Once Upon a Time 1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything involving the show Once Upon a Time. All characters, places, and other such details belong to ABC.**_

_**A/N: I don't know how many stories are currently based on this idea, but I had an urge to write this shortly after seeing the end of "Witch Hunt" (3x13). It'll focus mainly on Rumbelle. I intend for this to follow the pattern of my story "That Which is Lost". In other words, I'm probably not going to rely heavily on the events of the show to tell this story-I will be telling it in my own way, of my own creativity. I'm excited to see where it will take me. **_

_**With that being said, I hope everyone enjoys reading it. **_

It was a common belief that people saw white light at the precise moment of their death. There was even that old saying: _walk toward the light. _An ethereal beam from above that was guaranteed to guide them to a better place.

Up until then, Rumpelstiltskin never put much stock into it one way or the other. He had never been close enough to death to test the theory. But when the dagger that bound his power as the Dark One finally thrust through his father's body and into his heart, that was all he could see. Brilliant white light, blinding him from every corner.

_Villains don't get happy endings; _his own last words echoed endlessly in his ears. All feeling in his body ceased, every muscle contorting for the last time, his brain unable to produce a single coherent thought, his heartbeat slowing in his chest. His body became light as a feather, floating on the wind. There was no misery, there was no pain, there was no regret...

He was free.

He didn't know what he expected to be waiting for him, when all was said and done. A better place, overflowing with the same pure, enchanting white light that lifted his soul from his mortal body? A choir of angels and a pair of magnificent golden gates, opening to admit him to the great beyond? A dull gray world in between heaven and earth in which he would wander aimlessly, restlessly, as payment for the suffering he caused in his four hundred years of living?

For once, Rumpelstiltskin had no answers, no knowledge to prepare him for what lay ahead.

Somehow, where he ended up defied all of his expectations.

Without warning, his soul was yanked backward, as though tied to an unbreakable chain, falling short of the sky, and crammed inside his body once more. It was impossible to tell if it had been seconds or years since his sacrifice. All hopes of heavenly music shattered. Awareness and feeling returned to him with the brutal force of a brick wall. His heart kicked back up, pounding and pulsing rapidly in his chest. The white light faded and he plunged headfirst into cold, cruel darkness.

What had he done to deserve this harsh reawakening?

Coils of seductive, sinister laughter burst through the warm, serene bubble that had started to form around his entire being. It was difficult to detect the source, for it seemed the noise was everywhere around him, flanking him on all sides. The laughter penetrated his brain, spinning round and round, spinning like a wheel. It made his head throb worse than it already was. Everything ached, but the greatest agony shot up from his ankle, proving that he was once again among the living.

He was alive.

He was trapped in darkness.

There were hands on his arms. Rough hands dragging him across the ground. Sharp nails dug into his skin through his shirt. His strength was slow in returning, his limbs limp and ignoring his commands to move.

All of a sudden, his body dropped to the floor, his cheek colliding sharply with the damp ground. It stung from the impact. A distinct _click_, conjoined with the rattle of keys, pierced his ears and then he was being tugged along again. Being tossed somewhere like a useless bag of flour. His forehead smashed into a solid set of bars and he barely heard the clang of the door as it slammed shut. When his hand rose to his forehead, he felt something wet trickle over his brow. Blood.

A cage.

Someone had thrown him in a cage.

He raised his head, but it knocked against the top of the the cage. His skull screamed in protest, hot and painful. His legs stretched, but the walls of the cage prevented them from unfolding completely. This cage was never meant for a human. It was meant for a dog.

A slice of light invaded the cocoon of shadows that was vastly embracing his body. It was brief, and he could almost make out the figure of a person ascending a set of stairs. He forced his body to squirm across the cage, his hands wrapping around the black bars, desperately seeking to put a face with this torture. His throat was raw and dry as sandpaper, stopping him from crying out. His vision blurred, warm water rising beneath his eyelids, but he saw enough to know the person was hiding behind a cloak.

Coward.

The light vanished as quickly as it had come, giving him over to the darkness once more. He slumped against the bars of his cage in despair, weak and broken. The suffering in his heart trumped that of his ankle.

Why were the gods so merciless as to toss him right back into a world that granted him heartache? He had meant to die for his loved ones; he had finally found the will to do the brave thing. It was his intention to sacrifice himself so that they could survive.

Belle...

Bae...

He pressed his hand over his heart and swore he could feel it breaking. Was this his reward for his act of selflessness? Was he doomed to be punished after all? In a cage, in the darkness, alone, instead of sleep eternal? This was not a haven; this was hell. Had Belle and Bae even managed to escape? Or was it all for nothing? It was so tempting to submit himself to it, to welcome the wings of darkness that wrapped so formidably around his body.

As far as he knew, this was the point of his existence for the time being. An ocean of darkness and he was searching for the light. It took incredible strength and courage on his part to sacrifice himself for the sake of those he loved most dearly. It was clear now that his story had not reached its conclusion.

He needed to do it again. He could not allow himself to revert to that selfish, spineless man he had been content to be for so long. Doing so would certainly sign his death certificate once and for all. Huddled in the corner of his cage, lost and lonely, he silently gave his word.

For Belle, for Bae...he would not stop fighting.

...


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: I had an urge to write the second chapter already, so here it is. I also want to thank those that read, favorited, and reviewed so far. I hope everyone continues to enjoy this story. Let us hope that the show gives us back our real Rumpel fairly soon. **_

In the cold womb of the darkness, there was no way to tell how much time passed. Had hours slipped by since his imprisonment in that cage? Or did the gap between blinks only feel that way? He began to imagine a pendulum in his head. A golden, gleaming pendulum swinging back and forth, counting off the seconds.

_Tick...tock...tick...tock..._

Ticking like a clock. The town clock stood in the heart of Storybrooke, directly above the library. That meant Belle stood in the heart of Storybrooke. A fitting place for his beauty.

Ticking like a bomb about to go off.

_Tick...tock...tick...tock..._

"Tick, tock," he chanted. The urge to giggle bubbled up inside his throat, the shrill giggle of an imp of long ago.

No! He couldn't do that. He could not slip into madness.

It often happened whenever he was locked up. Too much thinking and nowhere for that pent-up energy to go. He had to stop thinking so much. If only it were that simple. His brain was an exquisite machine, the wheels endlessly turning, but there was no switch in which to turn it off.

The only thoughts he kept close to the surface of his mind were his memories of Belle and Bae.

He flashed back to the day he reunited with Belle, when the curse broke, her sincere oath of love, her skin pale and her hair in tangles. Even then, one of his first thoughts had been how beautiful she was. He thought of Bae, of finally getting his son back only to have to make that sacrifice. The last thing he ever wanted was for his son to be fatherless. It was the sole reason for the gnarled flesh of his ankle.

Those memories kept him grounded, rooted to the present, a reminder that he was a human man in the cursed town of Storybrooke, Maine. Not the infernal little imp he had previously been. Those memories also gave him the motivation he needed to fight.

For the first few hours, with the amount of passing time being an assumption on his part, he resisted restlessly. He scoured every inch of his cage, from corner to corner, searching for anything that might prove useful for escape. When his hands remained empty, he unleashed his frustration by beating the bars, driving his knuckles and palms into them repeatedly until his skin was raw and bleeding. He cradled his sore, bruised hands in his lap, his mind scrambling for answers without gratification.

Even his magic was useless.

All it would have taken to be free of Snow and Charming's anti-magic cell was a jar of squid ink, but he had no such delicacy this time. When he touched the cage's door and willed it to open via magic, something peculiar happened. A zap of electricity shot through his palm, scorching it, and his heart constricted in his chest until he backed away from the door. Something was preventing him from summoning his magic. He tried it again and got the same result. A growl of pain and despair fell from his lips.

Eventually, he learned to stop trying it.

Sucking in the musty air, his heart pounding in his chest, he leaned his head back against the bars. His forehead still ached from the impact of being thrown in the cell, but at least it stopped throbbing. Closing his eyes, he thought of Belle.

Belle...

Eyes the color of sapphires and just as bright. Easy to drown in.

A smile that outshined the sun that hung over Storybrooke. His candle of light.

Handing her that rose...the first time she ever dared to kiss him...his longing to return it...

The alarming _bang _of a door shook him out of his reverie. He wished it hadn't. It was far more pleasant dreaming of Belle than enduring this inhumanely small prison.

The sound of footsteps directed his attention to the set of stairs. Beyond the bars were streaks of gray light. Not as blinding as the light he glimpsed after his so-called death, but he winced and batted his eyelids after being stuck in the darkness for so long. The light illuminated his surroundings, but there was little to see-all he knew was that he was in some sort of basement or underground chamber.

A slender figure, clad head to toe in a cloak, descended the stairs and approached his cage.

"Oh, good. You're awake. I've heard disturbing tales about those that stir the Dark One from his beauty sleep," a feminine voice, distinctly British, taunted. His pulse quickened.

That voice.

It had been years since he last heard that voice, but it was impossible to forget its owner. After all, how many green witches could there be in the Enchanted Forest?

