13.

She'd been fairly certain that Neal's dad was going to kill Regina. Emma wasn't quite sure how long they'd been downstairs in the crazy bin, but while they'd been there it had felt like an eternity. She didn't know the whole story and she was doing her damnedest not to jump to any conclusions, but doctors didn't lock people up without a reason. She didn't think they did, anyway. The only thing she was certain of was that the longer they were in Storybrooke the weirder it got.

Gold had gone upstairs to see if he could find her something to wear. Why he had women's clothing in his bachelor's home, Emma couldn't be sure, but Neal had followed and left her with the lady that was apparently named Belle. She stood, looking very small in Gold's overcoat, with her fingers peeking out to pull it in closer. She didn't seem crazy. At least Emma didn't think so, but her radar for that sort of thing seemed to be off lately. She made a note to drop by Regina's office after Christmas and get her side of the story too. There was something about the woman that she liked, and she didn't want to write her off like she had Ingrid. The longer she stayed in Crazibrooke, the less insane Inglid seemed these days and she'd promised herself she wouldn't run from this. Granted, that was a promise that seemed a little more poorly thought out with each passing day.

"So," the blonde said carefully, filling the awkward silence, "you really don't remember anything? Total amnesia or something?"

Belle blinked at her. "It's all a little hazy," she said quietly, and Emma was having a hard time placing her accent. "It's like there are too many memories swirling around and I can't see them all. I think I know things, but not why I know them."

"Like what things? What memories?" Maybe this was her chance to get someone outside of Neal's family to either confirm or prove wrong what they'd been telling her.

The blue eyed woman shrugged. "It sounds kind of silly."

Emma smirked. "You're in the right town then. This place seems to be made of silly."

"A castle," Belle said quietly, a distant expression taking over. "With stairs that snapped at people. Crazy, isn't it?"

"The mind does weird things," Emma murmured. Well, at least she wasn't panicking anymore. That was something, at least.

"What kind of weird things?" Neal asked as he and his father came down the stairs. He had a box in his hands with a few clothes sticking out and he set it down on a hall table.

"I'm afraid I don't have a great deal to choose from," Gold said softly, all the anger from earlier having washed away as if it hadn't been there to begin with. "These are things that have been in the attic for…. Well they've been up there for years. I suppose I've just never gotten around to putting them out in the shop."

"You work at a shop?" Belle asked quietly.

"I own it, yes. Half of the clutter you see around here is meant to go to it at some point or another. First chance we get we'll get you some better clothes more suited to what you want."

Belle's brows knit and she took a step towards him. "Why? I'm... I'm sorry I don't remember you. We're we close?"

Emma watched Gold duck his head a little and she had to strain to hear his answer. "You changed my life."

Belle had come to work for him because of a deal, but she'd been clever and stubborn, his papa had explained. He'd looked like he didn't want to tell him everything, and he'd certainly glossed over the story in favour of getting the box of clothes down to her. They'd had an argument and he'd kicked her out. That had been that. He'd never seen her again and he hadn't questioned it when Regina told him that she'd died. He'd just sunk into his guilt and put himself back on the path of finding his son. There was more, Bae knew, but he wasn't getting it that night. He'd have to wear his papa down for the rest. It would come. They'd both agreed that Bae needed to hear it, but it didn't all have to be right then, no matter how much the younger man would have prefered it to be.

"You okay?" he asked Emma once they got back to the room.

"Just thinking. Are you sure we did the right thing? Maybe she was down there for a reason."

Bae pursed his lips together thoughtfully. "I don't think they were helping her there."

"Yeah, but what can we do for her?"

"Regina can give her her memories back-"

Emma huffed. "C'mon, it's not funny anymore. This lady may really need help."

Dark eyes blinked. Of course it wasn't funny. Belle couldn't even remember her own name and, even though he tried to hide it, Bae knew his papa was torn up about it. That much he could read between the vague story that he hadn't wanted to tell to begin with. Emma, though, was referring to the fact that she didn't believe in the curse or the Enchanted Forest or pretty much anything that Bae had been telling her. If he'd been in her shoes, he guessed he might have felt the same way. He wasn't. He knew where was happening and - heaven help him - he trusted his papa in what he wasn't able to understand.

