Sleep avoided her, even though Rumpelstiltskin's breathing became shallow and peaceful as soon as his head touched the pillow. His arms were wrapped around hers, as if he tried to ensure she wouldn't leave, but sleep relaxed his body and Belle slid out of bed. She couldn't simply rest, even though she told the man the contrary.
She quietly pulled a robe over her chemise and walked to the library. Belle wished she could begin cataloguing the books – otherwise trying to find something would most likely prove useless. But she couldn't just give up so easily. The girl picked out several volumes, sneezing at the cloud of dust which got stirred up and brought them to the table, stacking the books in an uneven pile. Belle relied on sheer luck, but, alas, she wasn't very successful – the first volume she chose turned out to be written in a language that used pictures instead of letters. With a sigh the girl put the book away and opened the next one. There were history works on magic, incantations for household chores and even a spell that could force you to write poetry, but it brought her no closer to finding the solution. What curse could be vile enough to affect the Dark One, the most powerful sorcerer who had ever lived? Belle couldn't recall ever feeling particularly religious but now she thought she'd be willing to pray to any force if only it would state of mind worried her even more than his weakening body. If he truly was so desperate as to suggest she should kill him to absorb his powers and free him from this agonizing misery, then…
When her fingers brushed a gnarly worn cover of a thick volume she immediately knew the book was on dark magic. Belle hissed as the old - yet sharp - edge of the sheet cut into her finger. The contents were even worse – twisted revolting illustrations of rotting curses and plagues and things the girl didn't even want to give a name to. Swallowing hard, she flipped through the pages, but it was about how to cast nasty curses instead of a way to getting rid of one. Frustrated, she snapped it shut and quickly put the volume away.
How many books would it take until she found what was required? The thought that Rumpelstiltskin had probably already read every piece he possessed in his library but couldn't find the cure was unsettling. Belle rubbed her eyelids, heavy with sleep. She should return to bed, there were still few hours before dawn. Yes, she'd do just that after she looked through the next book.
Her eyes fluttered open at the feel of her hair being carefully pulled aside and the sharp edge of the book cover digging into her cheek. Perhaps she just imagined it, but Belle thought the skin of her neck held a faint memory of a kiss – but surely no such thing happened. She tried to sit up, yelping in surprise at the pain that shot through her neck, her body protesting against the uncomfortable position she fell asleep in.
"Easy, darling."
Of course he's there, his presence in the room palpable even if Belle can't see him. Cool fingers gently rubbed her sore neck, eliciting a sigh of relief as the tingling in her muscles subsided. Rumpelstiltskin carefully kneaded the tension away, the silk cuff of his shirt tickling her skin as his fingers rubbed and stroked, nails occasionally grazing her neck. He's there to help and he will always be. She's surprised she hears no creak of a leather coat as his clever hands work her neck and the top of her shoulders. Perhaps it means he's better.
Belle was slightly ashamed for being disheveled like that, her hair probably in a complete mess but the man had seen her in prison, where water hadn't touched her for days, so surely he wouldn't care much about her uncombed hair?
When Belle no longer felt pain trying to turn her head, she caught his palm, cradling it between her hands and brought it forward to plant a soft kiss in the center of it. Her heart swelled with an overwhelming tenderness she couldn't understand. She touched him before, Rumpelstiltskin touched her even more intimately but somehow this moment mattered. His fingers were cold but at least there was no tremor in them. Maybe, if she wished hard enough, she could warm him up with her breath, she could cast away the misfortune with the sheer power of her emotion, even though she was too afraid to admit what exactly she felt for the man.
Belle evaluated the pros and cons of saying it. But what could she tell him? She was uncertain if she loved him, this almost-broken man who could be so tender but only yesterday frightened her to death. Who could touch her so lightly in the morning but suggest she kills him at nightfall? So she thought better of it, stroking the soft inside of his hand, running the pads of her fingers on the flat surface where a man would have had lines – marks of destiny, promising him health and love and many years to look forward to – but the sorcerer had only blank skin that blurred into the ribbed scales that covered most of his body. She pressed her lips to the rib of his hand just to feel the textured edge. Rumpelstiltskin froze, like her touch was offensive, making a quiet strained noise that could be taken as protest and encouragement as her lips slowly – as if he was a spooked animal - caressed his scaled flesh.
"Thank you," Belle said when the necessity of the massage melted into the selfish enjoyment of being touched. Rumpelstiltskin's left hand rubbed the protruding knob of her vertebra in slow deliberate circles several times before he stopped to pull away and she reluctantly let go of his hand. "Did you rest well?"
"I… Yes. Belle?" The girl tried to turn around to look at him, but he stood too close to the chair and all she could see of Rumpelstiltskin was his rich-blue shirt. "You… you want to go home, don't you?"
