Chapter Forty-Seven—"Truth and History"

Belle sat at his side for hours before he woke up again, holding his left hand in her own and trying not to notice how limp and pale Rumplestiltskin looked against the white sheets. His face was bruised and puffy, with a strange flatness around his right cheekbone that told Belle it was broken. From what she could see around the hospital gown, he was wrapped in bandages, and his right leg was already in traction. He looked horrible, tiny and beaten, and those were words she had never thought to apply to her husband. But there was nothing she could do for him, even after Whale had detailed his long list of injuries for her. All Belle could do was sit by Rumplestiltskin's side and wait, refusing to leave when Whale told her that visiting hours were over. Fortunately, he took pity on her and let her stay, even though he shouldn't have.

A groan was the first indication that he was starting to wake up, and Belle braced herself for incoherency, pain, and the loopiness that Whale had warned her was bound to occur. But after a moment—far too quickly, instinct told her—Rumplestiltskin's eyes flickered open, dancing quickly around the room before they settled on her.

"Belle?" he whispered, and although his voice was muffled and scratchy, she could understand him just fine. But he had to be out of it if he was using her real name in a semi-public area. Thankfully, they were alone.

"Yes," she replied, relief making the word gush out of her. She wanted to kiss him so badly, but she thought that even kissing his forehead would hurt him, so Belle contented herself with squeezing his hand. Biting her lip hard to keep tears back, she finally managed to add: "Oh, Rumple. I'm so sorry. I never thought they would do something like this. I don't understand why they did."

"…not your fault, sweetheart," her husband said softly, punctuating the sentence with a cough.

"That doesn't mean I don't want to throttle them," Belle retorted fiercely, and she thought she saw something like a smile flicker through Rumplestiltskin's eyes.

"Do it…for both of us," he wheezed, then slurred: "Is G—Renee—okay?"

Belle nodded. He really was out of it if he caught himself using their daughter's real name. "She's at home, sleeping. It's the five in the morning. Marie and Dove are there with her."

"Oh."

A moment passed before she finally felt fingers squeeze her own in return, and Belle felt like crying in relief. "What can I do?" she asked, desperate to find some way to help him.

Belle was no doctor, but she knew that injuries like this wouldn't heal quickly. Rumple would be in the hospital for weeks, at best, and what would they do in the meantime? Worse yet, Whale had told her about the potentially crippling—further crippling—injury to his right leg, and Belle knew how much that would bother her husband. He hated the limp that the Land Without Magic had returned to him, and although Belle knew that her father and Tony had no idea what they were doing to his psyche when they shattered his leg so completely, they really had done one of the worst things it was possible to do to Rumplestiltskin. The fact that they'd done it unknowingly did nothing to make the situation better, either.

"…don't know," Rumplestiltskin whispered weakly, prompting Belle to squeeze his hand again.

"You look horrible." She bit her lip, but the words still slipped out.

"Feel pretty horrible, too," her husband replied, and Belle swallowed hard.

"I'll stay with you," she promised. "And when I can't be here, Dove will be. We won't leave you alone.

"All right." The fact that he didn't argue at all told Belle how much pain he was in; his eyes had started to glaze over a little, and looking at him like this broke her heart. She had to find a way to help him, but this was not the world she'd grown up in. There, injuries like this could be healed much more quickly—and, in Rumplestiltskin's case, never would have been suffered in the first place. She wanted to go scream at her father, to demand of him how in the world he thought this might help. Moe and Tony had damn near killed the man she loved, and Belle could not forgive them for it. She wasn't sure she ever would.

"I love you," Belle said fiercely, leaning over to kiss his hand.

"…love you, too," Rumplestiltskin whispered in return before fading back out.

Neither realized that they were being watched.

Regina stood in the doorway, staring at the scene in front of her. Rumplestiltskin was too out of it to notice her presence, and Lacey French was obviously not paying attention, but she'd been standing there for several minutes, watching the conversation with an ever-increasing feeling of shock. First, Rumplestiltskin had asked about the little French girl—perhaps not such a surprise, given the soft spot Regina had always known he had for children—but the way Lacey had spoken to him was what really threw Regina for a loop.