"She knows Papa, she just-"

"Is what, Neal? Under a curse? She's an escapee from the loony bin! She was talking about biting staircases! Forgive me if I'm a little freaked out."

He grimaced and he knew how it sounded. He'd ask his father in the morning if the biting staircases, specifically, meant anything, but even if they didn't, it wouldn't matter. Regina could return her memories and Emma would have to believe them then, as long as she would stay long enough to let it be proven to her.

Neal pulled in a deep breath and reached out, his hands catching hers. "Hey?"

"What?" the blonde answered sulkily and he tried not to smile. This wasn't funny. This was serious.

"You love me, right?"

"Yeah."

"Do you trust me?"

There was a pause then and her lips thinned out as she stared at him, almost as if she was trying to decide what angle he was working. He waited, willing himself to be patient with her as she wrestled with herself, until finally she squeezed his fingers. "Yeah."

He let himself smile just a little. "Then trust me until the end of the week. Until the new year. If I haven't given you proof by then… I guess we were both fooled, then." He hated to say it, but he needed her to trust him. If she didn't, Emma would run and he'd likely lose everyone if he tried to chase her. For the first time in so many, many years, there weren't any ties he was willing to cut to run.

Everything seemed like it should be familiar but didn't quite add up. Even the name that they'd told her she should go by felt both like a lie and a truth all at once, swirling around together until it left her dazed and confused. She supposed that she should trust them though. They had rescued her - she thought they had, anyway, as she'd always felt more like a prisoner than a patient - and she didn't think they had any reason to lie to her.

Belle - the more she thought about it, the more she thought the name seemed right, but she couldn't be sure - sat alone in the room that they'd told her she could sleep in. Mr Gold - Rumple? - had seemed awkward and unsure of how to approach her, and she wondered if that was just his nature or if something had happened between them. They were an odd little group of people here, but at least the dark haired woman hadn't come with them. Belle was certain she shouldn't trust her, and that feeling had stuck with her for however long she'd been stuck in that room.

She chewed her lip and stared at the door. Emma had a pair of sleeping pants that she'd let her borrow and Mr Gold had given her a button down shirt, apologizing that he didn't have something more suitable for her before he'd managed to scurry out. The robe that was around her shoulders was a little big - also his - and when she tugged it closer something that might have been a memory danced just outside of her reach. She pulled in a deep breath, inhaling the scent, and closed her eyes. The focus simply wasn't there, but flashes caught her attention and she couldn't help but feel a little safer wrapped up in it. Safer than she had for as long as she could remember, anyway.

Thin fingers fumbled with the tie around her waist and she pulled it closed around her as she stood and started for the door. She'd waited long enough for answers, she decided, and was tired of waiting. Emma certainly didn't seem to have any and she'd barely spoken to the other young man - the one that seemed to go by a different name depending on who was referring to him - so Mr Gold seemed like the best option. Belle thought she could trust her instincts, even if not her obviously faulty memories. Afterall, stairs didn't try to take a bite out of someone passing by, did they? Of course they didn't..

She slipped out into the hallway, blinking against the shadows. No one moved, and while she could hear voices coming from behind a closed door down the hall, they didn't seem to notice that she was out. Her feet were nearly silent against the wood of the floor and she felt a little like a ghost in this strange house, moving so very quietly amongst the old knick knacks and restored furniture.

The door next to the stairs was cracked open and light escaped from under it. Belle looked at it, trying to remember what normal people did. She couldn't be quite sure. Like everything else, it seemed social norms were lost in the haze that told her that there was something she should do, but not what that was. Finally she simply pressed her palms against the wood of the door and pushed it open. "Mr Gold?" she called out softly and took a step into the room.

It was huge, the door in the middle and it went about as far to the left as it did to the right, decorated - as the rest of the house was - in antique furniture that seemed to suit the man that she was quite certain acted as if he'd been picked up from one time and placed here. The curtains were drawn at the windows and the sheets were turned back in the bed that sat next to another door where steam and light poured out of and she waited, unsure of what to do. Perhaps she shouldn't have just walked into his room. That seemed rude, now that she thought about it, especially if she didn't know how she knew this man.

"Belle?"