"Zelena," he hissed, his hands wrapping around the bars. If she dared to venture closer, he would wrap them around her throat instead. She took after her half-sister, always striving to be more powerful than him and failing.

Then again, he was still inside the cage and she was on the outside, pointing a finger and laughing.

A dark chuckle arose from underneath the hood of the cloak. She was cocky enough to kneel down a mere foot in front of the cage and toss back her hood to reveal her face. It wasn't her true face. In this world, she lacked the odd green skin, but he still recognized her. Malice glittered in the depths of her narrowed eyes, framed by red curls.

"So you remember me? Never would have guessed from the way you nominated Regina as your favorite student. Not only did you educate her in magic, but you granted her the power to cast your curse. Power she didn't even know how to appreciate. She was always your favorite, wasn't she? Yours...and Cora's."

She refused to label Cora as her mother. Always had, due to the sting of rejection, betrayal, and inferiority to her half-sister. The jealousy radiated off of her, nothing short of suffocating. Every syllable she spoke drilled through his skull.

Did she have to whine so much?

"If I tell you you're my favorite, will you swallow that tongue of yours and release me?" His voice was little more than a rasp, cracking as irritatingly as a teenage boy on the cusp of puberty. Zelena's lips twisted into a childish pout. Much like Regina, she did not like to be scorned verbally or emotionally.

"What's the matter, Rumpel? You don't appreciate my hospitality?" Rumpel snorted. Hospitality was much too decent a word for this treatment.

Gods, she was so close to the bars. Inching her way forward, confidence climbing. It would be so easy to reach out, grab her by the chin, pull her against the bars, snap her neck...No, not snap her neck. If she was clever enough not to carry the key on her person, he might never escape this cage. Patience.

He stayed his hand. For now.

"Why did you bring me back?" A similar question followed on its heels: how? His soul had been wandering freely. Somehow, she had tethered it to his body once more.

No doubt Zelena longed for revenge on her "good" sister after being so carelessly tossed away by her mother. Sibling rivalry and all that jazz. Pretty soon, she'd be stealing Regina's shoes.

But Zelena brought her face down to his, a trivial smirk playing on her lips. She knew, but she wasn't telling.

"You'll see," she whispered, her breath hot upon his nose. It stank of onions. He guessed she must have acquainted herself with Granny's burgers, the special ones that had chopped onions mixed into the meat to give it a zesty taste.

A flash of memory. Burgers with Belle. Her first taste of the standard food of Storybrooke. The bottle of ketchup in his hand. _Condiments are this world's most powerful magic. _He'd been so nervous about his lunch date with Belle, not wanting to screw it up, that he invented that ridiculous line. Thankfully, she laughed. Belle always laughed at his quips.

The urge to giggle returned, more demanding than ever. _That one was a quip. _He choked it down.

"Are you feeling alright, Rumpel? You look positively mad," Zelena cooed. She sounded much too gleeful about the prospect of his slipping sanity. Then she shifted away, still kneeling.

He saw his chance and took it.

Sticking his arm through the bars, he grabbed a fistful of rough brown cloth. It was the hood of her cloak. Yanking hard on it, he dragged her across the floor, her head hitting the bars. _How does it feel? _His fingers wrested a thick patch of red curls while the other hand squeezed her throat, cutting off her air supply. Her feet kicked and writhed over the floor, her nails desperately scratching the skin of his hand. Her face was close enough to allow him to breathe into her ear.

"You two never learned to keep your distance from the bars. Where is the key?"

He squeezed her throat a tad tighter, warning her of the consequences should she lie or resist. A string of gargling noises convinced him to loosen his hold. Just enough for her to regain the use of her vocal cords.

"Sorry, dearie. Didn't quite catch that."

"You...sick...imp," she gasped. Funny. That was one of Regina's favorite titles for him. The sick little imp.

Zelena's hands stopped struggling for freedom of her throat and fumbled inside her cloak. Perhaps she was smart enough to surrender the key. He noticed a glint of silver, an instant before the skin of his hand split apart and blood welled up from a fresh wound. Snarling, he tossed her aside and pulled his hands back into the cage. The wound was deep enough to require a long strip of his shirt-his once fine dress shirt-to stop the bleeding.

Zelena clumsily got to her feet, her body still trembling from his sudden attack. In her hand was a knife. No, not a knife. His dagger. The letters of his name were black, inscribed in the jagged silver blade.

That was why he had no control over his magic.

"You are never to do that again, Rumpelstiltskin," she commanded, holding the dagger horizontally in the air. The command echoed in his head, pouring through his ears like poison, the chains forged by that blade encircling his heart. he sunk into the farthest corner in defeat.

"No...I thought..." Had his sacrifice not been enough to chase the dark being from his body?

"You thought your curse had been broken?" She snickered. Tucking the dagger close to her chest, she stroked his name. "Sorry to disappoint. The only thing you succeeded in doing was killing your father and nearly killing yourself in the process. Nearly."

That was the key word. The rules of magic forbade the dead from being brought back to life, but people on the verge of death weren't included in that restriction. He wished she had let him die. Let his death be an honorable one.

She returned the dagger to the folds of her cloak. It would never leave her side so long as she was down here, he knew. Even if he miraculously escaped this cage, she had effectively trapped him in a stronger one. It wasn't long before she climbed those stairs and he couldn't say he was sad to see her go.

The door fell back into place, the light diminished, and the black shadows swept over his vision like so many cockroaches crawling out from their crannies. The memories of Belle played behind his eyelids. The pendulum swung.

"Tick...tock..."


	3. Chapter 3

Hydrophobia.

The irrational fear of water. A rare condition, but a nusiance to those unfortunate enough to exhibit it. By implication, the fear could be cured, or at the very least lessened in intensity. Zelena, however, dealt with something far more troubling than the fear of water. She was allergic to it. Born with it and forced to suffer by it for all the years of her life. It was her Achilles' heel.

He once remembered a time, back when he had taught Zelena in the ways of magic, that it had started to rain during one of their outdoor lessons. Each individual drop burned the skin it touched and her screams had been so powerful that he was forced to transport them both to the inside of his castle. Once she was dry, the agony had subsided.

Every magical being, including him, had a weakness. If only he could devise a way to use it against her.

Rumpel licked his dry lips. His throat was equally parched. Deep down, he knew Zelena would not be stupid enough to physically hand him a glass of water or expect him not to toss it back in her face. If she cared even a smidgen about his dehydration, water would appear in that cage. Even then, he didn't know if he would dare to drink it. What if it was poisoned? What if it contained a deadly curse? There were potions and curses that could make him open up to her against his will, even curses that could make him think he was madly in love with her.

Madly...

_You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink, _he thought in the back of his mind. He cringed. Every second that passed, his beautiful brain perished more and more. He held on tightly to the remaining strands of his sanity, to the memories of Bae and Belle that kept him grounded. It pained him to admit that even those memories were slowly growing hazy, like bits of a dream passing by.

If Zelena was generous enough to bestow him water, he vowed he would not give in to his weakness and drink it. Instead, he would use it against her. All he had to do was wait for the opportunity to present itself, if it ever would.

At some point, he had fallen into an uneasy sleep. He was restless, his head lolling across the bars of the cage as he slept, his legs scraping and kicking over the ground. He was haunted by nightmares. Cruel nightmares of Bae, Belle, of everyone in Storybrooke and what Zelena could command him to do. She had the power in the palm of her hand, thanks to that infernal dagger.

The rattling of keys jarred him from sleep. For a second, it reminded him of the bell that hung over the door of his shop, the bell that chimed every time someone entered his pawnshop. Half-awake, his brain deceived him with desires of being in the comfort of his pawnshop, with Belle looming over him with the intention of kissing him awake. He blinked and reality crashed over him like a fearsome wave.

Zelena had opened the door to his cage and she stood just beyond it, drumming her long nails on the door and staring in at him expectantly.

"Did I interrupt your beauty sleep?" Rumpel's only response was an inhuman snarl. "I figured I'd be generous and offer you a chance to step outside, stretch your legs, and relieve yourself, but if you're going to behave so rudely..."

Zelena threatened to close the door, leaving it slightly ajar. Her piercing eyes watched him through the bars, waiting for him to show some fealty. He would not bow down before her, would not kiss her boot, would not beg for freedom or mercy. Of course, his lack of compliance spoiled Zelena's fun.

"You may think yourself unbreakable, Rumpel, but give it time. Soon I'll have you clinging to my skirts and begging me for your pitiful life."

She swung the door open again and beckoned for him to crawl out. He did so, but only because there wasn't enough room in the cage to stand. Gripping the bars of the door, he struggled to pull himself up. His muscles were weak and sore from disuse and he teetered like an infant learning to take its first steps.

When he finally gained control over his limbs, Zelena slammed the door shut and had his dagger in her hand before he could try anything to subdue her.

"Hear me, Dark One. You will not attempt to run away before I lock you back in your cage."

He shuddered as he felt the chains of her command clench his heart. She looped her arm through his, as if he was her date accompanying her to a ball, and she led him up the rickety stairs. Once or twice he stumbled, much to her irritation. He was not the graceful, powerful man he'd been before his sacrifice. She had stripped him of both the moment she locked him away in the darkness.

