Disclaimer: As you can probably tell from the fact I'm rewriting seasons in fanfiction, I don't own Once Upon a Time or any of its characters.
Messenger birds were nothing new; crows, ravens, and owls were the most common fowl, though there was the odd pigeon or dove. Snow's bluebirds were iconic, and Belle remembered the time a seagull had crashed into the main hall's window.
None of them compared to the swan.
Belle was startled out of her book not by the doors swinging open or Rumple's angry muttering, but by a series of loud honks. She glanced up in time to see her husband twist around and try to shoo the bird away with his boot. It stretched its large wings out, drawing itself to its full height.
"Stop it." Hiss. "Go away!" Flapflapflap. "Go awaaaaaay!" Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiisssssssssssss.
She rolled her eyes and slid her bookmark into place, "A new pet follow you in, Rum?"
"There's a note, but I'm not losing any fingers trying to grab it," he whined, rubbing said fingers together.
She crossed the room, only slightly amused by the spectacle of Rumple side-stepping a pecking swan. It let her untie the ribbon around its neck and she unrolled the letter.
"To the Dark One," she began while the fowl tugged at the laces of Rumple's boots, "Your help is greatly needed. My wife is in mortal danger-"
"The usual, then?"
"Hush. The people have turned against her and she is now imprisoned in our own castle as they call for her death."
"There's probably a good reason."
"Save your snark for the end!" She hissed, "I was afraid to leave her alone lest something happen to her; there is a traitor in our midst who started this." Belle took a deep breath, "...We are unable to slip our sons to safety; this swan is our fastest messenger and the only way I can seek assistance. I will pay whatever price you ask...if you only save my true love."
She glanced up at her husband, who had stilled at the mention of children. He didn't seem to have noticed that the swan had worked both of the knots loose and was now trying to yank one of the laces out of his left boot.
"...why does the name Derek ring a bell?" She asked.
He shook his head, yanking his leg away from the bird, "Derek's not that uncommon a name, dear, even for royalty."
Belle eyed the aggressive messenger and then realized who she was thinking of, "Odette was betrothed to a Prince Derek... I think she said something about it being practically from birth. Do you think it could be her?"
"Possibly."
She tilted her head as a memory surfaced, "...she called upon you years ago, on All Hallow's Eve at Winter's Pass Finishing Academy. She had every intention of making a deal with you."
Rumplestiltskin considered, "...a tiny angry thin thing with long flowing blonde locks and big blue eyes that could cut through steel? Almost too pretty, like she came out of a painting?"
"Sounds like her."
"Eh, I showed up, but she had nothing to offer me," he pursed his lips, "...I thought I heard she killed herself."
"I think that was just a rumor," Belle insisted, folding the letter up, "Well I'm curious about this; you can stay home if you don't think anything interesting will come of it."
"I doubt it will, but you have fun catching up." He waved dismissively at the swan, "And take that thing with you!"
The swan was the recognized symbol of the small northern kingdom of Votkinsk. It was a fair assumption this was where the messenger had flown from and, when Belle arrived, she could see it was obviously a correct one. Crowds surrounded the castle, hoisting defaced banners where the normally pure white swan sigil was painted black. An effigy of a swan was burning in the midst of the courtyard and the palace guards were doing their best to calm the multitudes of citizens crying for blood. As Belle observed them she heard claims of witchcraft and sorcery, accusations that the queen had given herself over to the dark arts. No one really seemed to be aware of specifics but were convinced that Odette was a traitor to their king and dangerous.
Honestly Belle wished mobs would get more creative. Vague suspicions weren't worth all this fuss.
She entered the castle, finding the halls practically empty; the servants were either hiding or trying to help keep the crowds from leaking inside. She didn't see a soul until she came upon the private chambers of the royal family, three men standing guard. They drew their swords and Belle sighed.
"Is this how you greet guests?" She ignored them, only stopping when one set the sword against her shoulder. She glared at him, "Your king sent me a message, something about "help, my wife, please save her"?"
The door opened and a tall brunette stood in front of her, the very definition of grim as he sized her up, "You aren't..."
"The Dark One, no, unfortunately you're going to have to settle. May I come in?" He hesitated before stepping aside and letting Belle enter.
They were guarding a nursery, she realized as she took in a small bed and bassinet, a collection of toys tucked into the corner. She almost didn't notice Odette in the corner, but then she heard a sniffle and spotted a young boy clinging to his mother's leg. She rocked an infant in her arms with the slow smooth sways of a dancer, staring at a point on the wall. Odette both was completely different and eerily the same as Belle remembered her; age had hardly changed her unnatural beauty, but her demeanor was... Off.
She turned as Belle approached, eyes bright with fear and hope. She reached down and stroked the older boy's hair, "You came."
"Yes." Belle wanted to add something, a sentiment to assure her, but none came.
Odette moved to the other side of the room. She laid the infant down with tender care inside the bassinet, kissing his brow. Her other son fussed and Odette went to tuck him into the bed, reassuring him as he refused to go down as easily as his brother. The brunette man, who must have been Derek, came to help and eventually the child succumbed.