His voice startled her out of her thoughts and she blinked owlishly at him. Mr Gold stood frozen in the doorframe, right hand gripping his cane and a towel around his waist. His face was flushed red and she wasn't sure if it was from the heat that reached out from the room - the bathroom, part of her mind supplied, though how she knew that she wasn't sure - and his hair slicked back and wet. His posture was stiff and uncomfortable as her eyes moved over him, from those dark brown eyes that were warmer than he seemed to want the world to know and down to his badly scarred right ankle. He wore bruises all over, like he'd been in a scuffle a few days prior, and likely on the losing end of it. She swallowed hard when she realized she was staring, quite certain now that she had crossed a social boundary that she really should have known better than to cross. "I'm sorry, I-"

"It's alright," he answered quickly. "I'm just… getting out of the shower. Give me half a moment?"

Belle nodded and was back out the door before she'd given herself permission, pulling it closed behind her and leaning against it. She hated that feeling bubbling in her, the one that said she should know more than she actually did, and she wanted very desperately to remember him in that moment. It seemed important, even though he'd told her that she should take her time and not worry herself over it. Blue eyes squeezed closed and she reached, struggling for anything that would come. She grabbed for the images that floated, and she thought she could almost recall a strange, teasing sort laugh on the edge of her memory.

She nearly lost herself in it and didn't hear the sound of the doorknob twisting on the door she was leaned against. It opened and Belle tumbled back straight into an equally startled Mr Gold. "I'm sorry," she repeated as he just barely caught her, almost thrown off balance himself.

"Not to worry," he answered softly, clearing his throat in a nervous fashion and set her back to her feet. He straightened himself then, leaning against the cane that she'd yet to see him walk without, and he was dressed in a pair of pajamas now. "Did you find everything to your liking?"

"I… don't know," Belle answered honestly, eyes darting down to her stocking-covered feet. She curled her toes under her, focusing in on the motion because she didn't want to see his expression at the silliness of what she was about to say. "I don't really remember anything past that room you found me in. I… it's rather loud in this house?"

He chuckled, the sound soft and it pulled her eyes back to him. "A bit, I suppose."

"There are noises I don't know."

"What kind?"

He'd moved his cane around front down and was leaning against it with a much more comfortable smile playing at his lips. It eased her nerves. He wasn't giving her that same wide-eyed expression that Emma had earlier when they'd spoken. Gold didn't think she was crazy, and that gave her a little more courage to speak.

"Some sort of wooshing in the walls?"

The smile broadened. "Ah. That would be the pipes."

"For the water?" she asked and knew she should have known the answer.

"Yes. Likely for my shower. I didn't think to warn you."

"You shouldn't have to," Belle murmured and looked back to her toes. It was embarrassing.

Gold reached a hand out tentatively and his fingers rested against her arm. They lingered there for a moment as if he weren't quite sure if she would knock them away. "You've been through quite an ordeal, my dear," he whispered, his lilt soft and familiar.

"How did we know each other, Mr Gold?" Belle asked, looking up again and he met her gaze. "Were we… close? You said that I changed your life, but I don't know what you meant by that. I know that I should-"

"It'll come back to you," he promised, and not for the first time that evening.

"I want to hear it from you though. Please?"

He loosed a breath through his nose and motioned to the stairs. "How about some tea while we talk?"

She nodded and followed him slowly down the stairs, a thousand questions raging through her mind and none of them slipping out. They wound around to the kitchen and he moved to put the kettle on, leaning against the counter while the water boiled. "It will… make more sense later, but you came to work for me at my… home." He was careful with his words, picking and choosing them in a slow manner, his eyes never leaving hers. Oddly enough, it didn't make her uncomfortable, even though she knew he was gaging her reaction.

"Were we friends?" she asked.

"Of a sort."

Belle pursed her lips together and despite her best efforts, a question that she didn't want to slip came tumbling from them. "Were we… together?"

That seemed to startle him and he broke the eye contact to turn back to the kettle. It hadn't begun to sing yet, but he appeared to be willing it to make some noise or another so that he could avoid answering the question. Belle felt her chest clench a little. She hadn't meant to make him uncomfortable, of course, but it was just the way he looked at her. It was like he'd seen a ghost.

"No," he breathed after a moment. "Things never got that far."

"But you cared about me?"

His eyes flickered back, never quite meeting hers. "Yes," he answered in a small voice.

