Part Three

Chapter 31. Broken

Belle entered the bedroom wearily, wanting nothing more than to collapse onto the bed and sleep. All exhaustion seemed to leave her though, when she laid eyes on the expansive room before her. Never had she seen such a grand place, and it took her a moment to grasp the fact that it was hers. Slowly she entered the room, trying to take in everything at once, but finding it difficult. Not only was she overwhelmed, but it was dark, save for the fire that was already warming the room from its hearth.

Did Rumplestiltskin think this helped matters? She agreed to stay with him, but did he honestly think locking them away would solve their problems when they hardly stepped near each other in their tiny, one room shack? It was too much, Belle thought as she moved to sit on the bed, taking a moment to bounce appreciatively on the soft mattress. It was a finer bed than she'd ever seen. It was a room larger than their home. Belle made a face at that thought. Was she supposed to think of this place as her home? It wasn't, it couldn't be. Not without Baelfire there. Nothing was right without him.

Sighing, Belle stood and moved toward the hearth, needing to warm the chill that had settled over her. It was a cold place, she thought idly, this castle. She stayed close to the fire for some time, watching the flames sway and twist pleasantly in the hearth. When she began to grow too warm, she stood and idly ran her fingers over the vanity that rested close by. It was a small table, fitted with what looked like lotions, perfumes, and a lovely hairbrush. The mirror was quite large, and Belle took a moment to look at herself. Being poor, she'd never had the money to buy even a simple hand mirror. This was the first true look at herself, and her nose wrinkled at the sight. Her hair was disheveled, and her eyes looked dark and bloodshot, no doubt from all the crying. She bared her teeth to the mirror, looking at herself as she turned her head and made faces until she grew tired of seeing her weary reflection.

She wandered to the other side of the room, past the large four poster bed that sat in the middle, toward a large wardrobe carved out of dark wood, with elaborate designed etched in. She ran a hand over the door in appreciation of the fine work, then pulled. Her eyes widened as she took in a multitude of dresses, in a variety of colors. She reached out, gently running her fingers over the fabric, jaw dropping as she recognized it as silk. She pushed the gowns aside, looking at all the different ones, feeling guilty as she admired each one. She couldn't wear these, not in good conscious. She kept looking, unable to resist the smile that touched her lips as she saw a dress identical to the one she was currently wearing. It was blue, apparently her husband's favorite color for her, and glaringly simple hanging next to a velvet ensemble of deep purple. She pulled the blue dress out, and held it up to her. It seemed a perfect fit, and she knew better than to be surprised. She placed the dress in the middle of the wardrobe, where she could easily spot it, its bright blue a sticking out compared to all the deep hued gowns that surrounded it.

Examining further, Belle found a dresser with nightgowns, undergarments, and stockings. There were shoes, too, all far too fancy for her liking. Eventually she came across a silver pair that seemed simple enough, and tried them on. Again, they fit, and she hoisted her feet up in the air, admiring the way the silver sparkled in the firelight. She pulled them off and put them back in their place, the same guilt as before washing over her. She didn't deserve this. She didn't want this.

Deciding she'd dwell on everything the next day, after she had a good night's rest, Belle pulled out one of the simple nightgowns and moved back to the vanity, where a bowl and basin sat waiting. She dipped her hand in the water, humming in delight as the warmth hit her fingers. She wouldn't have to warm the water, for which she was grateful, and so she quickly poured some water and stripped, laying her dress over the chair next to her. She grabbed the cloth and washed, instantly feeling better now that she was cleaner.

She dressed, feeling like a child playing dress-up in such a fine nightgown, then braided her hair. With a sigh, she crawled into the bed, noticing for the first time just how large it truly was. Before, when she slept on a palette she never noticed just how small and cozy it had been. As comfortable as this bed was, it was empty and cold. Belle shivered slightly, and pulled the covers to her chin. Part of her wanted to ask Rumplestiltskin to join her, if only to keep her warm, but she pushed that thought aside. She then thought of Bae, and wondered where he was sleeping. If he was sleeping. She felt the tears sting her eyes and sighed. What was Bae doing? Where was he? Was he all right? It grieved her that she did not know. The thought once again snuck in that he might very well be dead, and the tears poured out fast at the thought. She buried her face into the pillow, praying with all her might that her son was safe, wherever he was.

Only when her tears were spent did she roll back onto her side, staring at the dying flames in the hearth. She watched them for a long while, and only when the embers finally withered away into nothing did she fall asleep.