The pair rejoined Belle, Derek hovering protectively by his wife's side.
"Thank you for coming," Odette murmured, "I'm sure people write you every day asking for your help."
"More like every other," she tried to joke, "But I figured since we went to school together... I know we were never close, Odette, but-"
"No."
Derek rested his hand on her shoulder, "Darling..."
She reached back and set her hand over his, taking a deep breath, "It's too late, Derek; the truth is out. I'm sick of having to hide anyway." She looked Belle in the eye, straightening her shoulders, "...I am not Odette. My name...is Odile."
III
As a captain Hook could sense a shift in tide; when he heard Belle talking a little too much below deck, he suspected she wasn't just chatting up the image of the crocodile. He wasn't sure what sort of spell Cora had put the giant under but he was reasonably sure it wasn't a full-on sleeping curse...
When he went to check on her she was completely focused on the mirror. It was showing the crocodile getting rather friendly with Cora in a shop, with a counter thankfully between them.
"Still hasn't figured it out yet, has he?"
"He's distracted," she seethed, pacing to the back of her cage. Hook followed her, moving between the two prison cells and watching her curiously.
"Honestly, you know what he's done, what he continues to do. He murdered his first wife in cold blood. How could you forgive him?" He hated how strained his voice sounded, as if he were talking about something more than the death of his beloved.
Belle considered him for a moment, softening ever so slightly.
"I forgive him because I love him. Because his sins aren't all of who he is, and because continuing to hold on to anger and bitterness will only poison us both. I knew who I was marrying when I took my vows and believe it or not, I'm not perfect either!" She moved towards the bars, one hand resting on the metal, "Milah wouldn't want this for you," she murmured.
How. DARE. She.
Hook lunged for her but she was ready for it, her other arm shoving him back. He stumbled, bracing himself against the other cage.
"Anton, now!"
He saw two large hands grab him by the side of the head, and the pain of having his skull smack against the steel was soon remedied by unconsciousness.
Belle only felt slightly guilty for her deception; it was nothing compared to the hell she was going to give Cora after she pried Rumple away from her clutches.
"Try to push him towards me..." She encouraged Anton, "That's good."
She pulled the pirate up to the bars, searching his pockets with the same eagerness as someone moving a rotting corpse. Her efforts were rewarded when she found the pair of keys that HAD to go to their cages.
"What if she comes back?" Anton asked as she tried one of the keys on the lock of her cell. No luck.
"She's clearly busy right now," she nodded towards the mirror, " The shop's not far from the docks but we'll need to move fast; slip in and get his attention without her knowing."
The next key clicked and her door swung open. Belle stepped out, crossing quickly to Anton and freeing him from his prison.
"How is he going to know it's you, though?" He asked, gingerly stepping over Hook.
"That'll be the easy part," she assured him, taking the steps two at a time as they made their way above deck, "I have ways of distinguishing myself that would put Andy's toys to shame."
As usual, Mr. Gold had taken the coward's way out. He hadn't confronted Belle; he had worked through the night instead. And, for once, it had worked out. He was almost certain he had found the answer to the question of how to get over the town line. Of course his resources were slim to none, so he could only make enough for two items to be enchanted...
...if he tested it on himself. It wasn't something he was keen on but he was as close to certain that it would work as he was capable of being.
"What's wrong? Why couldn't you tell me over the phone?"
He smiled as she came in, brow furrowed in concern. It was adorable and admittedly, it was nice to see her care. He leaned slightly forward as she approached the counter.
"...I did it," he breathed, beaming at her, "I can leave."
Belle gave a tentative smile, "Leave, like...cross the town line?"
"Exactly. I've mixed a potion that if I pour it over the object I hold most dear, it will act as a talisman and it'll allow me to cross the town line with my memories intact." He reached out and took her hand, "There's enough for both of us... If I test it on myself."
Her smile wavered, "You...don't know if it'll work?"
"I'm almost positive, Belle. We could go to the town line tonight, be out of here tomorrow..." He squeezed her hand, "...and start trying to find our boy."
He searched her face, trying to figure out what she was thinking. But she was being careful not to let whatever was running through her head show. Back to shutting him out.
"It'll be alright," he promised, "You'll be there to bring me back if it fails. I trust you... Just like I trusted you to come home."
This didn't seem to ease her mind in the slightest, "...I guess I should go home and pack, then."
"And think about your talisman, alright?" He smirked, "If it's a book, we might have to figure out a harness to strap it to you." She graced him with a small smile.
The moment was ruined by his cell phone going off. He gave her an apologetic look before going to answer it.
"Who is this?"
"The Storybrooke Animal Shelter." A woman answered, nonplussed by his tone, "We tried calling your other numbers but weren't getting through."
"Why would you need to get ahold of me?"
Belle gave him a small wave before walking right back out. He could almost count by minutes how much time he had had with his wife lately.
"We found your cat out by the town line, Figaro?"