"And I cared about you?"

"I believe you did."

The kettle began to sing and he reached for it, moving it over and pulling two mugs from the cupboard. She watched him and he very purposefully did not watch her as he worked, placing two bags into the mugs and pouring the steaming water over them. He handed her one and she offered him a shy smile. "Thank you."

"Of course," he answered automatically.

Belle reached forward and her fingers rested on the knuckles of his hand that loosely gripped his cane. He stiffened at the touch and her smile managed to broaden. "I mean thank you for saving me," she clarified and that brought his warm brown eyes back to look at her.

Gold swallowed hard. "I know… I know you don't know me yet, but I will protect you, Belle. This time, I won't let anything happen to you."

She didn't say anything as she set her mug down so that she could wrap her arms around his middle. He didn't say anything, but she heard the soft sound of his own mug being put down on the counter and felt a hesitant arm returning the embrace. She still couldn't remember him, but this felt right, and right now, her instincts were all she had to go off of.

Baelfire was not a natural early riser. When he'd been young his papa had let him sleep, even though he'd been up before the sun to spin and work to put food on the table for them both. He'd been a child and didn't always understand just how hard his father really did work before his curse, but looking back on it as an adult - even if his physical age was just over twenty, he'd lived for centuries and was certain that had to count for something - he knew that Rumplestiltskin had done everything to make sure they stayed afloat after Bae's mother had left.

Neverland had done nothing to help his ability to rise early. In fact, Bae thought it might have made it worse. Those years had been filled with long nights on the run, often into the morning's light. The boys that followed Pan cared little for the rules they said that adults put into place. He'd noticed that the island had finally sunk into an almost perpetual darkness that made it difficult to tell day from night. It also made it difficult to know just how long he'd been there.

He wasn't in Neverland, though, nor was he in their little hovel with only very thin walls between them and the frigid temperatures outside. Oh, the wind was whistling, but there were sturdy house all around them and as Bae blinked his eyes open he remembered that he was snuggled down beneath piles of warm blankets that his father didn't have to continuously mend to keep out the cold air. He wasn't on the run from Lost Boys or from any sort of cops that thought they might smell a con in the making. He was safe, and as he let the last few days' worth of memories fill up his mind he almost dared to think that he might have found a place where he could belong. Where they could belong.

Emma tightened her grip on him, pulling his smile wider and all he could see was blond hair. She was waking up, reluctantly, just like he was, and he hoped that she'd be in a better mood this morning. While she'd promised to give him until the new year to prove to her what he'd been saying was true, she hadn't really let the bit about Belle go. He understood, really he did, but he hoped he was putting his faith in the right place. His papa seemed to genuinely care about her and if he was going to help get her memories back, then that could hardly be a bad thing. Once Emma saw that transformation, even she couldn't deny it forever. They could stay here. Once her family woke up, she could be reunited with them and they wouldn't have to worry about conning people for their next meals. It was more than he could have wished for. It was more than he would have ever hoped for, certainly. They could finally have found a home.

"What're you grinning at this early?"

He managed to look down to find a pair of hazel eyes staring sleepily up at him and the grin only widened. "Nothing," he said, his voice rough from sleep.

"No, you've got that Neal's-been-thinking look on," she argued with that quirked smile of hers that he loved.

"Yeah, and what does that look like?"

The smile broadened to a grin and her fingers moved under his t-shirt to dance across his ribs, sending him twitching away from her. "Not fair!" he complained and she giggled.

"Then tell me!"

"It's stupid."

"Maybe not?"

It was, or it would be until she was able to wrap her mind around the fact that he wasn't crazy. Emma wasn't the most trusting person to begin with - from what he knew of her past, he understood why - but she was in a delicate place now and he had to be wary of that so that he didn't send her running. She had already given him more than he might have hoped for and she was trying to trust him, against all odds.

"I was thinking… that Papa has that really fancy coffee machine downstairs and I bet I can figure it out and bring you a cup up?"

"Coffee in bed? Isn't that supposed to be breakfast?"

"Well, I never claimed to be a cook."

"Too bad you didn't inherit those skills," Emma teased and kissed the tip of his nose. "I'll go down with you."

