Chapter 45: Definitions

Rumplestiltskin escorted Belle down the stairs and into the main hall of the inn. People had gathered for breakfast, which consisted of an array of pastries, fruit, and cheeses. Belle piled fruit onto her plate, glancing sheepishly at Rumplestiltskin, who eyed her with amusement. They'd never gotten around to eating the night before, instead choosing to spend the evening wrapped around each other, working through the months of isolation and loneliness they'd endured.

Nudging him gently with her elbow, Belle picked up a piece of melon and popped it into her mouth. Rumplestiltskin picked at the few pieces of fruit on his plate, eyeing the crowd as he pretended to busy himself. He was on alert, though he had no reason to be overly suspicious. At any rate, Belle was right: they would be fine. One would have to be stupid to attack him outright, and even then, he hadn't frequented this part of the realm in his short time as The Dark One. He was still well-known, centuries of Dark Ones prior having ensured that. It seemed most people weren't aware of the transfer of power from one Dark One to the next, and thus assumed he was still the same Dark One their parents and grandparents had warned them of as children. All for the best, Rumple thought as he watched Belle eat her breakfast, looking flushed and happy. If they fear me enough, perhaps they'll leave us be.

Once they finished their meal, both very aware of eyes watching their every move, they had their coach hitched up and set out again. It had been a pleasant night, filled with love and heat and passion, but now it was daylight, and it was time to put aside their rekindled affection for one another and set out for their true purpose: bringing Bae home.

They settled in the stagecoach and set out for another day's journey. This repeated for several days, their time spent curled up in the carriage or holed away in the best room of the local inn. It was nice to spend so much time with each other, but both Belle and Rumple were getting increasingly anxious over finding the Elder Tree.

On the sixth day of their journey, Belle pulled out on of the books she'd taken from the trunk to read. She curled up against Rumple, blanket wrapped snugly around her as she read. Rumple watched her with interest as the carriage bounced along, and finally, after she'd read nearly three chapters with hardly a protest he asked, "How are you reading on such a rough road?"

It took Belle a moment to realize her husband had spoken, and she glanced at him apologetically. "I'm sorry," she said, "What?"

He pointed toward the book. "How on earth can you read?"

Belle glanced down, then shrugged. "I don't know. I just am." She thought a moment before asking, "Would you like me to read aloud?"

Rumplestiltskin perked up at that. "That would be nice."

With a smile, Belle repositioned herself, pressing her back to his side and flipped the book to the beginning. Rumple shut his eyes as he listened to her read, and for a moment it felt almost as if they were back in the small one-room shack, in a time when things were much simpler. And though there was still the deep hurt of Bae's absence, Rumple couldn't bring himself to regret this moment. He was now closer to Belle than ever before. Soon he would be reunited with Bae, he hoped, and then everything would be as it should.

Except….

"Belle."

Belle stopped reading and tilted her head back to look at Rumple. "Yes?" She sat up to better face him when she noticed the horror stricken look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"What if Bae doesn't forgive me?"

Belle felt a weight settle over her at the question. It was perfectly valid; Bae hadn't witnessed Rumple's journey over the past few years, and the boy would be hard pressed to go running into his father's arms, that much was certain. In fact, Belle wouldn't be surprised if Baelfire ran away if he were to see his father approaching. She hoped against it, but it was a very real possibility. One it seemed Rumple had only just realized.

Feeling an overwhelming desire to protect Rumplestiltskin, but without giving him false hope, she took Rumple's hand in hers and traced over his green-gold fingers.

"It's possible that could happen," she admitted, tightening her grip on her husband's hand when he whimpered. "But you have to know he's going to be angry."

"He has every right to be," Rumple said after a moment of contemplation.

"Then you don't push it," Belle said, causing Rumple to glance at her uncertainly. "Bae is going to be angry. I was angry. And he knows less about you than I do, and it's going to take time for him to understand what happened that night. Plus, we don't know what else he's endured, or if he's even-"

"He's alive," Rumple snapped. Belle shot him a heated look and he glanced away, ashamed at how quickly he'd reacted. "Forgive me," he sighed, "You're right, though. It's possible he…isn't…"

"This is one instance where I don't want to be."

"I don't want him to hate me forever. Not as I loathe my father. I have never forgiven him; I don't know if I ever could."