"He's my wife's," he insisted reflexively, scowling at her vanishing and therefore leaving him to deal with this. Yes of course! She had said when he asked her about taking care of the cat. He should've known better. "...I suppose you'll want me to pick him up?"
"That's usually the hope," she said dryly.
For the briefest moment he considered just leaving the cat there until Belle wondered where he went to... But the little ratcatcher had somehow weaseled his way into his own affections.
"I'll be right there," he muttered, hanging up and going about locking up the shop.
III
After the words left her lips, Odette...or Odile, smiled as though she had finally set down a heavy burden.
"I'm Odile," she repeated with a soft laugh, "Not Odette...Odile." Derek clasped her hand tightly, glancing around as though the confession itself would cause their enemies to break through.
Belle tried to process the new information, "Then where is Odette?" She asked.
Odile ran her fingers through her hair, "It's a long story...a long complicated story..."
"The best ones always are," Belle said.
Odile glanced at Derek, who squeezed her hand reassuringly. She turned back to Belle, her voice slowly gaining its confidence back.
"I wasn't born...human. I used to be a swan... Grew up as a familiar to a powerful sorceror."
"A familiar?" Belle echoed, her brow furrowing.
She smiled sheepishly, "I suppose it's old fashioned, but so is he. I've heard it used to be fairly common for young animals of above average intelligence to bond to a magician. Their primary purpose is companionship, but a lot of people started assuming that they were some sort of demonic aids."
"A fair enough assumption when you take into account the sorts of magicians that had familiars," Derek murmured.
Odile rolled her eyes, "Dark practitioners tend to be a bit more flamboyant about their abilities... No offense."
"None taken," Belle assured her, "I just married into it."
Speaking of Rumple, now she had something to bug him about once she got home...
Her eyes went distant, fixating on a spot as if rewatching the scene, "I found Odette... And I went to get my master. He wanted to help her, but she didn't want help. She didn't want her life anymore...so I offered to trade. I always wanted to be human..."
Belle had never thought much about Odette's words; she herself had said similar things about wanting anything besides the life in front of her, especially after becoming engaged to Gaston. But if Odile was eluding to what Belle thought she was eluding to...
"It must be years since the switch, though. How could you maintain it?"
Odile glanced back at her husband, who wrapped an arm around her waist, looking exceedingly guilty.
"Odette and I were betrothed since birth..." He began, more stilted than Odile, "Spent every summer together. Our parents thought we were just being kids, that we'd grow out of it... But we really couldn't stand each other. Then it was time to announce our engagement officially. I dreaded it but... She had changed. She was...excited, and happy, and positive. I fell in love that night... I just didn't realize that she was literally another person." His eyes met Belle's, pleading, "I didn't know that Odette was so miserable that she'd try anything... If I knew how to help her, I would have."
"I believe you," she assured him, mulling it over, "So then someone overheard you using the wrong name and made assumptions?"
"That's all we can come up with," Odile shrugged, "Besides you now, the only other people who know about this are Derek and Odette, and not a lot of people speak swan."
"There's your former master, the magician," Belle pointed out.
Odile laughed, "Oh yes, quite the gossiper, that hermit... I think I'm the only living person he talks to, and I haven't visited him in months."
"He's been in exile for decades," Derek added, "He probably has no idea what's going on right now."
"Good," Odile snapped, "If all goes well he doesn't have to. You know how protective he gets, and we don't need him slaughtering the capital in a rage."
Derek frowned, sizing Belle up, "...what is this going to cost?"
"It's difficult to give an estimate right now," she said, " There's a chance this could settle down on its own, but if I have to subdue the majority of a city... That's going to start getting pricey."
"Any price is worth my love's safety," Derek insisted, to Odile's chagrin.
She glanced over her shoulder, back towards her sleeping sons, "No... Any price is worth their safety."
It was hard to imagine anyone going after her, regardless if there was dark magic involved.
Belle returned home for the evening and to fill Rumple in on what was going on in Votkinsk. He seemed doubtful of her explanation of how Odile came to be Odette, but his energy was soon diverted to making sure Belle's questions about familiars didn't turn into a hunt to find one for her.
She returned the next day to a nearly empty courtyard; the only individuals around going about their business instead of trying to continue an uprising. Belle hurried inside the castle only to find the same security measures in place. The guards only hesitated a moment before letting her inside. Odile and Derek glanced up, their youngest in his arms and their oldest playing with his toys next to his kneeling mother.
"There are no protests," Belle announced, "Hardly anyone's out there, and I don't think they just went home."
Odile's face lost its color, "...they're going after him."
She sprang up from her seat so fast Belle hardly had time to react. Derek grabbed her before she could go very far.
"You have to help him!" She begged, her eyes animalistically wild, "Please, you have to save Rothbart!"
The very name sounded sinister, but how could Belle turn the queen down when she was close to tears?
III
She tried to be patient, she really did, but she still found herself having to double back to stay close to Anton. She could practically see the shop from the docks, and could practically feel her husband's arms around her, albeit after wondering how he was seeing her in two places at once. Anton, to his credit, was doing his best to hurry along.
