II
Interlude: Whale
II
He can't cure death, Whale keeps thinking. Of course, he's always known that. He's a doctor, not a miracle worker. He does what can be done (and brilliantly), but there are limits to what he can do, as much as he abhors them and wishes he could break them.
Now the limits are breaking him.
The world is ending. People are dying, people are dead, and he can't cure death. He became a doctor to be able to do something, and now he can do nothing. He can't bring the dead back, he can't, he can't, he can't.
He can't, Whale keeps thinking, and wonders if there is even anything left he can do.
II
Chapter eleven: What I have and what I ache for
Belle
II
She dreams of nothing sometimes. The nothing that is her memories, that is her. It's like a cold, white mist enveloping her, and yet she has to find a path through it.
Sometimes, she thinks she catches glimpses of something through the mist. Just vague shapes, slipping away whenever she steps closer.
There is nothing.
Just her. Just Belle.
And then she wakes.
II
It's spring.
The sun is bright and warm on her face, and Belle lets herself bask in it. There is still some lingering snow on the ground, but there is no doubt that spring has come.
They've made it through winter. They've lost a few animals, but apart from that, they've all survived. Supplies are running low, she knows from David, but with the onset of spring, she can almost see the hope on everyone's faces.
It's enough to make her smile.
Beside her, David is grinning, Emma in his arms and Mary Margaret has one arm looped around him. Emma has grown through the winter, a visible symbol of life continuing.
"Mama," Emma says sleepily, and Mary Margaret lights up enough to rival the sun. Yes. Emma is growing, and they can all see it.
And far behind them, but watching them intently, is Gold. Belle doesn't have to look behind them to confirm it; she just knows. He always does, after all. He's always there.
And despite her friends being with her and Gold, whatever he is to her, being there, she feels lonely. It is possible to be lonely even surrounded by people, Belle has learned.
Sure, David has sort of become a good friend; one that listens to her and chats to her in equal measure. But David has a family to focus on, he has Emma and Mary Margaret and what true love must look like outside of fairytales and books.
Mary Margaret is a friend too, and Ruby is, and Ava and Nicholas rely on her a lot, but still... She is lonely, she feels lonely.
A lot of it is because of him. Gold.
She reads to him at least a few times a week, and he always seems to linger near her, and he watches her. But he's not letting her in. He keeps her at a distance without really letting her go, and she wonders why.
If he wasn't there, maybe she wouldn't think so much about what might be. Maybe she would feel less lonely if she knew this was all she could have, but she rather thinks it's not.
Mary Margaret and David have found more, after all. Much more. She watches them without staring, smiling faintly at their obvious delight in each other.
David picks a snowdrop, weaving it into Mary Margaret's hair and whispering something to her that makes her blush. She glances up at him through lowered eyelids, and then they're kissing in the spring sun with their adopted baby sleeping against David's shoulder.
It's a poster picture for romance and love and even family, and it makes Belle happy and sad all at once. She wishes she could frame it, but most of all she wishes she could have it.
What makes it worse is that sometimes, she thinks maybe she did have it. It's not a memory, not exactly. It's just a feeling, a vague sense of loss, as if she almost had it and then it was gone.
And it's tied to Gold. Did she lose him? Did she ever have him?
With that thought, she turns to see that Gold is indeed standing some distance away. He's looking at Emma with a rather strange expression, but then he notices her looking and their gazes lock.
For a moment, he looks at her with a hunger that makes her breath catch and a softness that changes his whole face. And then the mask is there and it's as if she's lost him.
He stays still as she approaches though, looking guarded.
"Belle," he says, unable to keep a certain affection from his voice.
"Gold," she says, unable to keep from smiling slightly. "Enjoying the sun?"
He seems to consider his words carefully. "It is comforting to see another season. A reminder that time passes even when it doesn't feel like it."
"You want time to pass?" she asks curiously.
"More than anything," he says earnestly, and somehow she knows it's true. "I would very much like to see charming little Emma grow into a woman, wouldn't you?"
She glances over at David and Mary Margaret, who are holding hands and are walking slowly through the streaming sunlight towards their house, probably to put Emma to bed.
"What is it about Emma?" she asks. His face closes up, and she holds up a hand as he opens his mouth to answer. "No, don't lie to me."
"I don't lie to you, Belle," he says quietly. "I don't always tell the truth, but I don't lie, not to you."
"Is that supposed to be comforting?" she asks, feeling a spark of anger that she doesn't quite know the source of. "You play with words and I am supposed to take comfort in the fact that you don't technically lie?"