"Rumple," Belle said, moving again so that she sat across from him. She leaned forward and took his hands, holding them between them. "You've spent all this time trying not to be like your father. You need to stop."

She saw the confusion flash in his dark eyes, but she had a point, and he needed to hear it. Carrying on, Belle said, "You don't want to be like your father, so don't be. Stop trying to think of what your father would or wouldn't do, and start thinking about what Rumplestiltskin would do. Don't let his actions dictate yours."

"But he's haunted me for years," Rumple said weakly, his head hanging low.

"Rumplestiltskin," Belle asked, lifting her hand to his chin. She raised his head to look at her and leaned closer. "Do you remember what I told you the first night we were together at the summer festival?"

He thought for a moment, ultimately shaking his head no. It had been a long time since that night, and while he remembered how lovely Belle had looked, and the joy he'd felt from dancing with her, he couldn't recall what she'd said to him.

"I told you we're all more than our reputations," she said, "And it's just as true now. You are so much more than what your father was. You sacrificed everything for your son. You're still making sacrifices. You're trying to fix your mistake, which is more than can be said for Malcolm. Rumple," she stressed, "You don't have to try to be better than your father because you already are."

"Belle," Rumple whimpered, falling to his knees on the carriage floor. He wrapped his arms around her waist, sobbing into her skirts while Belle ran her fingers through his hair and cooed gently. He remained that way for a long while, clinging to her and crying. Belle made no effort to move him, knowing it would be best to let him sort himself out in his own time. Instead she rubbed him, tracing abstract patterns over the parts of his body she could reach, eventually leaning over to press kisses to the back of his head.

"I never met Malcolm," she whispered, "But you've told me enough to know that you're nothing like him. That man didn't love anyone but himself, but you? You love so much. You love Bae, and you love me. And it's the most powerful and precious thing I've ever known. You're so much more than your father, Rumplestiltskin."

He said nothing, just continued to sob, clinging to her as she tried her best to soothe him. She'd known from the very first moment she met Rumplestiltskin that he was broken, but she never knew just how deep those wounds ran. She wished to protect him as he wanted to protect her, and it upset her greatly that she couldn't take away his pain in that moment and ensure that he never hurt because of his past again.

Instead they would have to look toward the future, and ensure that history never repeated itself.

When he at last calmed and raised his head, it was nearly dark. He sniffed, wiping his nose with his hand and pulled himself up to sit on the bench across from Belle.

She could barely see him, but she could sense that he was calmer now. He waved his hand and a small candle appeared, floating to the side and offering them some light. "You've not eaten," he said hoarsely and Belle shrugged.

"I've been doing more important things."

A small smile traced Rumple's lips and he cleared his throat. "I'll have to make sure you eat once we're settled at the inn."

"Are we close?"

Rumple peeked out the window and from the light shining, Belle could see streaks of tears where Rumple had wept. Her skirts were slightly damp, but that was hardly important. What mattered was that Rumplestiltskin was okay, and based on the way he looked at her, grinning and mischievous, she thought he might be.

"Should be there at any moment."

"Good," Belle said, slinking down and stretching her legs out onto the seat across from her. "I can't wait to get out of this carriage."

"Thank you, Belle," Rumple said suddenly. Belle glanced up at him, feeling her eyelids getting heavy.

"For what?"

Rumple shook his head. "For everything."

Belle reached out and their fingers intertwined. There was nothing more to be said.

She must have dozed off, because what felt like only a moment later, Rumple was gently shaking her.

"We're here," he said when she opened her eyes wearily. Belle groaned, and sat up, limbs heavy from lack of movement. Rumple helped her out of the carriage, and she leaned against it as Rumple had the young man who came out to greet them pull down the trunk.

When he was ready, Belle grabbed the basket and followed Rumple inside. It was the same as every inn they'd stopped at. Rumple behaved menacingly, which Belle was certain ensured them privacy. No one wanted to wait on the Dark One it seemed. They retired to their room – once again the best the inn had to offer – and Belle collapsed onto the bed with a groan. From behind her, Rumplestiltskin chuckled, and Belle sat up, glaring at him as she began to fiddle with the laces of her dress.