Lacey was no frightened concubine, no struggling single mother making a deal with the devil to stay afloat. She spoke to Rumplestiltskin like an equal, worried over him like she cared, and looked utterly devastated by his condition. Could the girl be living with him because she wanted to? Rumplestiltskin had been typically close-mouthed about it, but Regina had always known he wasn't the type to lock a woman up and use her for his own pleasure. The logical assumption, if Lacey French was living with him willingly, was that the curse had created whatever relationship was between them, and that the poor girl—whoever she was—had no idea that she was sleeping with the most dangerous monster in town. But if she wants to be there… Regina shook herself, and then her head snapped around when she heard Rumplestiltskin respond to the phrase she had very much not expected Lacey to use.

I love you.

Hearing her old teacher say that sent a chill down Regina's spine. She knew better than most that Rumplestiltskin certainly was able to feel positive emotions towards people, but love? She wasn't sure if he was capable of truly feeling that, and she certainly hadn't expected to hear him say it to his still-cursed kept woman. Was he mad? Was he playing her? Or is he just that out of it, hurting and needing someone? Regina dismissed the last possibility quickly; Rumplestiltskin might look human, but applying that kind of human frailty to him was dangerous. She knew him well, and cared for him as a friend and maybe even something of a crazy uncle, but Regina had never allowed herself to forget that he wasn't human. Assuming he had human traits like that was asking for disaster.

Yet he'd just said that to the little maid, and why? There was something going on here, something more than Regina had been able to discover, and she needed to know what it was. Bad enough that Lacey French's father and ex-boyfriend had put the Dark One into the hospital; that was a handicap Regina could ill afford at the moment. She had a curse to break, and Rumplestiltskin was now beyond useless. He'd be stuck in that bed for weeks, if not months, and here in the Land Without Magic, any handicap worse than his limp was really going to get in the way.

I guess it's on me, now, she realized with a sigh, turning away from the odd scene in front of her as Lacey put her head down on the bed next to Rumplestiltskin's. The Dark One was sleeping now, or unconscious, but the girl's worried expression hadn't changed. Regina still didn't trust her, but either Lacey was the world's best actress, or she wasn't playing her employer. Whatever was going on between them, however, had suddenly thrust itself right into the middle of Regina's curse-breaking quest, and that meant she had to figure out what it was.

Fast.

1 Year Before the Curse

That evening, Rumplestiltskin had told Gabrielle a bedtime story about two sisters, one of whom saved the other with an act of True Love, and that got Belle to thinking. First of all, because she was fairly sure that she knew that story from another angle, but also because it was the first example she'd ever heard of where True Love had not the exclusive province of lovers. That, of course, had made her research True Love a bit—her husband really did have the best library of books on magic in the entire world—and what Belle found was rather illuminating. She hadn't known much about True Love before meeting Rumplestiltskin and accidentally discovering she shared it with him. Every child born in the Enchanted Forest had heard of it, of course, but knowing that True Love existed and knowing exactly what it could do were two very different things.

True Love comes in a myriad of forms: love between lovers, love between siblings, and even love between a parent and a child, the Great Book of Greater Magics told Belle, but it was the last bit that stood out to her. She had seen Rumple kiss Gabi a hundred times, and vice versa. But perhaps their daughter was too young for such emotions to make sense in her mind. Did that mean that someday Gabrielle would be unable to kiss her father? That very thought made Belle's heart ache. She accepted—albeit unhappily—that she would never be able to kiss Rumplestiltskin outside of Amorveria, and maybe in this Land Without Magic that he planned on taking them to. But to force their little girl to walk that same path would break both her and Rumple's hearts.

That knowledge was what made Belle start additional research the following day. There had to be some way around Rumplestiltskin's curse, something they could do to prevent the kiss from taking away his power. Belle understood why Rumplestiltskin couldn't let go of the magic, and she also had seen him, time and again, successfully fight back the darkness and prove he could love his family. She loved all of him, even his darkest core, and she would not take his power away unless he wanted her to. He needed the magic to find Baelfire, and Belle had promised years ago to help him on that quest.