It was the early hours of the morning. He could tell just by looking up at the mystifying purple and blood-red sky. All of Storybrooke would be sleeping, including Bae and Belle. He wished them both good dreams. The cool breeze blew over his forehead and cheeks, and his skin sucked it up thirstily, the gust passing through his clothes and seeping into his bones.

They trodded over a desolate stretch of land. It must have been in Storybrooke, but it was unfamiliar to him. There was a shabby, off-white house not too far away. A farmhouse, complete with a white picket fence wrapping around the back, the paint chipped and peeling, and an old bicycle on the porch. It even had a tacky straw-colored basket. Looking back over his shoulder, he found that they had emerged from some type of storm cellar.

"Over here," Zelena impatiently directed him toward a line of trees near the farmhouse. He had taken a step in the direction of the farmhouse, thinking she might intend for him to make good use of the indoor plumbing, but of course that was ridiculous. Toilets, sinks, baths-all sources of water and all a danger to her. "Pick a tree, any tree."

She waved her hand to the selection of trees at his disposal. He started to move deeper into the woods, with the hope that the trees would shield him from her view. The twigs snapped under her feet as she followed a mere foot behind.

"Do you mind giving me a little privacy, _dearie?_ You already commanded me not to run away," he reminded her harshly. Zelena's painted lips curled.

"Insurance. Being a slimy dealmaker at heart, you should be able to understand that." He ignored the barb. It was getting harder not to notice the need to empty his bladder and he tried not to think about anything concerning water. Zelena's tongue ran over her two front teeth. "What's the matter, Rumpel? Are you shy? Insecure about your manhood?"

Her gaze deliberately dropped below his waist. Bile scorched the back of his throat. Gods, she was even more revolting than Regina! At this point, Regina seemed to be the more sensible one of the family, never once expressing any intimate interest in him.

His neck grew warm as he felt Zelena's eyes boring into his back. There was a building of pressure in his abdomen and he supposed it was better to get it over with quickly. With Zelena observing from behind, he hastily unzipped his pants and relieved himself. At least zippers were faster to undo and redo than laces. As the pressure faded, he closed his eyes in bliss. That felt so much better.

What would Zelena do if he turned around and he sprayed her instead of the tree? Would it even work? He mentally ridiculed himself for even considering such a foul idea. His desperation had substituted his gentlemanly manners.

The last few drops emptied out of his system and he sullenly fixed his suit. Back to the cage. Zelena escorted him with obvious satisfaction. She didn't even let him linger on the field to watch the sun finish rising.

Into the darkness once more, though it felt colder and blacker than when he'd left it moments ago. He knew the reason. He had briefly glimpsed the outside world-freedom-and been deprived of it. Zelena shoved him inside that cramped cage and locked the door. His despair returned with the sound of keys in the lock.

"Where are my manners?" She snapped her fingers and something materialized inside his cage. It was a bowl of what looked like oatmeal and a silver dog bowl filled with milk. Zelena smiled proudly, as if she had gifted him with a feast for a king. "Eat up."

Rumpel recoiled from the bowls and forcefully kicked them over. The bowls crashed against the bars of the cage before clattering on the ground. The oatmeal splattered over the bars and the gray floor beyond it. The milk splashed Zelena's cloak, but not her skin. He wasn't entirely sure if milk would harm her the same way as natural water. Zelena flapped her cloak, but only a few drops of milk flew from the cloth.

"Pity. That's the only food you'll be getting for a while." Rumpel scooted into a corner of his cage, opposite the overturned bowls, and showed no remorse.

"How do I know you haven't poisoned it? Or cursed it?" It was easy enough to accomplish, if one knew how. Zelena knelt in front of his cage and her tongue clucked, making a condescending _tsk-tsk-tsk. _

"Oh, Rumpel," she crooned. "Always so paranoid. Have you ever considered that I'm trying to help you?" This time, he did not try to prevent that old, shrill giggle from leaping out of his mouth. Thankfully, Zelena appeared startled by the noise and she seemed to be questioning his sanity.

"Help me?" Oh, that was worth a giggle and a half. "No, you're using me for your own benefit, whatever that benefit might be."

More than likely, she was going to use his prison to mold him into her own obedient hound dog, then ravage the town and her half-sister. What was to become of him afterwards? Was he doomed to be her eternal slave?

Zelena did not remove the bowls from his cage. It was to be part of his punishment, staring at those bowls and the food he so carelessly wasted.

"As the Dark One, you must be familiar with the feeling of not being able to die." She shrugged. "Don't eat. But you won't starve to death, if that's what you're hoping for. You'll reach the precipice of death and then you shall hang there, like a wretched soul that's been sentenced to the gallows and whose neck refuses to break. Let me know how that feels."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and marched up the stairs. The door to the storm cellar closed with a loud _bang. _He became reacquainted with the shadows. His stomach grumbled, scolding him for his rash behavior.

No, he had done the right thing. He could not afford to give in to Zelena or play her wicked game. It was a match he would most certainly lose. He had to be strong; he had to carry on.

For Bae. For Belle.

Sleep began to seize him again, and the nightmares would be waiting. He wondered what Belle would be doing that day or if she'd be kind enough to keep him in her thoughts.

...

Belle always savored that moment between sound sleep and waking up. The moment when her mind was still swimming freely through dreams, when she first felt the warmth of the sun on her face, when she stretched under the sheets of Rumpel's bed. Before she remembered everything.

It brought her both grief and comfort to stay in Rumpel's home even after he was gone. Grief because she would wake up to find his side of the bed empty, the blankets perfectly made up. It brought her comfort because it was the closest she could come to him during her time of grief, other than his pawnshop.

That day, she decided to keep herself busy by cleaning the house. She opened up the windows and let the fresh air in. She washed the sheets and they smelled like sunshine when she made the bed. All the while, she tried to keep her mind from wandering to anything too painful.

It proved to be impossible.

Old memories pulsed at the edges of her mind, demanding a second look. When she washed the dishes in the sink and stacked them neatly in the cupboard, she found their chipped cup. She had stored it on the top shelf for safekeeping. It was too hard to resist taking it into her hands.

_It's just a cup. _Rumpel's voice echoed through her head as she ran her thumb over the chip in the rim. It would always be more than just a cup. She placed it back on the shelf and closed the cupboard.

The last place she dusted was the library. It wasn't as large as the one in the Dark Castle, but it was still one of Belle's favorite rooms in the house. She handled each volume delicately, as she might a newborn child. Occasionally she would pause with an unfamiliar book in her hands and flip through the pages. For the shelves that were closer to the ceiling, she located a footstool. Before climbing up, she slipped off her heels to avoid falling.

There was no one to catch her this time.

She flashed back to that day in his castle, when spring was approaching and she tried opening the curtains. Even though he warned her the curtains were nailed down, she pulled too hard and had fallen into open air. Rumpel had caught her in his arms. She smiled now as she remembered the dazed look on his face. That had been back when they were first falling in love.

So many people had expressed their condolences for the loss of Rumpel, more out of respect than genuine grief. The Charmings', Red and Granny, the dwarfs, Archie...Only Bae shared her sadness. Despite the pain, there was a place in her heart that sensed he was not gone forever. Maybe it was hope. She held onto it fiercely.

_If you are out there, Rumpel, _she thought as she stepped down from the footstool, _I will find you again. I have a feeling this isn't the end of our story. _


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. There will be plenty of Rumpel, Belle, and even Bae from here on out. As I said before, this story will probably not follow the path of the show too closely. For one thing, I don't intend to kill off Bae. He also will not be sharing a body with his father. I think his death scene was very well-presented and he did die a hero in my opinion, but I won't be using that particular plot device in this story. With that being said, I hope you enjoy reading the next chapter. **_

_**Also, I don't know about you, but I will never get used to seeing Bae's face coming out of Rumpel's head. I've seen a lot of weird stuff on this show and that one is definitely high on the list. I'm thankful that Belle never witnessed it. **_

Rumpel never found it particularly easy to admit when others were right, but it was inifinitely worse when Zelena was right. As the Dark One, he could not die from starvation, but, oh, the going was rough. The hunger pains attacked his belly and it wouldn't stop growling. One might mistake it for a feral dog at this point. His muscles grew weaker from loss of energy, a headache began to pulse behind his eyes, and his mouth was so dry...

A sip of water would be heavenly...

Even his inner protests were few and far between. _No, _he repeated inside his head, but it was harder to abide by logic. _Accepting food from someone like Zelena is madness. Feed on madness and it will feed on you, _he thought nonsensically.

Time and again, he tried to stave off the hunger by losing himself in his memories-and often fantasies-of Bae and Belle, but the hunger was getting harder and harder to ignore. The memories and fantasies he once cherished took a dark turn, his mind becoming corrupt by madness. They began to mock him, taunt him with all the things he wanted to do with Belle and Bae, things he might never be able to do again. Having burgers with Belle, watching Bae make that genuine, lopsided grin, kissing Belle...