"I think this is the first time I've ever wanted to be big," he huffed. Belle patted his shoulder reassuringly before jogging up to the side of the building.
She didn't think to check for the Cadillac before she went for the back door. The handle didn't yield when she turned it. She sighed.
"Now's not the time for you to keep this locked, Rumple," she muttered.
Anton went to peer through the window, "No one's in there... Not your husband, not Cora."
"Really?" She glanced through the door's window but no, if they weren't in the front or the back... "Well then, this just got a little more complicated."
"What now?" He asked, frowning, "If we didn't run into her coming back to the ship, she could be anywhere."
"Yes, but fortunately Rumplestiltskin's a little more predictable. If he's not here he'll most likely be home," she looked him up and down, "I don't want you ending up a casualty... I can find somewhere for you to stay, people to look after you."
"But I want to help," he insisted.
She smoothed a stray strand of his hair back, "You will be helping, by giving me one less thing to worry about. Are you hungry? I know a place that makes a great burger."
Mr. Gold was glad to see that he wasn't the only one who thought he looked out of place at the Storybrooke Pet Shelter . Adults in the waiting area glanced warily towards him while the children openly gaped. He ignored them, checking in at the front and then standing nearby as he waited. The staff returned with a rather defeated-looking tom cat, limp in her arms and staring blankly ahead. He started to animate as he spotted his substitute master, squirming in her grasp.
"He was a perfect gentleman," she insisted, holding him out towards Mr. Gold.
He made no move to take him, "Just set him on the ground, he's got four good legs."
It earned him a look but she did as he asked. The cat padded over to him and glanced up.
"Now what exactly were you doing at the town line?" He asked.
Figaro let out an insistent mewl and then continued towards the door. He rolled his eyes and followed the furball, ignoring how the stares had become disbelieving. If he wanted to talk to a cat that was his right; for all they knew he used to be human.
He went for the car, glancing to see if it'd get the hint when he opened the passenger's door. But no, the cat was staring down the street, his tail whipping from side to side.
"Cat." He ignored him and Mr. Gold went to shepherd him with his cane. The thing let out a long unbroken yowl of protest the whole way to the passenger's seat, "Yeah, yeah, save it for someone who cares."
When he slid into his own seat, he felt the penetrating stare of two yellow eyes. He glanced down and met the feline's gaze. He cried out again, more urgent, and Mr. Gold humored the idea of him desperately trying to communicate something. But then he remembered this was the beast that gave the same wail whenever Belle took too long in the bathroom.
"We're going home, alright? Maybe you're just hungry."
He hissed and circled around, going to stand and stare out the window. The thing was already trembling in anticipation of the car's movement but he took his post like a scout trying to spot a lost ally.
Everything was going according to Cora's plan; Rumple would be leaving town soon, Regina was starting to warm back up to her, and she had an ace up her sleeve. Two, she supposed, if she counted the giant... He'd be good if she needed another diversion.
She glanced around, making sure no one was watching her step off the edge of the pier and onto supposedly thin air. There wasn't a soul around though and she made her way up the ramp, her Belle glamour fading. The pirate wasn't idling around sharpening his hook or whatever, and she immediately felt uneasy.
For good reason, as it turned out. When she went below deck she found him passed out and both cages empty. Unfortunately letting him live still had more pros than cons, and Cora had never been one for tossing useful things away. He'd pay for this, to be sure, but until her plan came full circle she had to keep him around for a red herring and convenient scapegoat.
She sighed and turned right back around. As usual if she wanted something done right, she'd have to do it herself.
III
Even with careful directions, Belle had a hard time finding the Haunted Castle. Deep in a forest obscured by mountains, it felt nearly as isolated as the Dark Castle. A wide, still lake spread out in front of a dilapidated fortress, too neglected to be anything but abandoned. She stepped across the threshold of the palace expecting to either be stopped by magic or trigger some sort of booby trap. Neither happened and Belle continued forward.
She entered into a vast emptiness that might've once been a ballroom. There were no tapestries or paintings on the wall; no statues or even furniture. Maybe she had gotten lost.
"Hello?" The question was met with a threatening hiss, "…Rothbart?"
It wasn't so funny when she was the one being attacked.
She heard the flap of wings before she felt them hitting her. She covered her face as the flash of white started pecking at her, driving her back towards the entrance. Belle stumbled, trying to wave it off. It honked in her ear.
"Enough, Odette."
The swan circled back and landed nearby, continuing to glare at Belle. She smoothed her dress, glaring back at the bird, before looking up to the origins of the voice. A man was on the second story, leaning against the precarious railing and not looking particularly pleased to see company.
"What do you want?" He asked.
"Odile sent me," she said, "She thinks you could be in danger."
He snorted derisively, then gestured for her to come up. Odette didn't need to be asked twice; she flew up to follow after her master, glancing over her shoulder to be sure Belle had gotten the message. Belle took a moment to find the staircase, and neither of them waited for her.