That said, she might have also been feeling a bit selfish when she started reading Dark Power: the World's Darkest Curses. Belle also very much wanted to be able to kiss her husband again.

The book was fascinating, although less than helpful. It did not tell her much that Rumplestiltskin had not already shared or Belle had not figured out for herself, but she read the appropriate sections from start to finish, anyway. Rumple had planned a day out with Gabrielle today, taking her to see some magical creatures that their two year old was fascinated by, which meant Belle had plenty of time to read and no need to rush. So, when she finished with that book, she hefted another, and then another, combing through the books that she knew Rumplestiltskin kept hidden away from the world. Long ago, he had admitted to her that he had destroyed every meaningful reference to his curse that he could find, saving only one copy of each for his own library. She'd never quite understood his paranoid need for secrecy, but it wasn't like he kept the books where she couldn't find them.

Finally, however, she flipped open the Leabhar Dubhailt Dìomhair, mentally translating the title to mean something along the lines of 'the book of darkness' secrets'. This book had been gathering dust in a corner of Rumplestiltskin's workshop, high on a shelf and obviously not read in years. When Belle started the first chapter, she immediately understood the reason for that: it was a book full of theories written by a group of sorcerers and lords almost four hundred years earlier. None of the authors had actually been the Dark One, and Belle almost put the book aside before she read a notation at the end of one of the biographies.

Lord Reinhold, Earl of Whitefish Bay: controlled Prospero, the Dark One following the demon Rasputin, for sixteen years until the dagger was stolen by the sorcerer Atlantes, later to fall in the hands of Zoso (see appendix 4 for a list of all Dark Ones and appendix 5 for a list of all masters and mistresses of the Dark One).

Blinking, Belle flipped to appendix 5, resisting the urge to look at the rest of the book—which had apparently just become a lot more useful—until she was done. Although she was not how anyone calling themselves the 'masters and mistresses of the Dark One' might actually accomplish such a deed, given that she fully understood exactly how powerful Rumplestiltskin was, she was curious. So, her eyes scanned over the list of names, narrowing as they read the most interesting ones of the bunch. The list started with Danns' a'Bhàis (the First, Tia Dalma, Sekhmet, Väinämöinen, Muriel, Gargamel) and ended with Tobias, Duke of the Frontlands (Zoso). Turning a few pages back to the previous appendix, Belle was able to discover that Danns' a'Bhàis—who ever that was—had 'controlled' the first six Dark Ones, and the Duke of the Frontlands had controlled Zoso, who was the last Dark One listed in the book.

Had Zoso been Rumple's predecessor? Judging from the date on the book, and from how old Rumplestiltskin was, that seemed likely. Belle also knew that her husband was originally from the Frontlands, and didn't that make the pieces fit together? And yet as interesting as this information was, it was of absolutely no use in her quest, so Belle flipped back to the table of contents to see if she could find anything else. Most of the chapter titles seemed less than useful, but one jumped out at her, although Belle didn't know why.

Chapter 8 – the Dagger of the Dark One

She'd never seen Rumple carrying around any specific dagger, but the reference piqued her interest. So, she flipped to the chapter and began to read.

"The source of the Curse of the Dark One appears to be a kris dagger. Although how the curse was initially created remains a mystery, the fact that the kris dagger is irrevocably linked to the Dark One and can control him or her has been proven time and again. Some theorize that the dagger was a later addition to the curse, while others maintain that the Black Fairy, or perhaps the Sorcerer, had a hand in fusing the two together in the beginning. The truth is that how the connection was forged is immaterial. The fact that no Dark One has succeeded in cleaving themselves from the dagger's control since the origin of the curse is most important.

"The kris dagger's control is absolute. When wielded by anyone other than the Dark One, it forces the Dark One to do their master's or mistresses' bidding. Although most Dark Ones will fight this control, their curse will exact a heavy price upon them for doing so, namely subjecting the Dark One to excruciating pain until obedience is granted. The Dark One may not harm the holder of the dagger so long as the kris dagger remains in their possession, and few have ever escaped the control.