He looks at her, and for a moment she thinks he might even argue. Then he lifts a hand to her cheek, holding it against her skin for just a few seconds.
"I miss you," he says, and then he walks away.
Not letting her in - yet not letting her go, Belle thinks.
She won't stand for that.
II
The house Belle now lives in she shares with Regina and Owen, as well as Ava and Nicholas. It's a strange sort of arrangement, really. Ava and Nicholas and Owen get along and play together, but Regina remains distant and aloof.
Not with Owen, no. Owen clings to Regina and Regina clings right back, and Belle wonders about that.
Apart from Owen, Regina seems to be distant from everyone else. By choice more than anything, it seems. David and Mary Margaret are friendly, but Regina always gets strange around them both.
Belle tries to be friendly as well – she knows what it's like to be alone, after all. Oh, she knows. But Regina just looks at her coolly, the ice only breaking when Owen joins them. But then it does break, shattering in fact, and behind it Regina seems entirely different. Caring. Loving. Hopeful. Almost young, in a strange way.
II
"Tell me another story," Owen begs, and Belle pauses by the door to Regina and Owen's room. It's half-closed, and she can catch a glimpse of Owen resting his head on Regina's stomach. "Tell me the one about the Queen."
"You've heard that one a hundred times, Owen," Regina protests softly, but she sounds happy nevertheless.
"I want to hear it again."
"Once upon a time there was a young girl..."
"With a terrible mother!" Owen interjects.
"Owen..."
"She was! I think the Queen just didn't understand it since it was her mother and she loved her. But dad says there are bad moms. His mom was a bad mom. That's why he was going to be the best dad he could for me."
"Owen..." Regina says again, but she sounds close to tears this time. Strange, Belle thinks. "All right. Once upon a time there was a young girl with... With a terrible mother. The young girl didn't want what her mother wanted for her. She just wanted to marry the stable boy and be happy. But the stable boy died."
"So she became the Queen," Owen says. "And Snow White's mother."
"Snow White's step-mom," Regina corrects.
"Did she have to be Snow's real mom to love her like a mom?" Owen asks, and somehow Belle knows he's not just asking about Snow White.
"No," Regina says quietly. "But the young girl had lost her heart when she lost the stable boy, so she found it hard to love. But she wanted to. She always wanted to."
"That's sad," Owen says quietly. He looks up at Regina with so much affection, and even if she can't see Regina's face, Belle imagines it's mirrored there. "Do you think she can get her heart back and love again?"
"I hope she can, Owen," Regina says and he smiles.
"I think she can," he says with the determination of youth. "She'll live happily ever after just like the prince and Snow White will once we get them back to the Enchanted Forest."
Regina puts a hand on his head, and Belle tip-toes away then, leaving them to their fairy tales and hope for happy endings.
II
Ruby is often up early in the morning, Belle has learned. So sometimes when she wakes abruptly from her dreams, she joins Ruby outside and helps her with morning chores.
This morning Ruby is later than usual, her hair messy and her clothes seemingly put on in a hurry. Belle isn't exactly surprised when she spots Dr. Whale trying to discreetly sneak out of Ruby and Granny's small house a few minutes later.
Spring seems to bring out something in people, Belle reflects. Maybe it's surviving the winter or maybe it's the knowledge that beyond their small community, ruin and death lies.
And sometimes, death touches them too, and she glances over at Graham's grave. There are always flowers there now that spring has come. No one forgets even if they choose to focus on the positives. (They have to, after all. The world ended. That's enough negative to choke them all.)
"How's Granny doing?" Belle asks as Ruby pauses to glance over at her house with worry.
"Better," Ruby says distantly. "Victor... That is, Dr. Whale, he thinks that she'll do better now that spring has come. But next winter... I don't know."
Belle steps closer and then suddenly Ruby is leaning against her, and Belle pulls her into a hug. Ruby makes the occasional soft sob, but is mostly silent as Belle rubs her back again and again.
"I used to only think about getting away from her, from Storybrooke, from everything," Ruby says quietly after a few minutes. "Now all I can think about is wanting her to stay with me. Is that selfish?"
"No," Belle whispers, thinking about Graham, about how Gold looks at her and how much she would miss it if he was lost, about David and Mary Margaret and how impossible it seems to be to imagine them apart now. "It's hard to let go when you actually see what you have."
And what you might have, she doesn't say, but still feels. What might be can be just as alluring as what is.
She thinks she might finally understand why Gold keeps looking at her despite never making a move on her.
That leaves her, then.
II
The mist snakes around the houses, pale and white, as Belle makes her way to Mary Margaret and David's small house as evening fall. Candles are burning in the window, adding to the homey and rustic feel of it.