She furrowed her brows in confusion. That was a strange question, spoken in a way that indicated he wanted to ask something entirely different but didn't work up the nerve to do it.
"Well, yes, I suppose, I wouldn't mind it, but…" her voice trailed off but he seemed to have heard the answer he desired.
"Great! You'll leave today. Go and get dressed, I'll arrange the rest. The carriage will be waiting for you as soon as you are ready."
"Wait, what? No!" Belle spun around to look up at him. What was he saying? She couldn't go now, not when he needed her most. "Why are you sending me away?"
"I'm not," he explained to her patiently, but it wasn't the truth. Rumpelstiltskin leaned against the table, crossing his arms in front on him. His pose was meant to be relaxed and airy but his fingers dug in his upper arm with more force than necessary.
"I'm simply giving you an opportunity. Don't you want to see your papa? Your friends? Surely they'll have the some kind of celebration upon your arrival. There'll be music and dancers and all kinds of food."
His voice was cheerful and even though the idea did hold a certain appeal, it didn't feel right. He looked tired, the shadows under his eyes and the lines in the corner of his mouth deepened, as if carved overnight with a sharp knife by an unskilled carpenter. The sun coming through the stained glass of the library made his skin glitter and he looked old and out of place, almost lost. The screaming bright colour of his shirt mocked the silver-grey hue of his skin. The man tried to smile, the corners of his mouth twisting up but the smile could as well belong to that of a puppet, who pretended to bow and dance at his master's will.
"But… what about you?" she asked, confused. Why here, why now? He barely allowed her to go outside a month ago and now he suggested she visit her family. Or was it just to be a change of place, to go away altogether from the depressing quietness of the castle?
The silence and the way he avoided her eyes were eloquent enough. He wasn't planning to come with her. Coward. Panic and bitter disappointment rose in her chest. Did he truly believe her to be so shallow? She made no promises of forever to him but to take this excuse and flee because he considered himself some kind of a burden? Her breathing was too loud for her own ears and Belle clenched her fists, the nails digging into her palms, hoping that the sharp pang of pain would help her temper this anger.
"So you've simply decided what would be better for me..."
"Belle, I'm going this only..."
"…to get out of your hair!" She interrupted the man and continued speaking, raising her voice and almost shouting. "You… you discard me because you feel it's right?"
"It's not like I'm enjoying this too, you know!" Strangely enough there was no anger or irritation in Rumpelstiltskin's voice though he spoke with force, trying to make a point. "Isn't it what you wanted? Freedom?"
"What kind of twisted notion is that?"
His silence was eloquent enough. So he thought she was his captive of a sort, staying in the castle because of duty or boredom or with a selfish motive? They had discussed it before but his insecurities still composed a barrier between them, a seemingly impregnable wall Belle tried so hard to get through but which grew thicker each time the girl believed it would crack.
"Oh no, you are not doing it, Rumpelstiltskin. Don't you play the noble man and try to dispose of me merely because you think it'd be best for me. Nobody decides for me!" She was not a thing and he certainly had no right to command her life. She was an independent person, perfectly capable of her making own choices without anybody's guidance. One moment he thought it would be best for her to become the new Dark One and today he thought she should leave.
"Belle, you don't understand," the man pleaded but she interrupted him angrily.
"Then explain it to me!"
"You must leave. It won't be pretty, you saw it yourself. Yesterday… I don't know what's happening, I've lost all control and I don't want you in the middle of it!"
His words cooled her down. He was lost indeed and he needed her patience and her ability to hope, not her accusations or rage.
"I am not leaving."
"Then I will." Her heart raced, its thuds pounding in her ears and she wished he never said it. His jaw was set and his lips squeezed into a thin line. She didn't fancy his tone and how he put distance between them. Like nothing she could say mattered, like he had already decided everything. She wanted to shake him. To kiss him and wipe that sorrow from his eyes – because as long as she could draw breath, there was hope. For both of them.
The pause stretched and Belle humourlessly thought she might need to slap him to his senses again. The air was still and they both remained where they were, her fingers locked into her lap, holding onto each other. Belle would much rather they never started talking. She didn't know what was happening to her, the emotions swirling inside of her, changing from tenderness to anger to worry and from to annoyance back to calculating calm again.
"And where do you intend to go?"
"Away," he muttered and her heart leaped. Was he truly doomed? Did he believe that by sparing her the trouble he would save her from further pain?
"Don't be ridiculous," she huffed. Why were they even having that conversation? "It's your home. Our home. And no one is leaving."