She glanced into several rooms before finding the one they had disappeared into, an apothecary of study. Notebooks, sheets, pens, and folders littered the shelves and tables, as organized as a hurricane's aftermath. Runes, some she could recognize and others completely foreign, decorated the floors, walls, and the occasional table. A fireplace was at the far side, but there were no logs or ash. Actually she was pretty sure she saw a hole in the stone where a fire WOULD go…
"So what kind of "danger" does Odile feel I'm in?"
She turned and realized just how tall Rothbart was; over six feet, as lean as a blade of grass. Long dark red hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, brown eyes sharp as the rest of his features.
"The secret's out that she's not Odette," Belle explained, " She's afraid the kingdom will come after you because of your involvement."
Odette straightened from her seat at the windowsill, getting to her feet. Rothbart frowned, "Is she alright?"
"Now she is, but that's because it looks like they're gathering their torches and pitchforks for you."
The concern vanished, "Oh, so then nothing new."
A flash came from the fireplace, gone as soon as Belle noticed it. An envelope drifted in its wake, floating for a minute before sliding onto the floor. Odette waddled over to it and picked it up in her beak, going over to her master.
"You've dealt with an entire kingdom coming after you?"
"No, but they did chase me out of one." He tore open the envelope, tossing it aside as he unfolded the letter.
Belle arched an eyebrow, "Odile didn't mention what you were apparently sent into exile over..."
His nose wrinkled as he read the letter, "People get a little touchy when they learn you can raise the dead. By the way, your mother says hello, she loves you, she's proud of you, you get the drift."
The sudden change of topic, as well as what it had been changed to, completely threw her for a loop. It was the sort of thing Rumple would do, drop a piece of personal information just to mess with whoever he was dealing with. There was no pompous smirk suggesting that was the case; his expression was completely stoic.
"What?"
"Here," he passed off the letter to her.
Belle scanned it and her heart lurched. It was her mother's handwriting... It had been ages since she had last seen it but she knew it by heart, how tight the letters were spaced, how the "i"s weren't dotted but slashed.
My dearest Belle,
I hope this letter goes through; the mailing system down here is notoriously spotty. But I saw that you were on your way to a necromancer, so I knew I had to try. I'm sure this will only bring more questions than answers; one day (hopefully not soon) we'll have the time to sit down and discuss everything.
For now, I need you to know that I am proud of the woman you've become. You might find that hard to believe given the choices you've made... But I know you've done what you have with the best intentions. A candle is useless in the light, as I've always told you. I just hope the darkness doesn't consume you as you continue deeper into it.
I love you with all my heart. Never lose hope.
-Mother
Disbelief and grief raged through Belle. It was far too specific to claim he had just made it up, but what other explanation was there? Which made more sense, magic or…or something else?
Odette took Belle's silence as an insult and drew herself up, her feathers rising as she hissed. Rothbart put a hand on her head, pushing it down lightly.
"Settle, Odette," he said, his face carefully uncaring, "It's not as though you would've just accepted it if I hadn't brought you back as a fancy goose." She nipped at his hand but he quickly pulled away, expecting it.
"Dead is dead," Belle repeated what she had heard since her mother's passing. It was a reflexive phrase, warding off any hope of a return from whatever happened after the last heartbeat.
"Not to me," he said dismissively. He made a shooing gesture, "You've given your message, and I've given you yours. If the angry mob finds me I'll deal with them."
"You can't possibly-"
"I have no interest in explaining myself to you," he cut her off, "I am not a morbid fascination, and what I do isn't for gawking over."
"I'm not gawking!" She bristled, "I'm not some laywoman that was picked off the street. I am the Dark One's wife." The accreditation slipped out without her even consciously realizing it. She would have been embarrassed if he didn't look so amused. Odette let out a loud honk that sounded like an obnoxious "HA!".
"That might have weight in most circles," Rothbart acknowledged, "But not here. What I do is past dark arts; I don't just defy nature, I spit in its face. And you seem to carry his opinions on the impossibility of my reality."
"I've just never heard of necromancy being more than a myth."
"I'm the only current case I know of." He turned away from her, moving towards the window, "You should leave before they get here."
"And if you need help?"
"I'll get it."
Odette moved towards her, threatening to peck at her shins. Belle danced back but the bird didn't relent until she was all the way to the stairs. Finally she turned around, huffing.
"Fine, I'm leaving, you don't have to show me out." Odette hissed anyway and Belle was starting to feel less sorry for the former princess.
If they wanted to face the vast majority of Votkinsk on their own, she wouldn't press. She'd just have to go back and tell Odile there was nothing she could do.
She had skirted the lake before she saw the cliched halo of torches on the other side; a decent group considering how far they had traveled. She was tempted to continue on her way, leave Rothbart and Odette to whatever plan they had in place for a mob, but her curiosity and concern got the better of her. She stood and watched as they neared the Haunted Castle, their voices growing louder the closer they got to the doorstep. The leaders had just stepped onto the stairs when a blur of white shot towards them. The cries alone told her exactly what was attacking them, and she didn't question how a single bird could successfully beat back an entire mob.