"For example, when Lord Reinhold held the dagger, he commanded Prospero to slay the royal families of three kingdoms, which was immediately done, save for the royal daughters, whom Reinhold commanded be brought to him so that he might choose a wife from amongst them, thus inheriting the kingdom. Later, Prospero would (at his master's command) harness the creature Caliban, losing it and his dark magics upon all of Reinhold's enemies. Prospero was said to have resisted battling Caliban, fighting against the command until he bled from the ears and the eyes. After his victory, Reinhold imprisoned his slave in a tower for a score of years, granting the monster neither food nor water and sending clerics in to force the Dark One to pay for the great deeds of darkness done in Reinhold's name."

"That's horrible," Belle whispered to herself, staring at the page and re-reading the description of how absolute the control of the dagger was. There were further examples of the things that Dark Ones had been forced to do, of how they had been harmed by their masters (or by their own curse) for resistance.

Further down the page, a few more lines leapt out at her. "Few Dark Ones have lived out their entire lives in possession of the kris dagger. To date, only Feyja was able to keep the dagger out of another's hands, and she was slain only sixteen years after taking on the curse."

Then there was this interesting tidbit: "The kris dagger also remains the only way to kill the Dark One, and the death comes at a high price. Upon stabbing the Dark One in the heart, the killer becomes the new vessel for the curse, which transfers immediately to him or her. There is no avoiding this, as heroes Dallben and Taran discovered when they sought to rid the world of their monstrous predecessors. Soon enough, the curse consumed them as well, leaving both men simply horrific shadows of their former selves. Several sects of clerics believe that the best course of action is to torture a Dark One until they are unable to use conscious magic, thus keeping them unable to resist commands…"

Belle felt nauseous. Unless there was some other Curse of the Dark One, the people detailed in this book had been Rumplestiltskin's predecessors, which meant what had happened to them could also happen to him. The authors of the Leabhar Dubhailt Dìomhair didn't seem to think that any Dark One could ever possess any goodness whatsoever, but Belle had seen that was a lie. She knew Rumplestiltskin was not like that…and yet he had never once told her of this dagger.

She had started this quest for information to find a way to kiss her husband without breaking his curse, but that lack of trust made her heart ache.

Belle finally left the hospital around lunchtime, knowing that she couldn't leave Renee alone for the entire day but burning to stay by Rumplestiltskin's side. He was in and out, alternating between loopy and logical, and obviously in more pain that the morphine could keep up with. Seeing him like that absolutely broke her, and she wanted to help him more than anything, but what could she do? Right now, she couldn't even stay by his side. She needed to go home, take care of their daughter, and clean herself up before coming back that evening—despite the fact, as Whale had already told her firmly, she would be forced to leave when visiting hours ended. The fact that Dove was there to watch over her husband comforted her little, but Belle had to leave.

The wind was blowing pretty hard when she stepped out of the hospital, and Belle thought she smelled snow in the air. Ruby had driven her to the hospital the previous night after Belle called her in a panic, but she had planned on walking home today, knowing that she needed the time alone to clear her head and figure out what she was going to do. Rumple was down for the count, and not much good at planning at the moment, and that meant that Belle needed to step in and shepherd the curse breaking while he could not. I am not going to let him lose his chance to find his son because of this, she thought determinedly. It was now January, and Emma's birthday had been in October. That meant they only had seven months left before the end of her twenty-eighth year, and given how stubborn Emma was, that could be a problem if Rumplestiltskin was out of the game for too long.

She would have to pick up where he had left off. Fortunately, Rumplestiltskin kept her appraised of Emma's progress, using Belle as a sounding board or someone to vent his frustration to. She knew what had happened and what had not, and knew that although Emma owed both a favor and 'belief' to Rumple, the Savior was still dragging her feet. Regina was more hesitant to help, particularly after Cora had so obviously targeted her son, and that meant that someone had to talk Emma into believing.

Belle could do that. In fact—

"Hey, Lacey!" a voice interrupted her thoughts, tires squealing.