That was where his memory ended and the fantasy took over.

It was pathetically easy to get swept away in that delicious fantasy. A new, insatiable hunger consumed him, one more demanding and fueling the madness gnawing away at his brain. Instead of the bars of the cage, he saw his shop, the back room where no one else dared to tread. He pictured Belle in one of her modest yet flattering blue dresses. She lounged in the circle of his arms, her soft red lips slightly parted. He stole a gentle kiss. She eagerly kissed back, her breath warm on his bottom lip. He felt her shudder from pleasure in his arms, her hand cupping his neck to urge him down to her.

In his memory, there was always a point where they stopped. In his fantasy, there was no such barrier.

He kissed her harder than before, pouring forth all his passion until she mewed as sweetly as a kitten. She opened herself up to him and he gladly took everything she offered. Together they would fall atop the bed, her blue dress stripped away and tossed aside. Gods, she was beautiful. He ravenously licked his lips, only to find them painfully dry, coarse as sandpaper. It wasn't a good idea to give into this sort of hunger, either, but his vision of Belle beckoned to him. Her bare flesh slid across his, smooth and hot to the touch. The moans that fell from her mouth were music to his ears, especially when those moans were heavy with his name. A deep, tight pressure invaded his abdomen, incessantly throbbing...

"Belle..." He murmured. White light penetrated his vision. His nerves exploded with indescribable pleasure as he felt himself finally surrender to the fantasy completely.

"Am I interrupting something..._dearie?" _

That irritating, arrogant voice of his captor was the equivalent of a bucket of ice being poured down his back. All of the pleasurable sensations conjured by his fantasy of Belle evaporated. What was even more embarrassing, mainly because it inspired that disgusting smirk on Zelena's face, was the fact that his hand had spawned a mind of its own and crawled between his legs while he was trapped in the throes of his fantasy. He was still throbbing.

"Tell me, Rumpel, what lucky woman brought about such passion in you? I'm sure that even Kansas heard your cries of ecstasy. And so early in the morning, too."

She clucked her tongue reprovingly and he fantasized about ripping it out. How would it feel to have that wriggling pink organ in his fist or to stomp his boot on it? She would do wonders if she were paired up with the Sheriff of Nottingham.

"Let me save you the trouble of fashioning a hat big enough for your head: that lucky woman would never be _you_," he snarled. His voice was scratchy from disuse and dryness of throat. He sounded more like a beast than he ever had in his Dark One form. He tried to stealthily move his hand away from his legs, but he knew Zelena detected his every move.

The smirk crumbled into dust on her lips. Removing the cursed dagger from her cloak, she dragged the tip across the bars. It made an awful rattling noise.

"Who are you fighting so hard for?" If he didn't know any better, he'd say she was jealous. Envy was an old, bitter acquaintance of hers. Zelena was so deprived of affection that she sucked it up like a sponge whenever the chance presented itself.

Belle's name hovered on his tongue, but he forcibly bit down on it. Uttering Belle's name would mean placing her directly in Zelena's crosshairs, if she wasn't there already. That was something he would never do, no matter how much suffering he endured.

Of course, not thinking of Belle was a difficult feat to accomplish. When someone tells you not to think about a blue elephant, it is only inevitable that a blue elephant comes to mind.

"Who says I'm fighting for anyone?" He refused to glance down at his hand and be reminded that it had fallen between his legs only moments before. "I'm an imp, selfish and self-serving."

The dagger stopped skating over the bars. The tip of the blade poked through the bars, pointing at him accusingly.

"What you are, my dear Rumpel, is silver-tongued. You speak so convincingly when it suits you. Fighting so hard...and for what? What in this world or the next could ever be worth so much suffering?"

The dagger was tucked back inside the folds of her cloak. Her gloved hand bloomed and a mysterious black globe, no bigger than an apple, materialized in her palm. Ominous emerald smoke swirled in its depths, moments before Belle's face appeared. His body trembled with shock and his heart violently skipped a beat.

_Belle..._

"Is it because of her?" Zelena sneered down at Belle's glowing image. Rumpel acted on instinct and gripped the bars, shaking them in his fury, causing Zelena to take a cautionary step backward. And yet, she cackled. "I'll take that as a yes. She's so beautiful, isn't she? Beautiful, delicate, _normal_. She's living in your house, you know. The pink one, is it?"

Salmon. Not pink. Why did everyone in town have trouble distinguishing one from the other?

He was surprised to hear that Belle was living in his house, even after she had witnessed his sacrifice. He didn't object to it, but he was taken aback by the comforting images flooding through his head. Belle fixing up breakfast in his kitchen, Belle curled up in a chair with a good book in her lap, Belle waking up with the dawn in his bed...

Those pleasurable feelings stirred below his waist again. He shoved those images into the back of his mind. There was no need to repeat that humiliating weakness in front of Zelena.

"She...what?" Did Belle even sense that he was alive again? If not, it made sense that she would want to remain close to him in some form. She belonged there as much as he did.

"Oh, yes," Zelena purred. "Prancing around your halls, gorging on the food in your kitchen, sleeping in your bed, mourning over the luxurious items you've acquired. Perhaps I'll pay her a visit."

Zelena tapped the globe and the image of Belle changed. It showed her in his library, climbing a stepladder to dust the shelves. Some habits were hard to break. He nervously waited for her to misstep and tumble off the ladder, but Belle was graceful, rising and descending without so much as a tilt.

The thought of Zelena anywhere near Belle sickened him worse than the hunger.

"I swear, if you lay a hand on a single strand of hair on her head..." His threat was empty and it aggravated him to no end to realize it. So long as he was imprisoned in so cruel a manner, Zelena could paint the town red with Belle's blood if she so desired.

"You'll...what?" Zelena cocked her head, feigning ignorance. She knew perfectly well the extent of the power she held in the palm of her hand. People with power tended to wield that power. "Fight all you want, Rumpel. That fire will die out eventually. Mark my words." The globe darkened, Belle's face submerged in the emerald smoke within. "Do you love her?"

He did not answer. _Love is weakness, _as Regina so often proclaimed, though he never entirely believed that to be true. Love was very powerful indeed, but it would prove harmful to Belle's safety. His love for her could very well cost her life.

Zelena placed the globe outside of his cage, just beyond his reach. He imagined getting ahold of it and using it to communicate with Belle. It was then he knew that this was another method of torture devised by Zelena-tempting him with an unreachable key to the outside world.

"I'll leave this here with you. A gift, so that when I do visit your dearly beloved Belle, you'll be watching." His eyes remained glued on the empty black orb, even as Zelena swept from the cellar. The darkness swallowed it, but he still sensed it there, waiting to serve its purpose. He wondered how much time would pass before Belle's face would reappear.

_Tick, tock, tick, tock..._

...

A half hour. More specifically, twenty-eight minutes and counting. That was how long it took for Zelena to make good on her threat of paying Belle a not-so-friendly visit and for the globe to glow in the darkness.

It started off as a tiny pinpoint of green, barely visible. Then it became a swirling vortex of light not too far from his cage. It was far enough that his arm constantly fell across the floor whenever he stretched to reach the globe, his nails scraping over the cement. Belle's face illuminated the globe. It was a marvelous, heart-wrenching sight that he could never remove his eyes from at any cost. Her slender body was wrapped snugly in a dark blue dress. The shade of it set her eyes on fire with beauty and brilliance.

All he could do was grip the bars and watch Belle open the door to Zelena. His stomach twisted in knots at that deceitful, smug look. She'd been telling the truth-Belle was staying in his house. He recognized the stained glass window in the front door, the sunlight casting rainbows over the hallway.

The first snippet of their conversation flowed from the globe and Rumpel gritted his teeth, concentrating on not hearing it. A chant of _no, no, no _escaped his raw throat as Zelena all but tried to push her way into Belle's sanctuary. He couldn't bear to witness her ruin one of the few golden gems in the pile of misfortune that was his existence.

Impulsively, he snatched up one of the silver dog bowls from the floor of his cage and he thrust it through the bars. It took a bit of angling and kicking, but he managed to shove it through the narrow space. Then he flung it. It collided with the globe and made it roll even farther from his cage. When it stopped rolling, he noticed a short, thin crack in the surface of the globe where the bowl had struck. Currently, the crack marred Zelena's pale forehead.

He hoped she felt that.

...

After such a tiresome day of cleaning, Belle decided to use this new day for relaxation. Later on she would have to venture out to her library to spruce it up after having been gone so long, but for the moment she was content to enjoy the morning. She fixed herself some breakfast-blueberry muffins, pancakes, and a cool glass of milk from the fridge. It was easy to accomplish now that she had false memories to rely on, though she could not imagine Lacey preparing breakfast this way. Then she curled up in one of the rose-colored armchairs in the living room and settled into a good book.

She only turned the third page when a knock came from the front door. The satin ribbon marked her place in the book and she frowned thoughtfully. Who would be knocking at the door so early in the morning? Bae? The Charmings?