When she had changed into a nightgown, she crawled back onto the bed and settled herself against the stiff pillow. Patting the spot beside her, she wordlessly beckoned Rumple to join her, and after he magically changed from his clothing to his night shirt, he followed eagerly.

"You still haven't eaten," he said as she snuggled against him.

"Too tired to eat," Belle murmured, already half asleep. She whined when Rumple jostled her, and pushed her away from him gently.

"No sleeping until you've eaten something, he chided. When Belle tried to protest, he pressed a finger against her lips. "You fret over whether I eat," he explained, "And it's only fair the favor be returned."

In response, Belle opened her mouth and bit Rumple's finger playfully, holding it only hard enough so that he couldn't pull it away.

"I hardly count as a meal, sweetheart."

Belle giggled and let go of him, feeling absolutely silly. She blamed it on her fatigue, and snickered as she watched Rumple summon the basket of food over to the bed. He gave her a strange look and she waved him away. "I'm fine," she said, "Just feeling silly."

Handing her a piece of cheese and some bread he said, "Eat a little, then, my silly wife. Then you can sleep. I promise."

With another yawn, Belle obeyed. When she finished, she rolled over, pulled the covers on her and bid him a mumbled 'good night.'

Rumple smiled at her behavior. She had endured so much over the past week, it was no wonder she was exhausted. He was exhausting to be around he figured, and it amazed him that she had yet to become irritable with him. The woman truly had an abundance of patience.

Once he cleared the mess he'd made, he crawled into bed as well, and pulled Belle to him. She groaned at the disturbance, but did not awaken and Rumple pressed his nose into her hair, breathing her in as he tried to relax.

Sleep did not come, and Rumple found himself mulling over his wife's words: "You don't have to try to be better than your father because you already are. "

It was a hard concept to grasp. His father had left such an impression on him, that Rumple had spent the rest of his life trying to define himself as not his father. But in all that time, where had he allowed himself to be defined as he was? He had been a lowly spinner, living under the shadow of his father. Then he had been the village coward. Now he was The Dark One. The rest of the world saw him as those things, but how did he see himself?

He glanced down at his sleeping wife, recalling another conversation when Belle had told him that Rumplestiltskin had always been enough for her. But there was a problem with that, Rumplestiltskin thought. He didn't know who Rumplestiltskin was. He rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling trying to come to a conclusion. Who was he?

He was a coward, that was certain. But he'd also been brave. He'd sacrificed his leg to be with his son, and had spent many wonderful years watching his boy grow.

He was a spinner. He made his living by spinning wool. Now he spun gold. He'd always cherished the wheel and its ability to make something beautiful out of something rough and ugly. No matter wool or straw, what came forth from his hands began as worthless but was transformed into something of value.

Again, he glanced at Belle and considered what she had done to him. She had taken a meek, illiterate man and turned him into a husband and father. Through her hands he had learned to read, write, and become a better person. Belle had made him valuable.

That was who he was, he realized with blink. He was a husband and a father. Out of everything else he was, had been, and would be, that was where his value lay. With his family. They were what defined him; not his past, not his magic, not even his father. As he thought back to his life with Malcolm and compared it to the life Bae had lived, Rumple understood that despite all his mistakes, he was nothing like the man that had forsaken him for eternal life. He was more than that. He was better than that.

Slipping out of bed, Rumple scribbled a quick note and left it on the pillow next to Belle's head. There was a renewed determination in him – it had never waned, but was now bubbling within him, fueling him with the blind drive he'd felt in the days immediately following his son's disappearance. He was brimming with energy, and he couldn't wait until daylight to renew their quest. Vanishing in a puff of smoke, he grinned madly. He was driven with purpose: He had a tree to find and a son to bring home. And time was wasting.

Author's Notes:

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! We are getting ever closer to the end. I finished the story a coupe days ago. I'm a bit in shock that I've actually written the entire thing, but I feel quite accomplished. I can't wait for you to see how it all ends!

Apologies for any mistakes in this chapter. Neither of my betas were able to look over this chapter. But that's life sometimes.

Chapter 46 will be up either Friday, October 10 or Saturday, October 11. I hate that I'm not able to stay consistent with the updates, but that's what happens when you buy a house that needs remodeling!

As always, thank you for your kind words. Your reviews are a delight to read. :-)

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