~000~

When Belle awoke the next morning, it was to the same emptiness that had accompanied her to sleep. She dreamt of Bae, both of him being lost to her forever and of him returning. She didn't know which dream disturbed her more, and she decided not to dwell on it. She lay in bed for a long while, knowing that for the first time in her life, she had no chores to attend to. It was strange, having no reason to get out of bed and a small part of her wanted to take advantage of that and simply lie there. The thought was tempting, but she pushed herself up and grabbed her old dress. She couldn't bring herself to indulge in anything, not when her grief was too strong.

She took her time dressing, however, and eventually wandered the path she'd taken the night before to the room she and Rumple had stood. It was a grand room, she thought as she entered. She wanted to inspect it as she had her own room, but Rumplestiltskin's presence at the head of the large dining table kept her rooted at the entryway.

Rumple stood when he noticed Belle, then frowned as he took in her appearance.

"Were none of the dresses to your liking?"

Her eyes shot up to meet his and he stepped back, nervous. They were still on edge with each other, and Belle could feel the anger fester within her as she looked at the man she blamed for losing her son. A small part of her wanted to go to him, beg him to comfort her but she remained where she was, instead choosing to study his own apparel. Up until the night before he only wore his peasants clothing, though magically altered to look like new. He favored a red velvet cloak as well. But now he looked like a spectacle in silk and leather. His pants were dark and form fitting and the shirt was clearly of the finest silk, flowing in dark red waves over him. He wore a vest as well, made of a dark leather similar to his pants. She glanced down, taking in the sight of his boots. They were tall, impractical looking things, with more laces than most of the gowns in her wardrobe possessed. No doubt it took magic to get in and out of the things.

He looked noble, Belle thought. Elegant yet menacing. He looked powerful. He looked like a Dark One should.

She allowed herself a moment to admire the man before her, but no more. There were more important things than what her husband chose to wear.

"They were lovely," she said at length, referring to the dresses, "But I don't feel right in wearing them."

He looked ready to argue, but instead nodded and dropped uneasily back into his seat. Belle approached and sat in the seat to his right, staring at her hands in her lap. A moment later Rumplestiltskin waved his hand and a tea set appeared. Belle blinked up at him and he shrugged, "I thought you might be thirsty."

She nodded wordlessly and prepared herself a cup, debating on adding extra sugar. There would certainly not be a lack of it, but she pushed the thought aside once more. Just because she suddenly had an abundance didn't give her the right to waste it. She imagined Bae leaping at the chance to add more sugar into his tea and the guilt and grief hit her anew. She scowled and pushed her teacup away in disgust. Rumple looked at her curiously, and Belle felt compelled to speak her mind.

"We can't do this."

"Do what?" Rumple asked hesitantly.

"This!" Belle said, gesturing around the room. "How can you bring me here and present me with gowns and the largest castle I've ever seen? How can you offer me tea and wear those ridiculous clothes when we've just lost our son? Don't you care-"

He was out of his seat and in her face within a moment. Her chin was gripped between his fingers, and she flinched as he snarled, "Of course I care." She tried to turn her head away, but he kept his grip on, her fingers digging into her chin not painfully, but unpleasant enough to fuel her anger.

"Don't you dare accuse me of not caring," he hissed, then loosened his grip on her as if he only just realized what he'd done. He stumbled away from her, hands held out apologetically and Belle rubbed the spot with her own fingers. It didn't hurt; not physically. He seemed ashamed, and spoke again softly, like he was the shy spinner from before. "The curse will work," he said gently, "But I don't know how to do it. I have to study," he said, and his voice began to rise once more, the tone becoming higher and higher, until the glimpse of the man she once knew vanished under the madness of the magical being before her. "I have to think, research. Plan! There's so much to do. And I need space, and quiet. I need a place where you're safe and self-sufficient."

He gestured around him, "Anything you want, just ask and it's yours!" he declared, "This place can be as comfortable as you like, and all I ask in return is that you not question my motives at every damned turn!"

"What has happened to you," Belle asked as she stared hard at Rumplestiltskin, "Who are you?"

"The Dark One, dearie!" He said, gesturing to himself elaborately, "Surely you figured that out by now!"

"You're not the man I married," she said flatly, and if it was supposed to bring him back from the madness that seemed to consume it, it utterly failed. Instead he laughed, the sound harsh and menacing.

"Oh, that poor bastard is gone," he said shrilly, "Vanished through a portal with his son! Now all you have is me." He stepped closer to her and said, teeth bared, "I'm a monster, dearie, and you'd best get used to it."

She stared at him, hurt and confused. He laughed darkly and gestured at her with a hand. "See? You agree."