Skidding to a stop as she crossed the street, Belle found herself inches away from the bumper of a rusty red pickup truck, complete with Keith Law waving at her from the driver's side window. Had he almost hit her with his truck? Belle knew that the man was a regular menace on the road—because if he was awake, he'd probably been drinking—but that was a bit more than even Keith usually did.

Unbidden, the memory of the Sheriff of Nottingham came to mind, of a drunk and disgusting man demanding that Rumplestiltskin give him twenty minutes with his 'wench' in exchange for information. Even back then, the Dark One had been more of a gentleman than this oaf, and Belle firmly believed she had started to love Rumple that day. He'd looked so shocked and so horrified when Nottingham made that demand, and had defended her honor expecting nothing in return. That was the first day that I really saw the man behind the monster, she remembered, and that thought brought a smile to her face.

"Going somewhere?" the deputy sheriff asked, and hearing his voice brought back far less pleasant memories and killed Belle's smile. Lacey remembered how this human piece of garbage trying to rape her one night, and Belle wasn't prepared to forgive that, not given what the real man behind Cora's curse had once tried to do.

"Yes," she replied shortly, wrapping her arms around her chest to keep warm. "Home."

"To Gold's? I hear he had quite the accident," Keith actually chuckled, and suddenly the idea of slapping that grin off his face was very appealing. "Remind me to buy Tony and your dad a drink when the judge commends them for doing a public service."

"What?" Belle gasped, staring at the grungy looking man in shock as he put his truck in park and climbed out.

"Well, they freed you from that bastard, didn't they?"

"What is wrong with you people?" she demanded before she could stop herself. "Gold isn't forcing me to do anything, and I am exactly where I want to be!"

Keith grabbed her arm, leering down at her chest. "Well, then, babe, why don't you come along to somewhere else you want to be?" he asked, grinning and obviously pleased at his own clever remark. "With me."

"I wouldn't want to be with you if the world was ending." Belle tried to yank away, but he managed to hold onto her.

"Ah, c'mon, Lacey. You know you want me. You always have."

Keith leaned in for a kiss, and Belle dodged, trying again to pull away and only finding that he was stronger than he looked. And drunker. She could smell the cheap booze on his breath, and it made her want to gag.

"Let go of me," Belle hissed.

"Not until you give me a kiss," he giggled.

What she gave him was a resounding slap, right to the left cheek, swinging as hard as Belle could manage. She was not terrified wallflower, and she wasn't Lacey French, either, who always tried so hard to be brave but never quite managed to stand up for herself. She was Belle of Avonlea, Lady of the Dark Castle, and she wasn't about to let this demented lecher slobber all over her. Yowling in pain, Keith stumbled back, and Belle bared her teeth at him in a sneer.

"I'd rather kiss an ogre," she told him fiercely. The reference confused Keith for a moment, but the moment she tried to walk away, he lunged for her, grabbing Belle by the upper arms and squeezing hard.

"No woman hits me, you bitch," he snarled, leaning in.

"Fine," she snapped, and slammed her knee into his groin. Hard. She poured all of her worry and her anger into the blow, and was rewarded by Keith dropping like a rock, swearing and sobbing. Soon enough, he was rolling around on the ground, and Belle looked down at him disgustedly. She finished: "I won't just hit you, then."

"You—you—" the words disappeared into another moan of pain, but Belle couldn't summon up a flicker of pity for him.

"You're an absolute Neanderthal, you know that?" she asked, moving a step back. "I wouldn't sleep with you if you were the last man on Earth. Oh, and by the way? Gold is ten times the man you are, even from his hospital bed."

With that, Belle turned and walked away, almost running into Emma Swan as she approached.

"Everything okay?" the sheriff asked, her gaze flickering to where Keith still lay moaning on the ground.

"Just fine, thank you," Belle replied, but of course Keith had to speak up.

"She hit me!" he wailed from the ground, still clutching helplessly at his crotch. "She—she assaulted a police officer!"

Belle hoped that his manhood fell off. He certainly wouldn't need it once the curse broke and he returned to his emasculated state, after all. Once, she'd yelled at Rumplestiltskin for that little spell, but now she rather thought it justified.

