Belle couldn't breathe. She woke up, gasping for air, her hand flying to her throat to ensure there was nothing around her neck that could restrain the passage of the oxygen to her lungs. Ever so slowly, after a series of short hungry inhales the nightmare began releasing its sickening clutch on her. She dreamt she was being held under water, which was no surprise, really, after several days of feeling like she was drowning.
Belle thought that after his admittance of her, well, being special and her almost-confession of the feelings she held for the man, it'd be easier – that they'd work together, searching for clues to break the curse or whatever force possessed Rumpelstiltskin; that they could still occasionally laugh and enjoy each other's company – but it was only wishful thinking. The man's rapid changes of mood were unpredictable and he chose to retreat to the shadows, leaving her confused. On some days he was bitter, giving up and staring off into space blankly. On others he had sudden bursts of energy, flipping through books, mixing concoctions and madly scribbling away on rolls of parchment. Frankly, Belle did not favour either of the moods. She wished… she just wished things would be different, without the threat of unspoken inevitable disaster burdening their existence.
She fell asleep in the library again. No wonder – her bed was cold and unwelcoming, Rumpelstiltskin had refused to come close to her, suddenly certain this disease was contagious. Belle felt that he didn't want to see him like that – worn, thinned down, afraid – she never was good at hiding her emotions. He most likely lurked in the darkness of his tower, moody and restless. He must be still ashamed of that incident they had – she prepared him a nutrition potion and it was excellently brewed because the colour matched the description in the book perfectly and she was so proud of herself. She was proud up to the moment when after an hour of talking Rumpelstiltskin into drinking it he softened and did as she bid only to successfully throw the concoction up all over his shoes and the floor. It wasn't his fault, really, but he took it as a severe blow to his ego.
The changes concerned not only Rumpelstiltskin – the Castle was different too. No more self-igniting candles, tables full of food or doors that could open themselves. The mansion grew quieter, collecting dust and cobwebs, the diminishing magic of its owner no longer keeping it in order. Just as well.
Belle hoped she could stay brave and cheerful, but the worry gnawed at her. She could turn to some other magician, or charlatan or healer or even to the Evil Queen herself but the girl wasn't stupid. No one would help the Dark One; the world would not miss him, even if his mischief and terror were more of an imposed aura than actual deeds.
Belle suppressed a yawn, covering her mouth with her hand more due to a habit than actually aware of being un-ladylike. It was probably too early for being up, besides, she was of little use, her eyes were raw and tired and… her heart dropped before she even realized what was wrong. Bewildered, she darted to the torch on the wall, not trusting her fingers, because it couldn't just be what it appeared it was. Belle gasped. But the soft light confirmed what her other senses told her – the sapphire ring that Rumpelstiltskin gave her, the beautiful ring that she tweaked around her finger and grunted in frustration when she couldn't take it off – was now gone. Which meant only one thing.
"My gods, Rumpelstiltskin," she whispered and the dry cracking voice that she heard could not belong to her. She dropped to her knees, reaching under the table to retrieve the ring that reflected the light innocently. If there was no magic in it remaining…
With her hands cold and her feet numb, Belle hurried out of the library. Oh please, let it be not too late. She broke into a run once outside the library, not bothering to take the torch with her and negotiating the dark corridor by memory. She paused as she reached the stairs, cold sweat running down her spine as the loud pounding of blood in her ears distracted her from the stillness and deafening silence of the Castle. Belle paused on top of the stairs, hesitant. She didn't know what hour it was and she hadn't got the faintest idea where Rumpelstiltskin could be. Perhaps he was in his tower? Or had he decided to go to his room and rest for once? She chewed her bottom lip, unconsciously biting down on it hard. She could search both places, of course, but they were on the opposite sides of the castle and her hunch told her every second was valuable, even though there was very little she could do, now that…
A muffled thud of something being dropped down, coming from downstairs interfered with her train of thought and she shuddered at the noise that startled her. The girl flew down the staircase two steps at a time, her nightgown clenched in her fists as she pulled the hem up not to trip over the ridiculously long thing. Belle reached the doors of the grand room, throwing her arms out to push them open, the hard wood scratching her hands but the minor pain did little to distract her. As the two halves of the doors opened with a creak the girl froze in the doorway. She bit the inside of her cheek until she drew blood – the thick taste of it providing enough reassurance to convince Belle that she, unfortunately, was not asleep. Even though what she was seeing could very well have emerged from one of her nightmares.