"I said nothing," Belle responded. Rumple shrugged.

"Your silence says it all. But it matters not. You've been against me from the beginning. You can't stand what I've become, Belle. I tried to do everything to protect you and our son, but instead, you accuse me of being the thing he needed protection from! You've never once been grateful for any of this, have you?"

Belle whimpered. Blinking, Rumple stepped back, and all the madness and rage that had built up around him seemed to extinguish like a candle being snuffed out. He calmed and stepped forward cautiously, "Oh, Belle, no. I'm sorry-"

She pushed his hands away, and looked at him tearfully. "If this is the man my husband has become, then you're right," she said, voice trembling as she spoke, "I am against you. I won't leave you, but I won't tolerate this kind of treatment. Unless you find a way – a real way to get to my son, then I don't want to see or speak to you again. Stay. Away. From. Me."

She turned on her heel and ran out of the room. Rumple watched, wanting nothing more than to follow after her, but he held himself still. She wanted nothing to do with him. And who could blame her? He was a monster, after all, and deserved nothing more than what he'd received. Growling, he grabbed the tea cup she knocked over and threw it hard against the wall, the shattering crash doing little to satisfy the rage that was once again building up inside. His breathing grew heavy, as did his legs, and finally he could do nothing but sink to the ground, where he curled up and wept.

~000~

Belle slammed her bedroom door shut and threw herself onto her bed. The tears that had started downstairs now flowed anew and she let herself cry, mourning her son and her marriage. She didn't know the man that was downstairs. Her husband would never speak to her in such a manner, she thought, and she couldn't understand what had brought about such a sudden change. But then, she hadn't been particularly kind either. Ever since her father's death, things between them had started to fray and now it felt that everything they had worked for was undone. She sat up and wiped at her eyes. This wasn't them, she thought sadly. Her husband didn't scream at her and she didn't ignore him. Losing their son brought out the worst in them.

But this wasn't just about magic or their son. This was grief. Rumplestiltskin was grieving. It was clear he blamed himself, as she did. But she was grieving too, and she didn't know what to do. Before, whenever her sorrow had been too much to handle, she turned to her father. Or her husband, or Agda. Now she was separated from all of them, in one way or another. She was surrounded by loneliness and despair and there seemed to be no escape from it. The only thing she had now was this big, empty castle, and the only companion she had left was a man she had no desire to see at the moment. Sighing, she reasoned that perhaps her husband needed that explosion of emotion. It didn't excuse it, but perhaps it was necessary. All they had now was each other, and Belle could laugh at how pitiful they'd been at comforting one another.

She wondered if he would forgive her for her words, then paused. Was she ready to forgive him? A small part of her, the part that loved him unconditionally, wanted to say she could. But the rest of her disagreed. She didn't want to forgive him. She wanted to stew in the anger and sorrow, because at least then she could be comfortable and alone. It was too much effort to try to work things out right now, and Belle was tired. She felt empty, and if she tried to give anything, she feared she may break. It was no excuse, she knew, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Not yet. She would grieve, and give both herself and Rumplestiltskin time to calm down before she even thought of attempted a similar conversation.

Perhaps next time they would both be better at communicating.

She ended up falling asleep, waking up as the sun was setting. She stood and wandered over to the large wardrobe, but frowned when she couldn't see. The night before there a bright fire. Now it was dark and cold. She briefly played with the idea of going to Rumplestiltskin, but thought better of it.

"I wonder what I need to do to get a fire going," she murmured to herself, thinking of the trial of finding wood, flint, and a poker needed to care for the fire. She jumped when a fire sprang to life, crackling pleasantly as it filled the room with light and warmth. She stared, glancing around suspiciously before saying experimentally, "I'd like some tea…"

A tray with tea appeared on the vanity, and she looked on in awe. Had she done that? Or was it Rumple, able to hear her wishes? Or perhaps it was the castle itself, she thought idly. Rumple mentioned wanting her to be self-sufficient, and that he would be busy, so perhaps the castle was fixed to do as she wished. No matter how it worked, it was a strange feeling to know she could make things simply appear, and told herself to ask Rumple how it all worked when she was on speaking terms with him again.

Which could very well be a long time, she reminded herself, if his anger was anything to judge by.

She asked for a plate of bread and cheese, swallowing down the guilt she felt for using magic after she chastised Rumple for it only a few hours prior. She pushed that thought aside until she ate, needing something on her stomach to help her focus. She vowed to take the dishes to the kitchen when she finished and wash them herself. She wasn't going to become dependent on magic, she vowed. Not when she knew what happened to those who did.