Belle set the book on a nearby table and went to answer the door. Out of habit and countless warnings in the past from Rumpelstiltskin, she first peered through the window to catch a glimpse of the visitor. She saw a mass of curly red hair and a thin figure clad in a forest green dress. Whoever it was, she did not recognize the unexpected visitor. As she debated whether to open the door or not, another knock echoed throughout the house.

She made a quick decision and pulled open the door.

"Hello," Belle hesitantly greeted. The woman looked rather ordinary, but Belle knew from experience never to judge a book by its cover. "Can I help you?" The woman flashed her a wide, white grin.

"My apologies for disturbing you at this early hour. I don't believe we've met. I'm Zelena." The woman-Zelena, apparently-offered her hand. Belle didn't want to come off as rude, so she politely accepted it. Zelena's hand was firm and cold to the touch. Belle took her hand away before Zelena was even finished shaking it. "You must be...Rumpelstiltskin's wife?"

Zelena spread her hands and gestured to the magnificent manor that once belonged to Storybrooke's most feared resident. Belle crossed her arms uncomfortably as a wave of sadness struck her heart. Somehow, she could not let go of the feeling that Rumpel was not truly gone, but it was still difficult to be reminded that he wasn't with her.

"No, I'm not." _Unfortunately, _she added in her head. She would have been honored to bear such a title. "He and I are true loves, but we haven't discussed marriage yet." Zelena's brow furrowed and it was only after she spoke that Belle realized she hadn't used the past tense.

"I am so sorry," Zelena said, pressing a hand to her chest. "Please accept my condolences. I heard about his heroic sacrifice. Such a brilliant, charming man...The world won't be the same without him." Confusion passed over Belle. She had no idea who the woman was and had never heard her name before. Rumpel certainly never mentioned any _Zelena. _Very few people in town spoke highly of Rumpelstiltskin before his sacrifice.

"Did you know him?" She studied Zelena up and down curiously. Did this woman possess magic as well? Had she been one of Rumpel's students or...an old lover? Or both? Zelena's face softened, her eyes became downcast, and Belle wondered if she was on the verge of shedding a tear.

"I did in the Enchanted Forest, but it was so very long ago. He and I were old friends, practically inseperable until..." The frown on Zelena's face deepened until it bordered something angry and resentful. Belle shifted her feet, taking a careful step back into the house. Zelena's smile snapped back into place. "Well, never mind that. Old wounds and all that. I'll bet I can tell you stories about Rumpelstiltskin that you wouldn't even believe. Trust me when I say I understand what you're going through. If you ever need someone to talk to, perhaps let out a few pent-up emotions, I credit myself for being a good listener. I'm terribly sorry for your loss."

Zelena bowed her head respectfully and retreated down the walkway. Belle had to admit that she appreciated the woman's condolences and offer of comfort. Most people in town reassured her that everything would be alright, that they understood what she was going through without really understanding, that she should be proud of Rumpelstiltskin for dying in such an honorable way. She had never known any of them to offer to talk, even when it was something she most needed to do to heal the pain. Only Bae did that.

"Would you like to come in?" She called out to Zelena's back. Zelena paused halfway down the path and turned back, eyebrows raised in question or surprise. "I was about to make myself a cup of tea, but I could always make enough for two."

Zelena's gaze wandered between Belle and the street. She looked to be contemplating whether to stay. Then she headed back up the path.

"I suppose I have time for one cup and a good story," she agreed. Belle opened the door wider. Zelena's heels clacked on the pavement, reminding Belle of the unnerving sound Regina often made whenever she appeared. Zelena's face brightened all of a sudden and she snapped her fingers. "Oh, but you've been through so much. You poor thing. If you wish, I could make the tea while you take a load off. Rumpel always said I made a wicked cup of tea."

Zelena's feet reached the threshold. She was nearly standing toe-to-toe with Belle when some immovable force prevented her from taking that last step into Rumpelstiltskin's house.

"What the hell?" Zelena muttered under her breath. A magical ward suddenly flickered and became visible between Zelena and Belle, shimmering as though encrusted with diamonds. No matter how Zelena pushed against it, the ward stayed intact and barred her entrance. When she placed her palms flat on it, the ward singed her skin. Zelena hissed and recoiled from the magical barrier. All the while, Belle was safe inside, closed off from her reach.

Belle looked from the ward to the strange woman standing beyond it. In that moment, saw her in a whole new light, though it was not a friendly one. There was something wrong and dangerous about Zelena. Clearly, she was not welcome in Rumpelstiltskin's abode.

"What are you really doing here?" Belle demanded. She took another step back, just in case there was a way for Zelena to break through the ward. An instinctual alarm rang out in Belle's brain, warning her to be very careful in the way she handled Zelena. "Those wards are in place to prevent anyone that means harm from ever entering."

Zelena's expression darkened. There was no more sympathy or cheerfulness in store for Belle. Her top lip curled and instantly Belle understood that she was looking upon Zelena's true face, teeming with utmost revulsion. She gave Belle a long, distasteful once-over before swooping as close as she dared to the magical ward.

"I never understood what he saw in a goody-two-shoes bookworm like you," she spat. There was no question about who _he _was, though Belle sincerely doubted there was any love lost between Zelena and Rumpelstiltskin. Her words were laced with malice enough to give Belle the hint that there was something rotting inside Zelena's heart.

Zelena whipped away from the ward and cloaked herself in a flume of emerald fog. When it cleared, she was nowhere to be seen. Belle wasn't foolish enough to believe that she was free of danger yet. She wondered why Zelena had chosen this moment to strike out against her. No doubt that her "wicked cup of tea" would be spiked with poison or a dreadful curse. Belle watched the ward fade. It was still there, but invisible to the eye. The wards had been cast so long ago by Rumpelstiltskin, to ensure his and her safety while in that house. The wards enchanted every door and window.

She quickly closed the door and bolted it. Resting her back against the door, she retrieved her cell phone from one of the pockets of her dress and scrolled through it until she located Bae's number. Her nerves became increasingly jumbled as the dial tone buzzed in her ear and she found herself glancing at every inch of the hallway, as if she expected Zelena to pop up from around the corner.

Bae answered on the third ring, right before it went to voicemail.

"Belle," he greeted happily. They had become so close since his and Rumpel's return from Neverland, treating their relationship in the form of stepson and stepmother. After Rumpelstiltskin was gone, he was the only one she could really talk to about the grief she endured. "What's up? I'm still sorting through the stuff in my father's shop. Did you know he kept an extra suit in the black armoire in the back?"

She felt some of her anxiety drain away as she pictured that ancient black armoire, which usually held the objects Rumpel considered most important in his shop. It was where he liked to keep their chipped cup if he had it with him in his shop and she remembered his tendency to keep an extra suit in there, "just in case."

"I'm sorry to bother you, Bae, but there's something we need to discuss. I'd rather do it in person. Do you think you could come over, as soon as possible?" She hoped he wouldn't ask her to meet him somewhere public, like Granny's Diner. It wasn't that she was afraid to leave the confines of Rumpelstiltskin's house or to give Zelena a piece of her mind, but she didn't want to chance it if Zelena was camping out somewhere close by for the opportunity to strike again. She wanted to play it safe until she knew more about the threat Zelena posed.

"Of course," Bae replied almost instantly. Belle suspected he had made a vow to honor his father's memory by taking care of her in his absence. He had been protective of her ever since Rumpel's sacrifice. "I'll be there in five minutes. What's going on? You sound spooked."

Belle allowed herself to push away from the front door and wander to the living room. She peeked through the curtains, but found no red-heads lurking outside on the lawn. Her mind was itching for a book that would supply her answers about Zelena or her ill intentions.

There was no easy way to explain the incident that had taken place, so she simply laid the truth on the table.

"I think someone just tried to kill me."

...


	5. Chapter 5

No one could compete with Regina when it came to rage. Since he was the only one that did not cower before her, Rumpel was often subjected to tedious moments where Regina would storm into his shop and complain about whatever thorn was lodged in her side that day.

At first, he tried to demand her to leave-if she wanted someone to share her misery with, she could easily plant her rear end on Archie's couch-but that only seemed to make her rage even more. She was like a ticking bomb that was bound to go off; all he could do was prepare for the blast. Eventually he learned to tune her out and let her go on her tangent. Once she was empty of rage, she would quickly grow bored and leave of her own accord.

Oh, but when she was in the midst of her rage, he feared for the breakable items in his shop. Some days he expected her to burn the entire forest down just to cool off. And he thought _he _had issues with containing his temper. Compared to Regina's tantrums, which had the power of a volcano erupting, his moments of anger were rather sane.

No one could compete with her...except for her half-sister.

As dazed as Rumpel was by intense hunger and exhaustion, half-slumped in his cage, he heard Zelena coming long before she stepped into the storm cellar. For one thing, it sounded like an actual cyclone was brewing outside. The wind whistled and shrieked beyond the cellar doors. Without warning, the doors blew open and Zelena stomped down the stairs. He never even knew that there was a lightbulb hanging from the ceiling until it blinded him with light and then exploded into a million fragments.