He shrugged and she threw the covers off of them, both immediately regretting it as the cold air came rushing in. Emma yelped and pulled one of the quilts after her, wrapping it around her shoulders and Bae glared a little. "Thief."

She rolled her eyes. "Uhhuh. So are you the pot or the kettle?" She stood there as he shivered, pulling himself out of bed and looking for the socks he'd been sure he was wearing the night before. "You coming?"

"Give me a sec to find my clothes, if you don't mind. It's cold and I threw a sweatshirt down somewhere last night."

"I meant the blanket, dummy," she groused and he looked over to see she was holding it open for him.

"Oh." Bae darted for it, ducking into the quilt and wrapping an arm around her so that they could walk closely enough together. It was awkward, but they made it through the door like that without either of them losing the quilt. The fact that there were other quilts on the bed didn't seem to matter as they huddled and scooted down the stairs as gracefully and quietly as they could manage.

The laughter quieted as the hit the bottom of the steps and realized that they were not the only ones downstairs on that early Christmas morning. Bae shushed Emma immediately as they crept around the corner, spying the two very still forms on the couch. As they moved closer it became clear that neither were awake, but Rumplestiltskin and Belle had fallen asleep at some point and were stretched out on the couch together as if no time had been missed.

"I guess he really does know her, huh?" Emma whispered and motioned. She was smiling, though, and it caught.

"Guess so. Meet you in the kitchen?"

She nodded and he kissed her quickly, unwrapping himself from the blanket and moved into the sitting room. Rumplestiltskin was slumped against the pillows of the couch, feet propped up on a footstool with Belle curled into him, leaned against his chest with an open book in her lap as if they'd been reading it together. His neck was bent at an awkward angle, side of his head rested against the top of hers, and Bae found himself simply watching. There had been so few times that he'd actually seen his papa sleep when he was young, but now the lines in his face seemed relaxed and he looked peaceful.

"Neal?" Emma called as softly as she could and he waved that he'd be there in a moment. His smile didn't fade as he grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch and carefully spread it across them both. He waited half a second to see if they would wake, and when his papa only stirred he left them there to sleep. With any luck, maybe he and Emma could figure out something for breakfast and surprise them.

He padded his way into the kitchen to find her already searching through cupboards for what she needed. "You're on coffee duty," she whispered.

"Yeah, and what are you doing?"

Emma grinned, pulling the eggs from the fridge. "Pancakes."

They had been talking well into the night. He hadn't even thought about the void that Regina had provided her with to fill the place of her memories would have affected the way she saw the world they were currently in. She was very much Belle. She was still as clever, curious, and determined as she'd always been, but it was as if someone had simply wiped the slate clean. Regina couldn't deprive her of the qualities that made up her personality without replacing the personality entirely - just as she had with most of the people that were in Storybrooke - and for some reason she'd chosen not to do that. Rumplestiltskin still wasn't sure why, but there would be time for all those answers after he was sure he could keep his temper in check. He needed her, both to return the memories she'd promised to return and to work on their Magnus problem that he didn't dare forget for too long, and they both knew it.

He couldn't quite recall the point when he and Belle had split ways for the night. The last memory he seemed to have was that she had found his collection of books he kept in his house and had been enraptured. Everything was new and he kept a bit on everything. Mr Gold had spent almost as many of his many lonely hours reading as he had tinkering when he got home from the shop in the evenings and he kept quite the assortment on his shelves. Belle had found books on history, technology, antiques, politics of that world, and several classics. She'd barely known where to start, and now that Rumplestiltskin thought about it, he didn't think she'd ever decided to stop.

Dark brown eyes fluttered open slowly and he recognized that he was sleeping while sitting mostly upright. He had never left the couch the night before, but instead his former maid was leaned against him, her cheek pressed against the silk of his shirtsleeve and he had apparently dozed to the point that he had leaned against her as well. He felt the blood rush to his face immediately. This young woman no longer knew him, and even if she did, they'd hardly left it at a point where he could simply expect… what? For her to fall asleep next to him? To want to spend forever with him, not simply stay because of a deal that had been struck for her family's sake?

Don't be a fool, he reminded himself sternly, or perhaps it was his curse bleeding through and pushing reality in. She only thought she loved you, and no matter what, in the end, you threw her out. You made your choice. You're no hero to rush in and rescue her now.