She finished, then picked up the tray and left her room, determined to find the kitchen. She wandered down the hallway, jumping in surprise when the torches that lined the halls flickered to life as she passed. She gave a small nod of thanks, then realized how silly she was for such a thing, and carried on. After traveling through several rooms and up and down numerous flights of stairs, Belle huffed and sat down, balancing the tray on her knees. "I should have taken him up on an offer of a tour," she mused aloud, cursing her foolishness. "Oh well. I'll find it at some point."

She continued on, determined that if she didn't find it in what felt like fifteen minutes, she'd screw her pride and just call out for Rumplestiltskin. It ended up not being necessary, as she stumbled into the kitchen a few moments later. She sighed in relief, then took in the sight before her, and though she should not have been surprised, she was.

The kitchen was large; larger than a kitchen had a right to be, and she glanced around at all the shelves and cabinets, no doubt stocked full of food. She deposited the tray on the counter near the tub for washing and began to explore. There were candles lit everywhere and it was bright enough for her to see with ease. She opened doors, eyes widening as she saw the vast amounts of food. There was sugar and wheat, rice and cheese. There was a vast amount of wine, and even a shelf dedicated to sweet cakes that looked suspiciously like the ones Belle used to make.

She wandered further and found a door toward the back that led to a freezing cold room. It was by far the smallest room in the castle but it was crowded with hides of meat hanging on hooks. Belle blanched at how much there was; it was enough to feed them for at least a year! Shaking her head at the ridiculousness of what her reality appeared to be now, she shut the door and set about washing the few dishes she'd used.

The water in the tub was hot, and as she washed the dishes, she marveled at how quickly the chore was done when she didn't have to heat the water first. As guilty as it made her feel, she felt a particular joy at the thought of not having to heat water for every task anymore. It would be the one bit of magic she allowed herself to enjoy. That and the fire in her room, she decided with a firm nod. She would partake in no other magic from her husband, and she vowed to be firm on that regard. She would not use magic for anything else. Not when the cost had been her son.

Finished with her task, Belle returned upstairs. She managed to find her room with only a little trouble, and decided firmly that she would have to get – or make – a map to guide her around. She entered, grateful for the sanctuary that was her bedchamber, and took solace in the warm, bright fire that greeted her. She curled up in front of it for a while, allowing herself to become lost in her thoughts. Somewhere, a clock chimed to twelve and Belle gaped as she realized she'd spent an entire day in her room doing nothing but mope.

She bathed and dressed for bed, despite not feeling tired, and crawled into the vast emptiness between her sheets. Sighing, she studied the ceiling for some time and wondered what Rumplestiltskin was doing. Most likely looking for a way to find their son. She paused at that, and her stomach turned. She couldn't do anything, she realized with a sob. Even if she wanted to help Rumple with his quest to find this curse, there was nothing she could truly do. It all rested on Rumplestiltskin, and Belle wasn't certain if she trusted him not to fail.

"What's become of us?" She asked brokenly, "What are we going to do?"

~000~

Rumplestiltskin paced in his work room, still seething with anger. He'd locked himself in here after his fight with Belle that morning but even now, several hours later the pain was still fresh. She didn't want to have anything to do with him. She probably hated him, though she'd never come out and say such a thing. She was too kind for that, he thought bitterly. She would make him suffer in a multitude of ways, but she would never give him the satisfaction of telling him how she felt. She had made her feelings clear in other ways though, and he cursed himself for making it so she could be self-sufficient. She had no need of him now, and could find a way to spend the rest of her days mere rooms from him, but never once see or speak. It wasn't fair, he thought bitterly, but then when had life ever been kind to him?

Rumple tried to forget about the entire ordeal by immersing himself in his work, but every so often he found his thoughts drifting back to that morning, and the look of disgust in his wife's eyes. With a sigh, he plopped down onto a work bench and bent forward, resting his head in his hands and cursed. This wasn't what he wanted for them. He acquired this castle in a rather hefty deal, intending to bring Belle here so that she could grieve in comfort, and so he could work. But now they were here and he'd never felt so distant from her. Even when they'd barely known each other, there had been sweetness in her eyes, always directed at him, and he recalled bitterly when she'd told him she didn't care what others thought; she wanted to be with him. Now they could barely be in the same room together without one of them throwing accusations and blame at the other.