David opens the door a few moments after she knocks, giving her a smile.
"Belle," he says. "Mary Margaret and Emma will be back soon."
"I was actually hoping to talk to you," she says, and he opens the door more fully to allow her to come inside. "Thanks."
"Any time," he says warmly. It's warm inside too, as she slips into the house, holding her hands over the wood-burning oven for a moment before sitting down at the table. David sits down across from her, and she can see he's been working on putting together a bird house.
"Mary Margaret likes birds," he says by way of explanation; the only explanation needed, really. "What did you want to talk about?"
"I need seduction advice," she says, and David splutters and his eyes widen. She blushes but keeps her head held high.
"Um," he says. "You want to... Um."
"Seduce a man," she manages to say, wishing she had books she where could read about this instead, but she doesn't. And she has no one else she dares to ask.
"Okay," David says very slowly, still looking confused and more than a little awkward. "Um."
"I don't remember ever seducing anyone," she says hurriedly. "I don't know how. I just thought... You're a man, and you and Mary Margaret..."
"Belle," David cuts in, putting a hand on hers. "I would love to help you, but all Mary Margaret had to do was look at me and I was thoroughly seduced. She didn't have to do anything. She just had to be herself."
"Oh," Belle says, feeling slightly deflated.
"Maybe that's it, though," David says after a moment, his eyes kind. "If he truly likes you, it will be enough that you're yourself. Be Belle. How can Gold resist that?"
"I didn't say it was Gold," she says, blushing again. David smiles faintly.
"I'm an amnesiac, not blind," he jokes softly, and squeezes her hand.
"The amnesiac leading the amnesiac," she jokes back, and he smiles again.
"It's strange," he says thoughtfully after a moment. "Sometimes I actually forget that I have no memories of my life prior to all this."
"Don't you wish you knew who you were?" she asks curiously.
"Sometimes," he says honestly. "But a very good friend once told me that it is who I am now that matters."
Judging by his sad tone of voice and the faraway look on his face, she guesses that friend was Graham.
"I'm a husband," David goes on, and he smiles softly and so happily that his whole face lights up. "I'm a father. I have a family. That's who I am."
She's a friend, Belle thinks. That she definitely is. She's a reader. She's a survivor. What else can she be?
"There is one thing you could try," David says after a moment, as if the thought had just occurred to him.
"What?"
"Mary Margaret told me I should kiss her, so I did," he says, smiling as if remembering it. "You could always try that."
As if on cue, the door opens, and Mary Margaret enters with Emma in her arms. She gives Belle a quick, friendly smile, and then David a tender kiss as he rises to greet her.
"Hi," she says, and he smiles at that as if they share some sort of secret before giving her a kiss in return.
"Hi," he echoes, lifting Emma from her arms. "Hi Emma, daddy's favorite girl in the whole universe since mommy is his favorite woman."
"Dada," Emma says, digging her tiny hands into the cloth of his shirt. He smiles at that, sitting down with Emma in his lap. Mary Margaret sits down next to him and takes his hand, and they exchange a smile that manages to be intimate in a way Belle can't quite put to words.
"I should go," Belle says apologetically.
"You don't have to do that," David says, looking up at her.
"Stay for dinner," Mary Margaret suggests warmly, and David nods. Even Emma makes a soft noise.
"See?" David says. "The Nolan-Blanchard-Swan family has voted and you're staying for dinner."
"Thank you," Belle replies, feeling strangely lighter somehow. Maybe David (and Graham before that) are right. Maybe it's who she is now that matters, and who she is now doesn't have to be lonely unless she chooses to be.
Maybe it's not about knowing yourself. Maybe it's about trusting yourself.
II
As David goes to tuck Emma into bed, Mary Margaret watches them go with a soft smile and bright eyes.
"You're lucky," Belle says, then bites her lip. "Sorry, I meant..."
"I know," Mary Margaret says, still smiling. "I am. I know that. Emma and David, they're..."
"A happy ending?" Belle suggests, giving Mary Margaret a smile. "I like reading about them."
"Me too," Mary Margaret says. "We read fairytales to Emma sometimes. Regina gave us a book with them. I think Snow White is up next, after we finish Beauty and the Beast."
"She must like fairytales," Belle remarks. "She tells them to Owen quite often. Stories about the Enchanted Forest and the Queen who lost her stable boy."
Mary Margaret looks at her oddly for a moment, then seems to let the thought go and just smiles instead.
"It's nice to think there might be happy endings," she says, and Belle nods. It is. "Even if fairytales are just stories, they're stories that give us hope."