Rumpelstiltskin shook his head, his eyes closed and his face was pained. She wanted to reach for him, to hold him, to let him know that whatever it was, they'd go through it together but her hunch prompted whatever reassurance she could offer would be futile. The girl did move closer, stopping a whisper away before the desire to lean onto him could overpower her.
"Belle," his whisper was hollow and bitter. "Will you… Could you ever forgive me?"
"For what?"
Rumpelstiltskin opened his eyes at her genuine bewilderment. Belle looked up and exhaled sharply, biting the inside of her cheek not to make a sound. Up close there was no mistake about it. It wasn't just a trick of light - instead of the usual murky green, his irises were steel-grey, drained of colour and almost lifeless.
"For what I did to you," the sorcerer was serious and she shivered under the intensity of his stare. He licked his lips nervously. "I could fix it, you know. Make… amends. Send you home, with everyone's memories wiped clean, where no one would ever suspect…"
"What are you saying?" His hurried words made no sense. What was he going to fix?
"Just imagine being careless again, no thoughts burdening you." And then it dawned on her. Rumpelstiltskin wanted to erase her memory and send her back home as if she had never met him.
"You won't do this!" She cried, staggering away and sticking her arms in front of her protectively, as if they could shield her upon that forced magical oblivion. "You will not mess with my memories!"
"Belle, dear, it'll be for the best," he tried to reason with her but stopped when she gave him a firm push. "I cannot spin the clock back, but at least I can do so much."
"No," she shrieked, the panic flooding her. That was just sick. "How could you ever come up with an idea like that?"
He remained perfectly calm, his grey eyes immensely sad.
"The harm may not be undone, but…"
"What harm are you talking about? Rumpelstiltskin, please! I'm tired of the riddles!"
"I've ruined your life, Belle. Don't you see? I could put you back and there'll be no regrets."
"If there is one regret I have, it's about you being so stubborn," Belle stepped forward, jabbing a finger into his chest. "You are the most insufferable, unbearable and impossible man I've ever heard of!" Belle raised her chin up, her head titled back to look him square in the eye. Rumpelstiltskin heaved, his chest raising and following rapidly and she wondered if his dismissal only appeared to be said at ease. Did he still believe she stayed because of some hidden motive? Why wouldn't he accept that she wanted him, all of him, the dark part as well as the human? Tell him, her mind prompted, tell him what you feel.
"I can promise it won't be simple," she went on when her bravery failed her. Simple words were somehow scratching her throat. He'd laugh at her feelings, or not believe her and it would hurt her more than anything. "And I'll give you more than one occasion to complain. But I swear to be there every moment for you, good and bad and you'd have to drag me out of the castle yourself, yet I'd still return to haunt you." He actually smirked at that and Belle felt relieved. "I'm not turning my back on you."
"I haven't messed up your life… too badly, have I?" Why was he so timid? She sensed he tried to be strong, but all she saw was a fragile shell of a man. Rumpelstiltskin gave up, entrusting himself to whatever future destiny was prepared for him. He had no right to sound so vulnerable, he should not look so vulnerable, he's the Dark One and she feels like crying but she shouldn't, because she must be strong and brave - even if it's the last thing she feels like doing.
The girl sighed and tried to concentrate on the question. She'd been imprisoned, rescued, kidnapped and freed over a course of several months. But she also had never felt so alive, cherished and needed. She wished things were different. She wished nothing was.
"You made me happy," she confessed, her cheek coming to rest upon the slick fabric of his shirt. "You make me happy. And please, let's never return to this conversation again. Stop trying to tell me what's best. I have everything I want and need." Because it all came down to what her heart wanted and what her rational side denies.
Rumpelstiltskin's arms delicately circled her slim back. He put his chin on crown of her head, her hair moving under his breath. She could smell the bitter herbs on his skin and if she moved her face just a little, she could kiss the hollow at the base of his throat.
He didn't believe her words, of course, taking them for a token of devotion you give but do not mean. It wouldn't be Rumpelstiltskin if he accepted her and yet not push her away either. Everything would be alright. Belle only needed time to convince herself that her heart was true. If only they had time.
"It gets boring after a while, you know," Rumpelstiltskin drawled thoughtfully. "What does?" Belle raised her head and the man looked down, meeting her eyes with calm. "Living," he said simply. "People behave the same way, make the same mistakes, and history repeats itself. You've seen and done nearly everything imaginable. You come to realize that immortality is dull and pointless. Unless..."
"Unless you have a goal," the girl finished the sentence for him. "Yes. Something worth living for," he agreed somberly. "Something or... someone." "And... uh... do you think you have found that someone?" "No, I don't think I have. I know for certain."