Rumplestiltskin grimaced at the thought and he pushed a short breath out through his nose. His thoughts, the curse, or simple truth, it really didn't matter. He'd betrayed her, and while he knew now he loved this woman more than he could have bared to think about while, for him, still fresh from the sting that had been Cora's and his wild relationship, he couldn't expect the same when she came back to herself. He had to be prepared for that and he didn't dare put his heart on the line just so that it could break all over again. He would care for her, he would protect her, but he didn't dare fall in love with her all over again. He knew she would likely not feel the same once she remembered.

Belle stirred next to him and he stiffened, highly aware of their rather awkward position. There was no way to remove himself from it, of course, so he merely remained as still as he could until he found a pair of sleepy blue eyes looking up at him. "I fell asleep on you, didn't I?" she asked, sounding rather embarrassed with herself. "Why didn't you wake me?"

She sat up, blinking the remaining sleep from her eyes and Rumplestiltskin tried to remain in control. "I fear I may have drifted as well. It was quite late."

"I'm so sorry. You must be terribly stiff this morning."

He was, now that he thought about it. He'd fallen asleep in more awkward positions in the last handful of days than he normally would have. Part of him - the part he was still trying to quiet down - didn't mind at all. It had allowed him to be close her her if even for a short time. It was amazing how bright her light was against all of his own darkness, even without her memories intact. Between she and Bae in his life, perhaps he could even be a better man here with his curse cut off as it was.

"It's no matter," he said after a moment when he realized that he hadn't answered her yet. He could hear sizzling coming from the kitchen and the idea of Bae trying to cook breakfast was enough to pull him almost immediately to his feet. Thankfully, Belle was there to try to steady him when his ankle immediately gave way and he started to tumble forward.

She let out a startled gasp and her fingers grasped hold of his shirtsleeve and he rocked back, able to shift his weight to steady himself. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes." She was smiling at him now and it was terribly distracting. He knew he needed to put distance between himself and the pain that was certain to come, but perhaps that could wait just a little bit.

"You don't strike me as a man easily flustered, Mr Gold," Belle said quietly, "but you do seem rather tongue tied."

Rumplestiltskin flushed. "We should go on in for breakfast. Wouldn't want Bae to burn the kitchen down."

"I heard that!" his son's voice came from the kitchen and he stuck his head in. "Emma's cooking, not that that's any better. Get in here or we'll eat without you."

Belle giggled and handed him his cane, barely letting him get his fingers around the handle before she pulled him in towards the smells that were wafting in. The little would-be savior had found everything she needed, so it would seem, and was making cinnamon pancakes. Bae had managed to remember where the plates and silverware were and had set the table, looking fairly proud of himself. He smirked as Belle took a seat and Rumplestiltskin simply watched it all unfold, feeling a bit like he hadn't actually woken up yet.

"So?" Bae whispered.

"So what?"

"Did she remember you?"

"Regina hasn't returned her memories yet," he answered with a slightly confused look and his son shrugged.

"Thought maybe something would have gotten through. Bits did with Gold."

"Did they?"

Bae offered a lopsided smirk and sipped his coffee without answering.

Emma, for her part, looked in much better spirits that morning as she put a big pile of pancakes in the center of the table. She turned her grin on Rumplestiltskin as if she'd proved him wrong on something, but perhaps that particular look was meant for Bae who was still at his side. "Told you I make a mean breakfast," she announced. "Merry Christmas!"

Bae burst out laughing and his papa chuckled, shaking his head the whole way to the table to take a seat. Yes, this was certainly a different and unexpected turn of events - something that a man that had been accustomed to seeing the future rarely enjoyed - but as he looked around at his long-lost son, the woman that he'd thought he had loved too late, and the someday-savior some Storybrooke that would break the curse that he'd orchestrated, he thought that this particular twist and turn could turn out alright.

TBC

Notes: Well that was a fluffy chapter. Apparently I missed writing Rumbelle :P

Alright, fellow writers, I have a question for you. Does anyone have any experience with Wattpad? I'm potentially looking into it for my original works. Does anyone know anything about it?

Next time - Emma and Belle get roped into volunteering to help Mary Margaret read to patients in the hospital, and a certain book makes an appearance.