into foam. He rinsed and towelled her in the same wordless manner and quickly transferred them both to her room. Belle stumbled and her stomach roiled at the unexpected transportation – gods, they could just come upstairs in the traditional way or he could give her a warning – but he steadied her and reached behind to fetch a white nightgown from under the pillow. Rumpelstiltskin threw it over her head and she wriggled her arms through the sleeves, feeling like she was a child he needed to take care of her.
"Sit, I'll be right back."
Belle sat on the bed. It was high for her and her feet dangled in the air. She shifted on the bed further, raising her legs onto it and tucking them under the rim of her nightshirt to keep them somewhat warm.
Rumpelstiltskin returned carrying two strips of fabric and a small glass jar.
"It will be gone by morning," he said, twisting the lid off it and scooping up some of the thick salve to spread on the inner side of her wrists. The substance was yellow and greasy, smelling sharply of tar, but it would be most selfish of her to complain. His movements were precise and gentle, his fingers gliding over her skin, barely touching it. Whatever this strange mood of his was, it wasn't anger. He seemed to be deep in thought as if his body did the work on its own.
Rumpelstiltskin repeated it on the other wrist, rubbing the ointment in.
"Keep your hands up," he instructed, dabbing the remains of the salve along the bruise on her cheekbone.
He picked up the long shred of fabric he brought and wrapped it around her wrist, hooking it around her thumb and ripping the edge of the cotton to tighten and secure it around her hand before mirroring the same on her right wrist.
"Thank you," Belle said quietly. She knew she should say more, apologize for being so careless, explain that it was just a dumb accident and assure him it'd never happen again. She most certainly never meant for it to happen. She was happy he came to her rescue, of course, but she expected it wasn't as simple as just ordering the sheriff to let her go. Her kidnapper did bring her to see Regina, who sweetly explained that this inconvenience was, in fact, nothing personal, and that she intended to bargain for something Rumpelstiltskin had. Belle wondered what it was; surely it was no small thing if the woman's magic could not craft it. She was both relieved and surprised to discover that he complied with Regina's conditions quickly. Rumpelstiltskin didn't have to do it – he could come up with another plan or offer a deal that would benefit him instead of the woman. Belle felt that she was the distracting factor and if it wasn't for her, he'd never agree to play by the rules. He gave away something important to have her back and all she said was a plain thank you.
Rumpelstiltskin waved her gratitude off but didn't leave the room, looking at her. She felt uneasy but she wanted him to stay; yet did she have the right to ask him for more than he'd already done? She reached for the hairbrush – if she let her hair like that, it'd be a true crow's nest it the morning – but she held it clumsily, the tight bondage around her wrists restricting her movements and the base of the brush slippery against the cotton fabric. He watched her ungraceful attempts of mastering the hold of the thing before picking it up from her hand.
"Let me," he offered and Belle turned around.
His fingers parted a section of hair and he held the lock firmly, brushing it midway from where he grasped it to the ends. Although Belle couldn't see his face, she sensed that he relaxed a bit, as if the air in the room could change depending on his mood. He was still quiet but seemed content as he disentangled her hair, running the brush through it and gradually moving up when the ends were combed. She sighed when he was done and put the brush back onto the bedside table. Rumpelstiltskin gathered her hair and twisted it into a loose braid, making her wonder where he even learned how to do that.
She turned and grasped his hand when he was about to walk away.
"Don't go."
She didn't want to be alone – partially because Belle was afraid to wake up somewhere else, but mostly because being away made her realise she wanted him near. Regina teased her, offering her freedom and protection from the "monster". While it was true that Rumpelstiltskin and she could never grow close if Belle just stayed with her family, it was hard to imagine her life without him now. He gave her a chance to see past his appearance, to discover how devoted and kind he could be, despite his own perception of himself. Belle wished to tell him how she felt, but she knew it wasn't the right time yet.
The bed dipped a little under his weight but Rumpelstiltskin refused to get under the sheets. He spooned behind her, tucking his knees behinds hers and carefully placing his hand on her hip over the covers. Belle reached for his fingers with her left hand, interlacing them and brining their joined hands to her chest, half-hugging his arm.
The slight rise and fall of his chest against her back was calming and she closed her eyes.
"I thought I lost you," his voice was barely audible but her heart throbbed at how tense it sounded.
She squeezed his hand tighter, the simple movement echoing unpleasantly in her wrist.
"You won't lose me, Rumpelstiltskin," she promised and he gave an intermittent sigh. It was not up to her to keep that promise, of course. There could be things neither of them could control yet she felt that if it was in her power, they'd never part.