Belle could feel the colour drain from her face. Did he truly mean that?.. Say it now, her mind nearly screamed. This is the moment. Do the brave thing and tell him it is mutual. To her shame, her throat was dry and her tongue felt like some tricky charm got it glued to the roof of her mouth. "I..." she began, her voice too high-pitched, provoking a small smirk from Rumpelstiltskin. Belle fidgeted but cleared her throat (which didn't help to get rid off the lump in it - her heart felt swollen and it probably took a bigger part of her chest than was designed by nature), and tried again, taking a deep breath.
"I mean..."
Her almost-confession was cut short by the insistent, warm pressure of his lips. She was a bit vexed at the interruption but at the same time relieved that he postponed her own acknowledgement, letting her form an accurate sentence in her head. Not that the kiss facilitated the mental preparation of the speech she was gathering the courage to make; in fact, the thoughts successfully scattered away as Belle tiptoed and tilted her head to the side to avoid bumping their noses together. The girl steadied herself by sneaking her arms around his neck, her fingers languidly stroking the smooth silk of his shirt. Rumpelstiltskin suddenly jerked her closer, his arms wrapping around her back and making her all too-aware of how thin her night gown was. He pulled away for a second and Belle opened her eyes in surprise. Was something wrong? His eyes were closed, the pointy ends of his dark lashes threw shadows across his protruding cheekbones. Rumpelstiltskin frowned and she leaned into another kiss, silencing him because whatever he was going to say would probably break this moment.
Her tongue boldly curled around his, teasingly stroking and earning her an appreciative low groan from the man. Belle's fingers slid under the collar of his shirt, scratching along his neck and down his spine. Rumpelstiltskin pressed his wiry body into hers even further, trying to melt them into one being, to the point where his sharp angles poked into her soft flesh uncomfortably. His mouth claimed her mercilessly, the kiss turning into long thorough licks and mild bites as Rumpelstiltskin's hands fisted in the fabric of her gown, both of them frustrated at the faint barrier. If somebody told her half a year ago that she would be excited, standing almost naked in the library in the embrace of a scaled sorcerer, whose long black nails dug into the skin of her lower back and who made most feral, possessive grunts as he sucked on her bottom lip and drew inappropriate unladylike moans from her, Belle would call that person insane, at best. Yet now she found herself responding to the kiss with no less passion, her own matching nibbles and bites sending shivers of excitement down her spine.
Rumpelstiltskin did seem content with kisses only, although she would be happy to take the activity someplace else - the bed or at least the softer bench in the library. However, she had to say something before they got too carried away. Reluctantly, Belle gently pushed herself away from the man. "Wait, I should say that I..."
"You, darling?" Interrupting her seemed to become his new favourite thing and Rumpelstiltskin cocked his head, mischief dancing in his eyes. He looked amused for no reason, reminding her - despite the added lines on his face and the silver in his hair - of the giddy dealmaker who was about to play a trick on her part. "My, my, I'd say we have a little misunderstanding here!"
Belle did little else but gape at him. What the?.. She must have been quite a sight with her mouth ajar and her hair messed up, for the man didn't have the decency to hold back a single snigger. "You didn't mean me as... as that someone?" She suggested awkwardly. Belle hated to ask but she had to know. The moment stretched and her pulse quickened, oh gods so she had only imagined this. She wasn't going to cry if he confirmed her dreadful suspicion, she was not going to cry, she wasn't... "Of course not, you silly girl," He pressed his hand to his chest with the most undignified and hurt look while Belle was surprised he didn't hear her own heart shatter at those words. "I was talking about Prince Charming, of course."
Belle blinked. Rumpelstiltskin kept staring at her gravely. She blinked again. And again. And then she snorted. Covering her mouth did little to contain her giggles and Belle laughed in relief till her stomach hurt. His jest wasn't that funny, considering she believed it true only a moment ago and that it prevented her from spilling her feelings for him. But it was the first time she remembered herself laughing in weeks and it seemed unstoppable.
"Well that... uh... was to be expected," she finally choked it out and Rumpelstiltskin gave her a crooked smile, wiping the tears that gathered at the corners of her eyes with his thumbs. "The signs were there all along, but I just turned a blind eye on them, eh?"
"Rumpelstiltskin? If you say you've found what makes you want to keep living, does it mean that?.." "It means that destiny loves the irony of it." Her shoulders drooped and he gently cupped her face, making her raise her watery eyes to meet his gaze. "Belle, I've seen my future and there's nothing there except for blank darkness. But it doesn't have to be the same way for you. Are you sure you don't want me to amend your memory and send you home?"
She slowly shook her head and he sighed. He intertwined his fingers with hers and kissed her small knuckles briefly before leading her out of the library.
"Alright then. Come, I'll prepare the morning tea. Or perhaps, you're frisky enough to try the new bitter brew from overseas called coffee?"