Focusing on her through the bars, he could swear that mass of curls was starting to rise and coil like Medusa's snakes. Not that he ever cared to introduce himself to Medusa. He always felt he wouldn't make a good statue. Truthfully, he didn't even know if the Dark One could be subdued by being turned into stone. Of course, he didn't know how it felt to be hit by a speeding car, either, and he wasn't about to leap into oncoming traffic to find out.

For a good minute or so, Zelena was preoccupied with rapid pacing and seething. A deep growl issued from her throat. Every now and then, she would push her hands outward and a blast of magic would result in a new hole in the wall.

She kept going in and out of focus as dizziness swept over him, but he immensely enjoyed her tantrum all the same. Despite how fearsome her rage was, it was a good sign in the long run. He'd be more concerned if she skipped her way merrily into the cellar with a rainbow following in her wake.

"I take it...you did not get what you wanted," he panted. He rolled his head lazily over the bars to keep her in his line of sight. Her glare all but confirmed it. That meant Belle was alive. He still had something worth fighting for beyond this hell.

Her and Bae..._My two candles in this ocean of darkness. Let them keep burning, _he prayed desperately.

Zelena fixed her icy eyes on him through the bars of his cage. If looks could kill...well, he was already hidden several feet under the earth. Those feisty red lips were twisted in a despicable pout and her fingers curled and uncurled, itching for something to strangle. An explosion echoed in his ears-another hole in the wall.

"Even when I lock you away in a cage, you manage to humiliate me," she snarled. Her foot struck the door of his cage, making it rattle. "You failed to mention that there are wards around your little pink house. Wards, quite conveniently, I cannot seem to break. How can that be?"

She surveyed him suspiciously, as though she assumed he found a way past her anti-magic chains. He had forgotten about the wards he placed over the house. It was meant for Belle's protection, not his own. He also knew the reason for Zelena's failure to shatter the wards and couldn't help being smug about it.

"When I cast those wards, I did so out of my true love for Belle. True love is the most powerful magic. Even more powerful than yours."

The downward twitch to Zelena's lips warned him that she did not appreciate his gloating. He waited for another hole to form in the wall, but she appeared to be riding on the final wave of her anger.

"Those wards will only protect her while she stays in your house. She has to come out sometime. I can't risk having her run through the town crying witch."

It was clear that her failure to kill Belle had created a brand new issue for her, one that she intended to resolve as quickly as possible. Rumpel began to worry for Belle again. He could take comfort from the wards offering her protection whilst in the house, but the rest of Storybrooke lacked that protection. Not even his shop had wards, a detail he regretted deeply now.

His Belle was far too brave to shut herself inside the house after Zelena's attack. She would seek answers and she would sacrifice the protection of the wards in order to find those answers. It was only a matter of time.

Zelena strode over to the orb to collect it. She grimaced anew when she saw the fracture in the glass. Her nail traced over it.

"You ruined my favorite looking glass," she moaned loudly. He showed no signs of remorse. Zelena tucked the circular object inside her cloak and headed for the stairs.

He wondered if she would perform an Emma-style stakeout outside his house with coffee and donuts. He seriously doubted she had the patience for it. That was another thing she had in common with Regina, other than being born from the same womb: both women were exceedingly impulsive.

"Wait," he called out, his voice barely a rasp. The grating quality of it made him wince with shame. Zelena turned around with her eyebrows perked. He licked his chapped lips and tried a second time to speak. "May I have...more water?"

He tilted his head weakly to the silver bowl on the floor. Making such a request required him to swallow his pride, but his thirst dominated. He was so incredibly thirsty that even his bones felt like they were being ground into dust whenever he dared to move.

Zelena's anger was replaced with surprise and then satisfaction.

"You're giving in," she taunted.

Rumpel gripped the bars for an instant, but then his hand fell limp in his lap. Even that tiny bit of effort was too much to bear. The fingers of his other hand mindlessly picked at the blood-crusted wound brought about by the dagger. The cloth that he tied around it, torn from his own shirt, was becoming loose again.

"I am not giving in to you," he argued as vehemently as he could. "I am simply...satisfying my body's requirements for survival." Zelena rolled her eyes haughtily.

"Word it any way you wish," she said, narrowing her eyes. They both knew he was not as strong of will as he was when she first tossed him in that cell. She flicked her wrist and fresh water pooled inside the silver bowl, as did fresh food in another. "Drink up, dearie."

He didn't need a command from the dagger in order to obey. Ignoring the food, he dove for the silver bowl of water, carefully lifting it into his hands so that he did not spill a single drop. He brought the bowl to his lips and drank deeply. The water flowed into his mouth, so cool and crisp that it bit into his tongue. It was the best water he ever had the pleasure of tasting, a stream of heavenly moisture making its way down his parched throat. He drained the entire bowl and madly licked it clean afterwards.

_Feed on madness...and it will feed on you..._

He let the bowl clatter on the ground. Suddenly he did not seem so satisfied by the reward of water. Each hour he could feel his defenses weakening. Each time Zelena appeared in the darkness, he was more inclined to beg for nutrition and mercy like a poor, starving boy. He was once more powerful than her, but now the tables had turned.

_What's wrong with me? _He thought miserably as his tongue roved over his lips to suck up any remaining moisture. Was he truly giving in? Was he doomed to go mad in that pit of darkness? _Belle...please...find me..._.

_..._

Belle poured herself a hot cup of tea to settle her nerves just as a knock came from the front door. She took a small sip of tea and already felt her mind start to ease.

When she went to answer the door, she paused. What if it was Zelena again? What if she found a way to break through the wards? It could be Bae on the other side, but it wouldn't hurt to be one hundred percent sure. _Better safe than sorry, _she recited the familiar mantra in her mind.

"Who is it?" She called through the door, all the while keeping her back pressed up against it. A heartbeat of silence passed, with her fingers firmly wrapped around the handle of the door.

"It's Bae," came the confused reply. "Were you expecting someone else?"

It sounded like Bae, but she did not accept it just yet. The door remained closed and locked. Being around Rumpel served to teach her many things about magic. She knew that powerful magic users could shift their appearance and take on the form of someone else.

"Prove it," she challenged back. A few more beats of silence slipped by. She imagined Bae to be shuffling his feet and struggling for some piece of information that would convince her.

"I remember that you weren't you when we first met. You had fallen over the border and lost your memories. You assumed the personality of a scantily-clad barfly named Lacey. I remember my father loved you so much that he put up with the company of that girl until he found a way to bring you back."

It was good enough. Belle opened the door and immediately accepted Bae into her arms. He crossed the threshold without once being stopped by the invisible ward. He let Belle take comfort from their embrace before squirming away to stare directly into her blue eyes.

"What happened? On the phone, you said someone tried to...kill you?"

Belle frantically checked over his shoulder and ushered them inside. If Zelena was still lurking close by, she didn't want to risk her eavesdropping. She closed the door tightly and locked it. Then she led Bae down the hall to the kitchen.

"I just made myself a cup of tea. Would you like some?" She glanced at Bae over her shoulder as she walked. He shrugged loosely.

"I'm more of a coffee guy," he said softly. She could tell he was trying to stay polite for her sake. "It comes from living in New York for so long. I've taken a liking to Starbucks."

Belle tilted her head in confusion. Even though she had gained false memories due to Lacey's personality inhabiting her body, there were some things in this world she remained unfamiliar with. Starbucks was one of the things she did not understand. _The only sense I can make of a name like Starbuck is from the story of _Moby Dick, she thought. _I wonder if this Starbucks is related. _If she had more time on her hands, she would ask Bae all about it.

"Belle," Bae said urgently. He gently took ahold of her elbow. They had just stepped into the kitchen, but all desire for tea went out the window. Bae's face was pinched with pure concern. "What is going on?"

She sighed. It was time to tell him.

"Right before I called you, a woman knocked on the door. I've never seen her before, but there have been new people in town lately. Her name was Zelena."

She took a moment to gauge Bae's reaction to the name. It didn't seem to ring a bell with him, either. Somehow Zelena knew Rumpel, but it must have been after Bae fell through the portal.

"At first, she was polite and offered her condolences for Rumpel's sacrifice. She said she was a good friend of his, but I believe that was an exaggeration on her part. She said she wanted to comfort me, make me a cup of tea. The wards that Rumpel placed around the house prevented her from entering. That was when I saw her true face. Whoever this woman is, she's vicious and dangerous. She told me...she never understood what he saw in someone good like me."

"You mean my father," Bae filled in the blank. Belle nodded once. She could not deny that Zelena's barb hurt. Deep down, she knew that the love she shared with Rumpel was strong and true, that she was his light in the darkness, but to hear her mention him in such a cold way...it stung her heart.

Bae must have detected her growing distress since his hands held her steady by the shoulders.

"Belle, forget everything that witch said to you. I know why my father cherished you so much. You are brilliant, brave, selfless, pure of heart...everything he strived his whole life to be. You had the strength to see the good that was left in him and brought it to the surface. If it wasn't for you, he'd still be hopelessly trapped in the darkness."