Sighing, he wondered what she was doing at this very moment. He felt a pang of longing to see her. He could look in on her easily, Belle never being the wiser for it. But he resisted. He wanted to approach her, but what did they possibly have to say to one another that hadn't already been said? And besides, she made it plain this morning that she wanted nothing to do with him. All she wanted was for him to find their son. And so he would. He would leave her in peace and throw himself into his work. But there was still the pull, the desire to see her look upon him with love again and not that hurt and betrayed gaze she'd set upon him that morning. That look would haunt him. Just as that green portal haunted him.

How was he to know that a magic bean would be Bae's solution? The memory of the day his father had shown his true colors played through Rumple's mind and he grimaced as he suddenly realized he'd done the exact same thing as his father. He'd let his child go.

It was a crippling revelation and Rumplestiltskin slid to the floor in anguish. He'd never wanted to be like his father and suddenly he was the very essence of the man he'd never forgiven. How could he expect his wife and son to forgive him for the very thing he still resented his father for? Was it enough that he regretted his actions? Surely his father never had. His father had the ability to come find him. And he hadn't. Was regret, remorse, and desperate grief enough to differentiate himself from the man who'd chosen youth over his own son? He couldn't bring himself to believe it. He began to weep again, overcome with sorrow, and he desperately wished that he could just drown in it and be done with his life.

Composing himself, he stood and decided that it was better to focus on work than on the pain of the past. He moved toward a shelf and pulled out one of the many books he'd collected in recent weeks. His collection was small yet, but he now had more books than most people in his village would ever see in their life, and surely there would be something in one of them that held the answer. If not, he would find more. There were plenty of desperate souls out there willing to make a deal, and he would use them all if it brought him one step closer to his son.

He opened the book then shivered, feeling his magic at work even without him doing anything. He could sense magic coming from the bathing room he'd provided for Belle. "Good," he thought, "She's at least letting my magic be of some use." He intended to give her a tour, show her all the place had to offer and instruct her on how to make the castle work for her, but they'd done nothing but fight since they set foot in here. "At least she figured it out on her own," he mused aloud, "My clever wife."

With that small comfort, he sat in a chair and began to read. He felt more focused now, the anger from yesterday more a dull ache than an overwhelming thought. He had no idea what sort of curse would get his son back, but the Reul Ghorm's hesitance assured him that there was a way. He flipped through the book, taking note of other spells and curses that could prove useful in the future. He searched, and hours melted into another day gone by. Then another and another. He hardly noticed except for the occasional pull of magic that informed him Belle had lit a fire or used warm water. It seemed that was all she did, and in the back of his mind that wasn't preoccupied with curses and his son, Rumple wondered what Belle was doing with her time.

He was brought out of those thoughts when he came across a passage in an old book he won in a deal from a neighboring village. It spoke of a curse that could transport the caster to any realm, magical or not. It could take one person, or a multitude, and Rumple found himself brimming with excitement and glee as he read the instructions on how to build the curse. It was extensive and complicated but it hardly mattered. He found it. He found a way and he began to laugh, the sound purely impish and mad. He leapt up and danced around the room, delight quickly making way for madness.

Finally he calmed himself enough to finish reading. The instructions were quite long and confusing, but Rumple paid that no mind. He'd learn. He continued reading, his grin slowly fading as he came upon the final instruction for the curse that would lead him to his son.

The final step of the spell must be performed accurately, else the curse will not work. The caster of the spell must sacrifice the heart of the thing he loves most. Only when this is accomplished will the curse take affect and transport those specified into the world desired.

He shook his head and cursed, slamming the book closed. With a growl he threw it hard against a shelf that held empty vials, feeling a brief moment of satisfaction as they all crashed and shattered. He lost his son. The only other person he had in this world that he loved was Belle. And to find his son, he would have to take her heart. "One love for another", he thought bitterly. Then he cursed again.

"No," he whispered aloud, "I cannot do it. I will not harm do it. There has to be another way."

He sagged, collapsing onto the floor and lying there in a state of despair. Hours ticked by as he laid there lifeless, reflecting over the curse that had been so close to taking him to his son. Then an idea struck him. He giggled, then the sound melted into a ferocious laughter that echoed through the halls, mad and terrifying.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't make that sacrifice. But someone else could. All he had to do was find someone more desperate and broken than him.

Author's Notes:

These two, man. They need to learn to communicate.

So now Rumple knows what needs to be done. But what will happen when Belle finds out? Will Belle find out? Oh dearie, dearie, dear.

Thanks to my betas. You guys are great.

Next Friday is Independence Day, but I can't imagine anything will hinder me from uploading a chapter. So, look for it on the 4th!

Thank you all for your reviews and your kind words. This week has been hard, but you guys have been great. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time. All rights belong to ABC, Adam Horowitz and Eddy Kitsis.