"I'm sure you deserved it," Emma replied, rolling her eyes and turning back to Belle. "You need a ride somewhere?"

Relief flooded through her. Belle hadn't been sure if Keith would try to chase her down or not, and he could afford to roll around on the ground for a while and still catch her in his truck before she got home. She smiled. "That would be wonderful, thank you."

"You bet. C'mon, my bug's this way," the blonde grinned at her, and then paused as they started to walk away together, throwing over her shoulder at Keith: "You're parked illegally, Keith. You'd better move that hunk of junk before I ticket you."

The ride home was surprisingly companionable.

Things had not gone according to plan, and there was no taking it back now.

Hanging up the phone with a snarl, Cora stood from her plush office chair and started to pace. Of course, she'd known that Moe French and Tony Rose had put 'Mr. Gold' in the hospital the night before, but she'd not received a detailed report on his condition until now. Nurse Zephyr had helpfully provided the mayor with all the details she could possibly desire, and none of them had been what Cora expected. She'd wanted bruises and broken ribs, wanted to teach Rumplestiltskin an important lesson in who possessed the power in Storybrooke. She hadn't wanted this! A broken leg, internal bleeding, and a disfiguring blow to his pretty face had not been what she wanted.

Not that having Rumple out of the picture was particularly onerous, but she was still furious. She wanted to beat him, to outplay him at his own favorite game. Putting him in the hospital for months utterly removed him from the equation, and the idiots' actions had actually put his life in danger. Back in the Enchanted Forest, everyone was able to take the Dark One's immortality for granted. Cora knew the one way to kill him, and a simple, if savage, beating would not do it. Here, however…here, he was human. And vulnerable. Cora grimaced.

She was going to miss hurting him, too. There was no way around that. Knowing he was awake made their sessions particularly delicious, and it also made Rumplestiltskin far less likely to stand against her when he knew the price of doing so. He thought he was a few steps ahead of her, but apparently he had forgotten that he'd told her—long ago—about his reasons for getting to the Land Without Magic. She'd known exactly why he'd written the Dark Curse when he gave it to her, even if Cora had pretended to forget. When it came to breaking the curse, or even the aftermath of that event happening, Rumplestiltskin was not the threat. She knew how to control him, both with the Dark Curse and without it.

But now he was out of play, and Cora was furious. There was nothing she could do about his condition, either; the Dark Curse could not help or heal injuries. It could only manipulate people and make them forget who they were, and both of those abilities were steadily dwindling. So, she could not call on the curse to make this right.

No, all she could do was make sure he had the finest care available, and move forward from there. No matter how angry it made her.

He'd stopped floating, but the pain was enough to make Rumplestiltskin want to ask any nurse but Chloe Zephyr for an increased morphine dose. He didn't want anything to do with Zelena, cursed or not. She was one of the last people he had expected to see in Storybrooke, and had she not stopped by again after his delirium had receded, he would have thought that he'd only imagined her face. Thankfully, her demeanor quickly confirmed that she was cursed; Cora might have let the pirate retain his memories, but she had not extended the same courtesy to her eldest daughter. Then again, Cora hadn't found Zelena particularly useful back in the Enchanted Forest, so although Rumplestiltskin was surprised to see her here, he wasn't at all shocked to see Zelena had received no special treatment.

But it wasn't her presence that made him resist the urge to hit the call button and ask for more drugs. No, it was the knowledge of how very much those painkillers addled his brain that stopped Rumplestiltskin. His greatest asset here in the Land Without Magic had always been his mind, and he could not afford to have it scrambled right now. As near as he could tell, he'd been in the hospital for around eighteen hours, and it was late afternoon. People kept showing up, kept asking questions, and that meant he needed to be able to use his brain. He couldn't start answering questions like a tripped-up Rumplestiltskin when he needed to be thinking like Gold. Even if Cora did know who he was, there were plenty of secrets he had no intention of letting slip. So, the need to think outweighed the need for less pain, and he resisted the very overwhelming desire to get his dose upped.