An alarming thought hit her suddenly. She had been puzzled over Zelena's purpose for trying to kill her even after Rumpel was gone. Now she felt a crucial piece of the puzzle snap into place.

"Bae, what if he's still alive?"

She remembered the feeling she had before, that he wasn't truly gone. It might have been denial, but it could have easily been hope. If a person's true love died, wouldn't they feel it in their heart? Wouldn't they know that they would never meet again?

Belle didn't feel that way at all.

Bae did not share her mounting hope. Instead, he gazed down at her with pity.

"I know it hasn't been easy to accept that he's gone. He is your true love, after all. You should be proud of him for finally doing the honorable thing before his death. Remember him that way," Bae advised, but she stood her ground.

"It doesn't feel like he's gone. There's a part of me that feels he's out there somewhere and we need to find him. Why else would Zelena attempt to kill me now? What purpose would it serve if he was already dead?"

Bae spread his hands wide by his sides.

"I don't know! I'm not an evil witch, therefore I find it difficult to think like one. Maybe...she's envious you had his love and respect in the first place. For all we know, she could be one of my father's scorned lovers from way back when. Apparently, he had a lot of those."

Belle knew that the women Rumpel fell in love with in the past were the ones to scorn him, not the other way around. It was one of his quirks that frequently led to his undoing-when he fell for a woman, he fell hard. Likewise, he found it to be a challenge to let them go. Milah, Cora, possibly Zelena...women that had earned his love and proceeded to stomp on it.

Only she had found it in her heart to reciprocate his love.

With her heart thrumming wildly in her chest, she knew without a doubt that Rumpel was alive. She knew it just like she knew the sun would rise in the morning. And Bae was slowly crumbling in his defiance.

"Let's try using a finding spell to locate him," she suggested desperately. Bae bounced on his toes while he considered it. "If it doesn't work, then it will be proof that he is gone forever." If it did work, then it was proof Rumpel was alive in Storybrooke and it would provide her an opportunity to find him.

Bae inhaled sharply, then released the breath through his nose. Using magic was not a favorable solution to him after watching his father become consumed by it, but he could not fault her logic. If anything, it would give her the closure she needed.

If it didn't work.

"Alright," he finally agreed. He looked nervously toward the front door. "Of course, most of my father's bottled magic is in his shop. I understand if you don't want to leave-"

Before he was finished talking, Belle was already slipping her arms into the sleeves of a light blue sweater, taken from one of the chairs in the kitchen. She refused to let Zelena frighten her into being holed up in the house. If making the trip to Rumpel's shop would ultimately aid her in finding him again, she would go without hesitation.

Before leaving, she made sure to take their chipped cup from the cabinet. Something deep within her heart warned her she would need it.

...

They reached the pawnshop unharmed. No witches swooped down to attack. While Bae checked over his shoulder every now and then, Belle kept her eyes forward, her feet taking determined steps until she unlocked the door of the shop.

She always loved walking into Rumpel's shop. It was a miniature world of its own, filled with endless wonders that she hadn't yet discovered. On this particular day, the sight of that shop brought her as much sadness as it did wonder. Without the presence of its owner, the shop felt like it was missing something. The heart of its grandeur was gone and there were signs that the shop had suffered. A fine layer of dust coated the antiques and dust motes danced in the dim sunlight streaming through the windows. The air was cold inside the shop, as if it were stuck in an eternal winter.

Belle pocketed the keys and hurried behind the counter that hosted the old register. Gently she placed the chipped cup on top of it. Underneath the counter was a small space where special items were stored. There was a thin black box that contained the catalog of cards, each card branded with the antiques pawned in the past and the name of the person associated with it. There was also a large mahogany chest and Belle hoisted that up from below. She set it on the counter. Inside the chest was a collection of Rumpel's bottled magic, various spells that were safely kept inside glass vials.

She flipped open the lid and was glad to see her memory had not failed her. She had witnessed Rumpel expertly handle these vials, delicately, in the same manner she treated the books in her library.

Bae sidled up to her side behind the counter and peered into the box of vials. There were four neat rows of them, numerous spells that only the creator knew what to do with. It was clear that Bae was inexperienced with magic, as a child would be inexperienced with a loaded gun. Belle did not know very much about the use of magic, either, but she knew enough to seek out a certain spell among the pack.

"If we want to find Rumpel-"

"Assuming he's alive," Bae interjected.

Belle's fingers stopped roaming over the tiny capped vials. She gave Bae a mournful look and found herself wishing that he would have a little more hope. Part of her understood the source of his doubt, though. For centuries, he'd been without his father, alone and seemingly abandoned in a world unknown. Perhaps he did not want to get his hopes up if it meant having to accept that his father wasn't coming back at all.

She covered his hand atop the counter and tension rippled through his shoulders.

"Sorry," he apologized quietly. "You were saying?"

He stared at her from under his eyelashes. All of a sudden, she caught a glimpse of the young boy he used to be. If they ever found Rumpel alive, she hoped they could be a family together. In the little time she had known Bae, she had come to respect him as her unofficial stepson.

"If we want to find Rumpel," she repeated patiently, "then what we need is a finding spell. Using it on something of Rumpel's, especially something sacred like our chipped cup, should be enough to help us locate him."

"If he's in Storybrooke," Bae finished her thought, doubtful once more. Belle had to admit that Rumpel's location may be a cause for concern. What if he wasn't in Storybrooke at all? What if, somehow, he was trapped in the Enchanted Forest? Would the finding spell still respond?

There was only one way to find out.

She and Bae sifted through the box of vials. They would remove each vial from the box to check the labels and place the vials in neat rows on the counter, mimicking their placement in the box. Halfway through, however, they realized they had a serious problem.

"This would be easier if there was a clue written on these labels," Bae pointed out, holding up one vial of red liquid to the light. It could have been blood or it could have been a dangerous spell. There was no way to tell with the label being blank.

Belle had a feeling that the placement of the vials in the box was not random. Rumpel knew every vial and its precise location in the box. No one else was meant to lay hands on the box or his magic, ergo, there were no labels to explain the contents. The answers were sealed inside Rumpel's head, a place in which they currently had no access.

It definitely wasn't an option to test each bottled spell. There was no telling what would happen if these spells were used. What if the vials contained powerful curses like the one that brought everyone to Storybrooke in the first place?

"Unless you're Rumpelstiltskin, you'll need a finding spell to find the finding spell," Bae concluded, resting back on the counter. Belle had really hoped this would be the key to finding Rumpel. Sullenly, she helped Bae deposit every vial in its proper place in the box. "What if we went to someone else for help? Say, Regina?"

Belle nearly hit her head on the counter after placing the box of vials in the space underneath, startled as she was by Bae's suggestion. Even after coming to Storybrooke, Bae had not been exposed to Regina and remained blissfully unaware of the cruelty she was capable of. He knew that Regina was the one to cast the curse, but it was another matter entirely to stare directly into that treacherous void.

Belle had not forgotten the way Regina locked her up for thirty or so years, separated from Rumpel. It was terrible to learn that he thought her dead for all those years, apparently by taking her own life after enduring unspeakable torture by the hands of her own father. Punishment for loving a monster. The only monster was Regina.

It pained her to admit that she occasionally suffered nightmares of being trapped in that cell again. The first night she had reunited with Rumpel and stayed in his house after the curse broke, she had woken him with her moaning and screaming from one of his guest bedrooms. A side effect of the nightmares playing behind her eyelids. That night, he comforted her by letting her sleep in his bed, with his arms protectively cradling her and his voice in her ear to lull her to dreamless sleep.

All of this ran through Belle's head, which ultimately gave a negative shake.

"We'll find another way. I don't trust her," Belle disagreed.

"From what Emma told me, neither do I. I know Regina hurt you, locked you up, and fed my father lies about your supposed death. I'm not asking you to forgive or trust her. I understand if you're reluctant to do that. What I'm asking you...is whether you're willing to do everything it takes to find him."

Belle chewed on the inside of her cheek as she mulled it over. She knew their options were limited, unless they wanted to test each spell in Rumpel's collection in hopes that one would be a finding spell. Regina had the power to make a finding potion. That is, if she was willing to help.

If they were willing to let her.

Today, she was the lesser of two evils.

"I suppose you're right," she said, though she didn't sound convinced even to her ears. Bae gave her a sympathetic look.

"How about if I run to Granny's and get us something to eat for lunch? You can think about our next move while I'm gone or continue searching for something useful in here. You never know what you'll find in the back of my father's shop. Or the front, for that matter."

Belle nodded and watched him head for the door. Once his hand was wrapped around the knob, he turned back, as if suddenly remembering that there was a dangerous witch who wanted Belle's head on a platter. As far as they knew, there were no protective wards over the shop.

Belle waved him onward.

"Don't worry; I'll be fine. Granny's is five minutes down the road," she assured him. Still he fidgeted nervously, uncertain whether to stay or go. "If anything happens, I can use the opportunity to hurl the vials her way and see what they do."

Bae's mouth lifted slightly in light of her humor. He understood the allure of using magic in desperate situations, even if he never developed a liking for all things magic. She could tell the wheels were going in his head when he pointed a finger at her from across the shop.