"Odette!"
The swan pulled up and circled back to Rothbart, who had donned a black cloak. The hood hid his face, and the scythe in his right hand didn't make him seem particularly approachable. He spoke to them, too soft for Belle to hear so far away, and they replied harshly. Maybe it was because his face was obscured, but he didn't seem the least bit phased by their threats.
One of the leaders stepped forward, baring a sword. Rothbart's scythe swung forward, striking the ground between the villager's feet. He carved a line in the earth, a line that glowed a milky silver as it was formed. The mob retreated a few steps, but it didn't seem like there was any consequence to the odd bit of magic.
Then the trees started to sway. The bushes rustled, and the lake's water rippled. Woodland creatures started to emerge; birds, squirrels, rabbits, all approaching the group with the open curiosity of children. The people screamed, scrambling over each other in their hurry to escape the wildlife. Belle squinted but couldn't tell why they were reacting in such horror.
The slosh of something moving through the water caused her to turn her head. At first she couldn't even recognize what was meandering to the shore; it was covered in silt and algae. Little more than a frame, it lumbered onto dry land with two and a half legs, turning its skull towards Belle.
The skeleton was so decomposed she had no idea if it was a horse or a deer staring eyelessly at her. Her shock gave way to fear but the creature turned away, continuing awkwardly towards the commotion. A skunk waddled past her and she might have been relieved at the sight if its fur wasn't colored with dried blood.
The mob had predictably fled and she saw that the hooded reaper had turned towards her direction, watching for her reaction. He rested the scythe on his shoulder and Odette stood beside him, probably amused that her master had proven the Caretaker wrong. He gave a wave, dismissing the army he had summoned, and they went back to their resting places. He gave a second one to Belle, and then went back into his castle as if he hadn't just twisted the laws of nature onto its head.
She didn't visit him again. She didn't tell her husband what she had witnessed. And the trouble in Votkinsk cleared up without anymore of her involvement.
III
A hysterical giggle threatened to spill out of Belle. Here she was, holding hands with a giant, playing Mission Impossible down Main Street. Darting across alleyways, peeking around corners to make sure no one was around before rushing to the next bit of cover. She was terrified of seeing herself, and once even jumped at the sight of her reflection. She just had to get home; he HAD to be there.
First though… She slipped through the back door of the diner and took a sharp left into the laundry room. Anton turned to gaze wistfully at the hallway.
"What's that smell?" He whimpered.
"French fries," she said, "Little fried sticks of potato… They're really good."
She had been hoping that no one would be in there but Grumpy was, scrubbing fruitlessly at a fresh coffee stain. He glanced up and scowled.
"What are you doing here, sister? Needing to make a lunch run for your buddy the Evil Queen?"
She shook her head, not even bothering to ask why Regina was her buddy, "I just need to talk to Granny about getting Anton a room."
The dwarf glanced sideways at the giant, "…where'd you come from?"
"The Enchanted Forest?" Anton offered nervously.
"You don't seem very sure of that."
Grumpy turned back to Belle, who shrugged dismissively, "He's new. We picked him up on our way back from our unexpected trip."
"Snow didn't mention anything about extra passengers."
He squared his shoulders, taking a few steps towards her. Anton went to move in front of her but she put a hand on his arm to keep him back. He may have changed from the dwarf she had met in the tavern, but Dreamy was still deep down inside of him. And hopefully that part of him meant he wasn't about to try assaulting her.
"Maybe everybody else is happy to just turn their heads and ignore what happened but I sure ain't. You let the Evil Queen escape after she tried to kill Emma!"
She sighed, feeling like she should clarify, but she knew she didn't have the time, "I had my reasons."
"Doesn't make 'em good ones."
Like clockwork, Granny appeared before any true trouble could start, arms crossed and frowning. She glanced at Grumpy, then at Belle, then sized up Anton.
"What's all this about, then?" She asked.
"Granny, this is Anton. He's fresh from the Enchanted Forest and needs a place to stay."
Alarmingly, Granny focused on her instead of the stranger. She met her gaze, determined to stand her ground. Her first priority was making sure Anton was going to be safe, then she'd start cleaning up Cora's mess.
"You slept in those clothes," Granny said.
Belle smoothed her shirt self-consciously, "Does it look like that?"
Anton glanced at her, frowning, "Shouldn't we...?"
"No," she cut him off, her tone a little too sharp. Grumpy's brow furrowed and Granny's nose wrinkled suspiciously. Belle paused before continuing, "Could you please give him a room, and let him order whatever he'd like from the diner? Just open a tab under my name, you know I'm good for it."
"Yes..." She admitted, drawing out the single syllable, "Grumpy, go on and show him to a booth. "
The dwarf looked like he was going to protest but huffed, rolling his shoulder to demonstrate which direction they were heading, "Alright, c'mon. We got a whole menu to explain..."