The amount of morphine already rolling through his system was enough to leave him a bit loopy, anyway. The fact that it wasn't nearly enough to blot out all the pain just left him cranky, too.

Doctor Whale's arrival did nothing to soothe either of those current personality quirks, particularly when he got past his summary of the injuries Belle's boorish father and idiot ex-fiancé had inflicted upon Rumplestiltskin and added: "There's something else I wanted to talk to you about."

"Such as?" Rumplestiltskin asked testily, feeling his face burn in response to speaking. Whale had just finished lecturing him on how he was actually lucky in how his cheekbone had broken; the fracture had been clean and none of the bones had jammed themselves into anything else, which meant it should heal without surgery.

Without more surgery, had already rooted around inside Rumplestiltskin with his uncouth 'medical' tools, and once of that was quite enough for his tastes, thank you very much. Just thinking of letting this doctor drug him into unconsciousness and then cut his insides open was not an appetizing thought. Particularly when he had already done it once without permission.

"You have some other injuries that I'd like to discuss. Ones clearly not caused by the attack, such as welts and—"

"I am aware of them, yes," he snapped, wincing as he spoke too quickly. But he didn't want to hear the details. His last night with Cora had only been two days ago, and it had been particularly vicious. She hadn't been careful at all, and the mayor had left far too many marks on his skin.

To his credit, Whale looked very uncomfortable, although Rumplestiltskin couldn't figure out if that discomfort was due to the subject matter or his own foul temper. "Mr. Gold, if someone is hurting you, there are ways to address that, and—"

"Oh, you poor dear, you look terrible," another voice interrupted Whale, and Rumplestiltskin would have rathered listen to Frankenstein go on about the injuries he certainly wasn't going to talk about than see her face. Unfortunately, however, Cora turned to the doctor with a patently false smile, saying: "Would you excuse us, please, Doctor? Mr. Gold and I have some things to discuss."

Even in his drugged up state, Rumplestiltskin could feel her pulling on the tendrils of the curse surrounding Doctor Whale, which meant that Frankenstein nodded stiffly and departed the room without anything more than a glare as argument. For his part, Rumplestiltskin could only sigh and watch Cora warily; there wasn't anywhere he could go. Hell, he could hardly even shift around on the bed with his leg in traction like this, not to mention his broken ribs and various other bruises. Seeing Cora just made everything feel worse. At least Belle isn't here right now, he thought, desperately wishing that she was. He wasn't a courageous man, and he didn't deal with pain well at all, and right now he just wanted his wife there, not this horrible woman who had spent so many years hurting him.

Cora waited for Whale to leave before sitting on the edge of the bed at his left side, right where Belle had been sitting that morning. "You really are a frightful mess, aren't you, Rumple?"

"You state the obvious with startling expertise," he replied as dryly as he could manage, trying not to wince in pain as the bed shifted due to her added weight. He didn't manage.

"And as cranky as ever." Reaching out, Cora made to brush hair out of his eyes, and it didn't seem worth the energy to stop her—until her fingers brushed his bandaged cheek, ever so slightly, and Rumplestiltskin let out a strangled whimper of pain.

"Keep your hands to yourself," he snarled, coughing as fiery fingers of agony danced across his vision.

"That's no way to talk to your lover," she purred, trying to take his left hand in her own.

Spitefully, Rumplestiltskin yanked away. At least his arms worked properly, even if his ribs burned in protest if he moved too quickly. "You're not my lover."

"And little Lacey is? Come now, Rumple, we both know that you have to be bored with her by now. Certainly the knight in shining armor routine is getting old?"

"I'm no hero," he growled, glaring at her. But the words came out slurred, ruining the effect. Never wanted to be one, either. Not even before, he thought. All I've ever wanted to do is protect my family. "As you well know."

"And that's always why I've been so found of you," she said directly, reaching for his hand once more. Yet again, Rumplestiltskin evaded her, his movements sluggish, causing a frown to crease Cora's perfectly made-up face. "Let me take your hand. Now."