The cruel moon light, white and heartless, invaded the room. Its unflattering direct rays illuminated everything with unnatural precision – for it certainly seemed too harsh and bright in the chamber – the smooth surface of the table and the thick carpet, the worn arch of the spinning wheel and… and a small curled figure next to the overturned sitting bench. Belle heard a small choking noise and it took her a moment to realize that it was her own strained sob. She wanted to scream but only a pathetic broken whimper left her lips. She pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to contain the eerie, inhuman keens and bit on her fingers to distract herself, but it didn't help. The figure at the end of the room did not move. Oh no, no, no, dear gods, it didn't mean that…
Belle commanded her body to move, pushing herself forward but her legs seemed too wobbly to make a proper step. A sudden anger flooded her, she hated feeling so helpless and not being able to make a few steady steps. Yes, concentrate on anger, a tiny inner voice whispered, do not let your mind dwell on what you're seeing. It did seem to help as the rage broke the immobility. Belle reeled but made a step forward, and then another one until she hastened and closed the distance between the doors and the wheel. She tripped over a book that lay carelessly on the floor in her rush, falling onto her knees but paying no mind to the sharp pain that shot to her joints. She crawled the last meter that separated her and the man and reached out for him. The girl suddenly stopped before her hands could touch the stiff folds on the dragon hide coat. Her stomach roiled with fear that paralyzed her senses, she was too frightened to touch him and confirm that…
"Rumpelstiltskin," she whispered, even though his name was drowned in desperate, wrecked sobs. "Oh please don't…"
And then the tears came, rushing and unwanted, blurring Belle's vision. She blinked and tried to wipe them away but the stubborn fluid came back. The tears were hot and painful, blinding her. It seemed they could burn marks onto her cheeks and Belle would be grateful for it. The pain was maddening instead of numbing, she wished the physical hurt could take away some of it because surely, her heart would not be able to bear it, it would burst and end this torture, but it didn't. Her stupid heart kept beating, prolonging the agony, deaf to her unspoken pleas of mercy and desired cessation.
Her mind kept whispering it wasn't true, because it couldn't be. Such a thing could never happen to her, and since it couldn't be real, there were no more reservations about touching him. If only the tears would stop and the annoying, choking background sobs would end.
Tentatively, Belle turned the man onto his back; the sound that his leather clothes made twisting her features in a grimace. In the surreal light his face was calm and his body limp. Too limp and pliable to mistake it for sleep as surely he'd wake up to the touch and her cries. The tears still came, trickling down her neck and getting absorbed into the cotton of her nightgown, making the fabric stick to her skin wetly, but Belle barely noticed it. She shifted and leaned against the warm wood of the spinning wheel, gently pulling Rumpelstiltskin's head onto her lap.
"Please don't leave me," she sobbed, stroking his hair, combing it with her fingers and disentangling the soft grey strands from the darker curls. "Wake up, please, oh please wake up!"
The silence wrapped its thick cloak around them and Rumpelstiltskin did not stir in her embrace. His head lolled to the side when she let go of it briefly and she bit on her tongue hard not to scream at that. Belle shut her eyes tightly, the wet cool lashes unpleasantly smacking her cheeks and opened them again with much effort, her face contorting with pain as her cleared eyes fixed on him. Belle's fingers shook as she wiped her own glistening tears away from Rumpelstiltskin's face only to witness the replacing droplets land of his features.
"You cannot do this to us," Belle went on, swaying from side to the side a little as her hands cradled his face. "You cannot!"
She bent down, her lips inches away from his as if the proximity could make him hear her better and elicit some kind of – any – reaction from him.
"You're all I have. I cannot go on without you. I do not know how to, I do not want to!" She babbled, sensing the cold overwhelming nothing, a welcomed emptiness settle in the pit of her stomach.
The tears stained his skin, making it glitter vividly but the miracle did not happen – his eyes didn't flutter open. Belle knew her rambling was pointless, that it wasn't a silly game he was playing but her mind refused to believe it was the end. Her breath ghosted over his lips but for the first time in forever he didn't scowl or sigh or lean into the touch. Her lips met no responding puff of his breath.
"You would never dare to leave without learning something important." There was no need for bravery now, no secrets remaining and her whispering turned urgent and feverish.
"I'll make you a deal, Rumpelstiltskin," despite herself Belle giggled. Perhaps she was losing her sanity, but what the hell did she need it for now?
"You like deals, don't you? Well, how about you wake up and I tell you something?" The man remained motionless but it did not discourage Belle one bit. "Oh, you don't think I've got anything worthy to offer, hmm? Fine. I'll tell you anyways."
She bent even lower, closing her eyes that began to hurt and feel dry despite the continuing stream of tears.
"I love you, Rumpelstiltskin. I loved you since the moment I returned to find you at this very wheel, looking lost and miserable. Don't you think this deserves waking up? I've loved you even after we'd fight and I've been falling for you even more with each passing moment. I will always love you, no matter what happens."
Belle pressed her lips to his cooling ones, willing and praying with every fiber of her being for… for something.
She knew he loved her just as much but alas, in real life true love's kisses held no power over life and death.
"It's okay, love," she whimpered, biting down on her lip. "We'll manage. I know we will."
Belle thought she saw the tears soak into his tainted skin, giving off a soft glow but she couldn't trust her shifting, blurry vision. And then she heard something that made her shiver.
She strained her burning eyes, but nothing in Rumpelstiltskin's calm features confirmed what she heard. Sudden tranquility took the place of hysterical crying and in the newfound quietness Belle clearly heard a…
Thud.
Oh but her mind was playing cruel tricks on her.
Carefully lowering his head back onto the carpet, Belle draped her body over his, hiding her face in the crook of his neck even though the sharp lapel of his cloak cut into her cheek.
Her imagination was cruel but what harm would come from succumbing into the fantasy and believing it for a while?
"I'll just rest next to you, love," she said in a confounding whisper. "It's okay, it all will be alright eventually."
She sighed and traced her fingers along his forehead and down the crooked line of his nose.
When Belle's fingers brushed across his thin lips, she jerked her hand away with a shriek, her heart beating against her ribcage, running miles an hour.
She could be going insane but not even her imagination was that faulty.
Her wet fingertips encountered something that didn't belong there but what she was desperate for.
A weak fanning rustle of a breath.