Anton hesitated, watching Belle, "Are you going to be alright?" He asked.
She forced a smile, "I'll be fine," she insisted, reaching up and squeezing his shoulder, "I'll see you when everything's sorted out, alright? Have a hamburger for me."
Her sweet protective friend still balked, glancing at Granny as if he knew the wolf that lurked within her. But eventually he followed Grumpy outside of the laundry room, and she faced Widow Lucas.
"I don't know Belle very well..." She confessed, "Mostly just heard things. But Rose came in here every morning for twenty-eight years... And I like to think you still have that honesty."
"Rose hid a lot of things," Belle said, unable to let it slide. She didn't like remembering Rose; if it hadn't taken up so much of her life she would ignore her altogether.
"She did a much better job of it," she frowned, looking harder at Belle, "…are you in trouble?"
"No." The lie was becoming easier the more she practiced it, "I just need to make sure Anton has a place to stay, and after the sleepover fiasco I don't think I'm allowed to ever have overnight guests again."
This didn't even earn a smirk from Granny. She remained stone-faced as she considered her, "…I'll make sure he's taken care of. You just tell your husband that this makes us even."
"Thank you," she said, wondering what on earth had happened between her and Rumple while she had been gone. Granny had never struck her as the type to make a deal with the proverbial devil... Hopefully Ruby was alright.
With that taken care of she crept back into the alley, feeling even more exposed without Anton. She wouldn't be alone for long, though, she reminded herself. The thought moved her to a slow jog, still glancing around every corner. It's going to be okay, Rumple, she thought, I just need to get to you and everything will be alright.
Maybe it was because she was in stealth mode, but Belle didn't approach the front door; she moved around to the backyard's gate. She eased it open but even with that slight sound she was detected.
"Mrowr?"
Her head whipped to the side and the sight of her cat made her choke out a relieved hiccup of a noise, "Oh Figgy...oh my sweet boy." His tail swished skeptically and she knelt down, offering her hand towards him, "It's me... It's mama... Oh gods, Figgy..."
He moved closer, craning his neck to sniff at her fingers. His mewl was deafening, and she just had enough time to catch him as he jumped up. He rubbed himself against her and she laughed, squeezing him tightly.
"I missed you too, buddy... More than you can ever imagine. Was he mean to you?"
She wasn't sure if his purring was a "no", or if he was so happy to see her he had moved past whatever abuse he had suffered at Rumple's hands.
She straightened, holding him close as she went to slip in through the back door. He had to be upstairs packing; it was a wonder he hadn't already left Storybrooke in a cloud of dust. She smiled, imagining his face when he turned around to see her. Well, she had technically been here for a day, but she would quickly smooth everything over. She'd reassure him it had all been a lie, that she wasn't withdrawing and everything was going to be alright.
Figaro tensed in her arms and when Belle turned into the foyer she nearly ran into herself. Her heart plummeted through the floorboards at her disgusted reflection.
"I thought you were supposed to be smart," Cora said, "Even if you had miraculously gotten to him, it's not like you could speak to him. Put that thing down; I need to put you somewhere you won't cause any trouble until I want you to."
She was bending over and putting Figaro down before she even consciously thought about it. Cora was right, though... She had been foolish to think it would be so easy as one escape attempt. And now she had blown her best chance.
Mr. Gold had gone straight home from the vet's and tried feeding and watering the cat. It wasn't having it though and finally he just let him run around in the garden. Why hadn't cursed Geppetto been a sheep farmer? He would've loved a little lamb...
He heard something through the ceiling and was reminded Belle was up there packing. Despite the nagging voice in his head to give her space, he gravitated towards the stairs and went up to their bedroom.
She was just closing the suitcase as he came to the doorway, turning around to face him and giving him a small smile.
"So I just picked up your cat," he said, a softer edge to his words than he normally used when joking with her, "Want to guess where he ended up?"
"No idea," she said flippantly, "Where was he?"
"Animal shelter. Apparently he wanted a head start on getting out of town."
He took a few tentative steps towards her, wanting to embrace her, take her hands, really any sort of contact. But in his hypersensitive state, he noticed her shift back, her slight disapproving frown… He shouldn't push it.
"We're so close, Belle," he said, "We test this tonight, leave in the morning… We could be in the same city as him in twenty-four hours. We're so close."
"I know," she murmured, a sadness he didn't want to decipher flitting across her face.
He smiled, "And I've got a surprise for you once we get going."
"Oh do you?"
"Mmhm. If you liked our first anniversary vacation you're going to like this… No abduction or unveiling of dark secrets though."
"What a pity. I'll see you tonight, then."
Was she…dismissing him? She didn't seem angry, maybe a little annoyed… Maybe she was being short with him because she had a surprise of her own. Maybe her distance was a severely misguided attempt at hiding it?
…did Belle have a secret?
She turned back to the suitcase, offering no room for further conversation.
"See you tonight," he mumbled and left.