Magic wrapped around him, harder than Rumplestiltskin anticipated, and he let out a soft whimper of pain. For a long and terrifying moment, his vision went white, and his mind went utterly blank, incoherent save for venomous fury whipping through him. He was in no condition to fight this; everything still hurt, and his ribs protested angrily as Cora gently took his hand and pulled it away from his body. The movement left him gasping for air and pushed the darkness back, but the mayor waited patiently for him to calm down before continuing:

"You have no one but yourself to blame for this one, you know. If you hadn't taken that girl in and made her do lord knows what for you, her father and fiancé would not have felt the need to take their worry and their anger out on you."

He gaped. Cora smiled thinly.

"I've always known that you were good at twisting things to fit your own warped ambitions, but that's really going a bit far, even for you," Rumplestiltskin rasped.

"How so?" she asked, cocking her head innocently.

It was the innocent look that confirmed his suspicions. Cora's previous remark had made him wonder, just a little, if she might have at least known the attack was coming, but the smile lurking in her eyes while she tried to look uninvolved sealed the deal. Although Rumplestiltskin was sure that his actions had served to egg Moe and Tony on, neither man was the type to lash out quite so energetically on their own. Not like this. Without proof he was hurting 'Lacey', both men would probably have continued to complain and harass Belle. But with Cora pulling their strings…

Oh, he was going to murder this bitch when the curse broke. With pleasure. Perhaps he would find her heart and torment her a bit with it before he did so. Even Belle was unlikely to stop him from doing that after everything had happened. That thought brought a vicious sneer to Rumplestiltskin's face, as did his curse's heated pleasure at the idea. The fog of drugs seemed to bury it a bit, or maybe the fog buried him a little and it was hard to tell his own thoughts from those of the curse. That last idea was more than a little frightening, but at the moment, Rumplestiltskin did not care to differentiate. He would deal with his own personal demon later. For now, he'd let it loose. Just a little.

"This was your doing, wasn't it, dearie?" And yes, his voice did grow rather high-pitched on that one.

You're going to kill her slowly, a voice that he finally recognized as the curse whispered seductively. It had been trying to take over his thoughts, managing to do so more thoroughly than it had in centuries. Cursing the drugs in his system, Rumplestiltskin pried his mind away from the curse bit by painful bit, focusing on the one way he'd learned could separate his soul from the demon: his love for his family. Slowly, he felt the curse retreat, howling furiously within his mind, even as Cora replied:

"Whatever gives you that idea?"

Rumplestiltskin snorted, relishing the pain because it was his, and not his curse's. "Because I know you, Cora. Always have."

"Well, I will admit that I might have thought a lesson was in order," she shrugged.

"For what?" he demanded.

"You, of course. I won't have you choosing some trollop over me, Rumplestiltskin. You refused me before, but you don't have that option now, do you?" Cora said softly, leaning over so that her face was inches from his.

Sweet smelling hair brushed against his chin as Rumplestiltskin snarled: "Your curse won't last forever."

"Won't it?"

"Overconfidence never did you any favors, my dear," he smiled. "If I were you, I'd start planning for the future, the one that comes after Eva's granddaughter breaks the curse. Assuming I let you have a future."

The taunt did not have the desired affect; chuckling, Cora leaned down to brush her lips over his, giving Rumplestiltskin a mysterious smile.

"Oh, Rumple. Defiant until the end. I do love that about you," she said softly. "We shall see what comes, and who has power over who."

She shifted to kiss his right cheek before Rumplestiltskin could reply, and his choked off whimper of pain filled his world, filling his vision with red and gold sparks. By the time he hauled himself back from the edge, Cora was gone.

A/N: Well, Rumplestiltskin's still in a bit of a tight spot, isn't he? Regina's now determined to find out what's going on, and Belle's getting worse at hiding who she is. How do you think this is going to work out?

Up next, Chapter 48: "Love and Misery", where Emma continues her investigation, Regina visits her old mentor with questions, Belle brings Renee by the hospital. Back in the past, Regina has a spat with her mother and Belle asks about the dagger.

Also, check out my tumblr (toseehowthestoryends) to see a sneak peak of FOTS48!