"Yes," Belle agrees eagerly. She thinks about all the books she's gathered, all the stories she's read. They all give her something. That's what most don't understand. They're books, but when she reads them, they're something more. She makes them something more by reading them.
"Is the book club in session?" David asks, leaning against the doorway to the bedroom and smiling at them. How long he's been standing there, Belle has no idea. "Can I join?"
"Of course," Mary Margaret says, and he walks towards her with bright, smiling eyes. "Did Emma fall asleep all right?"
"Out like a light before I could even reach for a book or a toy," he says, slipping down on the chair next to Mary Margaret and taking her hand. "We'll have to continue the tale of Belle and Rumpelstiltskin the Beast some other evening."
"Rumpelstiltskin?" Belle repeats, feeling something cold at the back of her neck. For a moment, something seems to reach for her through the mist that is her memories. But then it is gone.
"Yes," David says, unaware of her reaction. "In this version of the story, apparently Rumpelstiltskin is the beast."
"Oh," she says, nodding slightly. "Maybe I could read it one day."
"Of course," Mary Margaret says, and smiles. "Maybe it's a story you'll like."
II
It's late when Belle heads back into the night, smiling faintly to herself. She feels lighter, but most of all she feels more determined.
She wants a chance at, if not a happy ending, a happy part of her story.
So it's not her own house she finds her way to. It's Gold's, which is also one of their storage houses. No one dared invite themselves to live with him, so that's how it worked out. Not that he seemed to mind. He seems to relish making people come to him, but seems to think they never would unless they have something they need.
She knocks, and waits and bites her lip before finally, he opens.
"Belle," he says. He sounds half delighted, half cautious. "I was expecting you earlier."
"I had dinner with Mary Margaret and David," she tells him.
"Oh," he says, nodding slightly. "Good. They're good people."
She looks at him, noticing the longing in his eyes and the way he very, very slightly leans towards her.
"You should kiss me," she blurts out. His eyes widen, and then he glances down at her lips as if he's thinking about it. That is enough for her, and she tip-toes and kisses him very, very gently.
For a moment, they stay like that. Her lips on his, him perfectly still. Then very, very gently he kisses her back, his lips soft against hers.
He sighs as she steps even closer, then puts his hands on her arms and gently breaks the kiss. He looks at her, swallowing slightly, and she knows he would like to kiss her again very, very much.
"I can't..." he says, trailing off. "Belle..."
"You don't want me?" she says, and he shakes his head furiously.
"I want you so much it frightens me," he admits, and she swallows. "That's why I can't, Belle. I want more than you can give me right now. I want you."
"This is me," she says softly, leaning in. "I may not remember who I was, but I know who I am."
"You don't know who I am," he says, pressing his forehead against hers. "You don't know... I did something unforgivable. I'm still doing something unforgivable."
"Who are you saying can't forgive it, you or me?" she asks, and he's silent for a long time. "You can't forgive yourself, can you? So you think no one else will."
"I'm afraid," he says quietly, so very quietly.
"Then let me be brave," she counters, and kisses him again. Not as softly this time. She dares be slightly demanding this time, tugging at his lips and not just brushing them. His hands remain on her arms, but digging softly into her skin now.
"Belle," he murmurs.
"Yes," she says, smiling against his lips before pulling away. "I believe I still owe you a book-reading tonight."
"You don't have to do that," he says, cupping her cheek so gently it is as if he's afraid to break her.
"A deal's a deal," she says firmly, and he looks at her with eyes that suddenly seem old and sad.
"A deal's a deal," he agrees, and she steps past him and inside.
II
She dreams, but only vaguely, as if her dreams are wrapped in mist. There is something there, she knows, something beyond the nothingness. Something she can't see. Something she can't remember.
Something she can't reach.
Her story. It's there, somewhere in the mist. She doesn't know how it started, or what chapters have come before. She only knows what is now.
Her story.
She doesn't need to know the beginning to decide the end, she thinks faintly, and blinks against the sudden light.
II
Light.
She blinks against it some more, slowly focusing and realizing she's not sleeping and not dreaming. She's tucked into a blanket on the couch with her head propped up on pillows and Gold sitting right next to her and watching a candle burn.
She was reading. She must have fallen asleep, she realizes, and rather than waking her, he's tucked her in. It's dark outside, and she has no idea what time it is.
"Is it time to wake up?" she asks sleepily.
"No," Gold says kindly. "Sleep, Belle. It's not time to wake up for a long time yet."
So she does; sleeping through the night and dreaming of nothing.