He desperately tried to drown his thoughts in preparation, packing and unpacking and packing again as he wondered what he should or shouldn't bring. He should let Belle know that they should leave the dagger behind; it might bring its magic past the border, and Bae needed no reminders of it. Where to hide it though? What if it was found?
Every item he weighed heavily on the scale of necessity. He wanted to pack light, but not too light. He wanted to be prepared, but not dragged down. And anything with magic had the potential to fail to work, or anger his son.
Finally, he had made his decisions. He'd pack his clothes and toiletries tonight, after the experiment. And, if everything went well…
…he'd finally be able to leave Storybrooke and look for his precious boy after all this time.
He closed the shop with shaky hands and went to pick Belle up from the house. There wasn't much talk as they drove towards the town line, and when he parked and turned the engine off he made no move to get out of the car.
"Belle, before we do this…"
"Nothing's going to happen to you," she cut him off, "You know what you're doing."
He held a hand up dismissively, "Please. I just need to get this off my chest...in case. I know I'm a difficult man to love... And yet you've stayed. You've seen my ugliness and never shied away from it." He took her hand and squeezed it, "I can count on a single hand the number of people who have loved me unconditionally in my life… You're one, and with your help I'm going to find the other."
Belle slid her hand out of his grasp and opened her door. Slightly disappointed by the casual reception of his heartfelt words, he stepped out as well.
He approached the neon spray-painted line with the same respectful wariness he'd approach a grazing hippogriff, clutching his son's old shawl like the lifeline it was about to become. He glanced at Belle before pulling the potion from his pocket, sprinkling half of the vial over the wool. It glowed briefly before the magic soaked in, and he carefully put the stopper back.
"Here," Belle murmured, gently moving to take the shawl from him. He hesitated briefly but let it slip through his fingers.
She raised her arms slightly and, seeing what she was intending to do, he bent forward. She wound the shawl around his neck with the reverence of a Catholic ceremony, resting her hands on his shoulders as if willing it to stay in place. He straightened and gave her a nervous smile.
"Here we go," he breathed.
"Here we go," she echoed, her hands falling back to her sides.
He stepped away from her, forcing himself to stride towards the border. No stupid line on the asphalt was going to keep him back any longer. He focused on the horizon, ignoring the ground until he had officially left Storybrooke.
A wave washed over him, drawing at his person as it tried to steal away his memories. He closed his eyes and waited it out. His son was Baelfire, his wife was Belle, his name was-
He opened his eyes and slowly turned around to see her watching him.
"…Rumple?" She asked.
He thought for one cruel moment about lying, but his smile gave him away, "Belle."
She gave a small huff of relief, smiling and moving forward. He drew closer, a warning hand coming up to keep her from doing anything rash. The last thing he needed was for her to revert to Rose because she did something as silly as try to hug him over the line.
"It worked," she said, "Now you can go find your son."
"We can go find our son," he corrected her.
She shook her head sadly, "No, Rumple… You can go find him."
His smile vanished as he felt as though he had been hit in the gut, "…what?"
"I'm not going with you. I'm staying right here."
"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped, "You've been a part of this since the night I rescued you from Regina. You've done everything you could do to help me make this happen, of course you're coming on the last leg of the trip!"
"I'm not."
"Why?!" His voice was climbing, the fear crawling out from where he had tried to keep it locked up, "What is going on?!"
"Nothing's going on," she said, devoid of emotion, "It just doesn't make any sense for me to tag along, does it?"
"What are you talking about? You love him! You told me you love him before you've ever met him! He's our son!"
"No, Rumplestiltskin, he's not my son. Just yours."
Her words ripped through him like a bullet and he stumbled back. Belle had dismissed the most important person in his life, the reason he had become the Dark One, the reason he had created the dark curse… And she knew it. And she stood there, as unaffected as if she had told him she wasn't going to do the dishes tonight, it was his turn.
This wasn't Belle. This wasn't his wife, the woman he loved.
Headlights flooded the road, coming from the wrong direction. He twisted around to see a car coming straight for them, unaware of their presence. He immediately grabbed Belle, rolling them both out of the way as the car barreled past, skidding, sliding, and finally crashing into a nearby tree. Belle craned her neck, trying to look past him to see what the hell had just happened.
When she looked up, Rumple was snarling down at her.
"Who are you?" He growled.
If it wasn't for the pain rippling through his tone, Cora would've been worried her glamour had slipped.
IIIII
"Wtf, I thought this story was dead." "I thought Shakes was dead!" "Really? Still going on with this AU verse?" No, only in some senses, and yes. Maybe I should stop doing author's notes, maybe they're cursed. Anyway, here's hoping it's not another YEAR before I get the time, emotional stability and mental capacity to continue this dead horse that if I was less stubborn I'd stop beating.
Sneak Peek: Cora's a bitch, she's a big fat bitch, she's the biggest bitch in the whole wide world. Rumple doesn't deal well with emotions. And hey, remember Greg the Pointless Character Before Pointless Characters Were Cool? Also a field trip to the World Without Color.