"Keep your phone on. You have my number on speed dial, right? Okay, and lock this door after I leave. Do not open it for anyone, under any circumstances. If by chance she shows up here, try to barricade yourself in the back and call me immediately if something goes wrong. I'll run back here like The Flash."

Belle cocked her head.

"I'm sorry...the...who?" Bae waved it off, sensing her confusion.

"Never mind."

Belle agreed to every one of his conditions. He would only be gone for a few minutes. The moment he stepped outside the shop, she locked the door and made sure the sign was flipped to _Closed, _to thwart anyone from trying to enter. No one in Storybrooke usually visited, unless they wanted Rumpel's help or had a bone to pick with him. Now that he was gone, the place remained deserted.

After Bae left, Belle double-checked the vials in the mahogany chest, just in case they overlooked one of the labels. No such luck. Only Rumpel possessed the knowledge of the power bottled in those vials. She opened drawers and searched through his contracts and papers, on the off-chance that he left a note concerning the vials in the box. She came up empty-handed.

Through the curtain was the back room, filled with countless antiques that had yet to be presented in the shop, Rumpel's desk, and a spare bed alongside one wall. She fixed herself a cup of tea, since she didn't get a chance to enjoy the one she made this morning. The residents of Storybrooke were used to drinking coffee due to their false memories, but it was a bitter taste she never acquired. Lacey only consumed alcohol and she never wanted to try that again. Iced tea, on the other hand, was fabulous.

While waiting for her tea to be ready, she did a quick sweep of the back room, scanning it for any other magical potions that would lead her to Rumpel. On the shelves, in the drawers of his desk, even in his black armoire where he liked to keep his most precious objects...she checked everything, only to be disappointed.

The shop's bell chimed as she was about to drink the last of her tea. Her first thought was that it must be Bae, back with lunch from Granny's. She set down the almost empty cup of tea and rushed to the curtain to meet him. It was only when she was passing through the curtain that she recalled that she locked the door from the inside.

The keys were still bouncing around in her pocket. She should have had to unlock the door for him.

The curtain parted from her face, giving her a good view of the entire layout of the shop. She froze in her tracks, her fingers clinging to the curtain, her attention instantly drawn to the person standing in the center of the shop.

Cruel, cold eyes framed by red curls.

"Nice little shop he has here," she said, turning toward Belle. It was the same hungry look a lion would give a mouse before devouring its prey. _Zelena, _Belle thought anxiously, with her heartbeat pounding in her ears. "Is that offer for tea still on the table?"

...


	6. Chapter 6

_If by chance she shows up here, try to barricade yourself in the back and call me immediately if something goes wrong. _

Bae made her agree to his conditions, including that one, before he left to get lunch. Belle would have liked to stand and face Zelena, but her instincts warned her it was too dangerous. If Zelena meant to kill her, there was little Belle could do to deflect her, especially if she was capable of using powerful magic.

So, Belle decided to follow Bae's advice. She retraced her steps through the curtain, escaping into the back room. Zelena's dark snickering followed on her heels.

"If it's a game of hide and seek you desire...a game of cat and mouse...so be it," Zelena's voice infiltrated Belle's ears through the curtain.

She frantically scanned the room for something she could use to barricade the door. The shelves, which were nailed to the wall, were covered with small trinkets and antiques. Nothing heavy enough to place in front of the curtain. There was no time to push the desk across the floor.

Her blue eyes landed on the back door. If she could slip out into the alley, she could make a dash for Granny's Diner. There would be plenty of people there, safety in numbers, but more importantly Bae might still be there. In any case, she could no longer stay in this shop and pray for a miracle. She needed to act.

Belle charged for the door, twisted the knob, yanked it open. The first beam of sunlight hit her face and she glimpsed the wall of the opposite building...and the door abruptly slammed closed, denying Belle that freedom. She was startled to see a hand on the door, holding it shut.

There was no point in trying to run, so Belle turned around to face her tormentor, a fresh demand for answers on her lips.

Before Belle could even form the first syllable, Zelena's hand flew away from the door and struck her hard across the cheek. She was momentarily blindsided by the blow, her body veering sharply to the right and her legs buckling beneath her weight. There was a dull throbbing on the side of her head and it took her a moment to realize her head had hit the edge of the desk. Several items toppled around her, including a sheaf of papers, a fountain pen, and a golden genie lamp encrusted with red gems.

Zelena was still coming.

"That will teach you to run from me," Zelena said, her voice as vicious as the hiss of a viper. One, quite alarmingly, that was about to go in for the kill.

_Two can play at that game, _Belle thought, her hand stealthily claiming the lamp by the handle. Normally, she preferred reasoning over any sort of violence, but it was clear that Zelena had no intention of talking reasonably. If she didn't do something to hold her off, Bae would end up losing the woman he saw as his stepmother on top of losing his father.

Belle would not stand for it.

She waited until Zelena got close and even endured the brutal way she was hurled to her feet by her wrist. Luckily, it wasn't the one that held the lamp. Zelena noticed it, but a smirk formed on her lips.

"What are you planning to do with that old lamp? Summon a genie and be granted with three wishes? Unfortunately for you, there are no more wishes to be had from that lamp." She flicked it with her fingers, proving how useless it was. _I never planned on summoning a genie, Zelena, _Belle thought.

This time, Belle was the one to take Zelena by surprise as she smashed the lamp against Zelena's forehead. A gash instantly opened up over her skin, the blood rushing to the wounded area and starting to spill.

Zelena staggered on her feet, releasing Belle in the process. She collided into one of the shelves, losing her coordination temporarily. From the shelf, she fumbled with an ancient silver mirror that was coated in dust and used it to examine the damage. Her fingers probed over the wound and she hissed when the cut stung.

Belle had the urge to run to the back door, but she could not tear her eyes away from Zelena. It was even more eerie to notice the drops of blood tainting one side of the lamp. Zelena's blood. What if she hit her too hard? What if Zelena lost consciousness? What if her vulnerability allowed Belle to wrangle some answers from her?

Just when she thought Zelena was about to faint away from the pain and shock of being hit over the head, the witch raised her hand to the gash and swiped over it. Green tendrils of magic curled through her fingers. When she removed her hand, the wound was gone. There wasn't a single trace of torn flesh or blood to suggest it had been there at all.

In her fury, Zelena shattered the glass in the silver mirror into a million glittering pieces. Belle realized she should have made a run for the door when she had the chance. Now Zelena whirled in her direction, her bitterness renewed, and her boots crunching over the shards of glass as she cornered Belle.

"You wretched girl. You have no idea who you're dealing with."

Zelena's hand flourished toward Belle's chest. A wave of power crashed into Belle, lifting her directly off her feet. The golden lamp tumbled out of her hand.

Instead of hitting the wall or the bed like she expected, Zelena forced her up through the air and her back slammed down over the desk. There was the sound of something rattling near her ear. Belle turned her head to watch the chipped cup spinning closer to the edge of the desk. Her heart leaped into her throat as she quickly reached out to steady it. She couldn't bear it if the chipped cup fell to the floor and broke into countless shards like that mirror.

Their chipped cup...which still had a tiny bit of tea in it...

The next thing she knew, Zelena was bending over her body and squeezing her throat, crushing her windpipe and cutting off her air supply. Belle's mouth fell open and she struggled to suck in air, but the only thing she heard was a weak wheezing sound. Zelena squeezed harder and black dots danced in her vision.

The world was fading away...all she could do was hold onto the chipped cup, though she could not see it clearly anymore...

"Do me a favor," Zelena's voice spiraled through her ear. Belle winced-she didn't want Zelena's voice to be the last thing she heard in this world. "Give my regards to my mother." There was barely any oxygen traveling to her brain. She could not process Zelena's meaning. _Who...? Who...? _ "Her name was Cora."

_Co...ra? _

Belle faintly remembered a woman named Cora, but without the oxygen in her brain, she was unable to fully make the connection. The world was growing so dark...

Somewhere off in the distance, there was the sound of ringing...

"Belle?"

At first, she thought it was Rumpel's voice, calling her and easing her transition from this world. She had been trying to picture his face behind her fluttering eyelids and hear the way he said _I love you. _Perhaps he wasn't alive after all...perhaps he was waiting to greet her at the gates...

But something peculiar happened.

Zelena's hands loosened on Belle's throat. Not completely, but enough for a thin stream of air to pour into her lungs. Belle gasped and sputtered as her lungs began to function again. Zelena came back into view, her red head cocked to listen intently to something beyond the curtain.

"Belle? I'm back with our lunch. Sorry it took so long. I was kind of arguing with Granny over the extra price of pickles on our burgers." _Bae!_ That was the voice she'd heard, but Zelena heard it, too.

The distraction gave Belle the opening she needed. Slowly regaining the strength in her limbs, Belle hoisted up the cup and splashed the remaining pool of tea in Zelena's face. She hoped to blind Zelena long enough to shove her off, but she missed and hit her cheek instead.

For some reason, Zelena appeared to be hurt when the tea wet her skin, even more than when Belle struck her with the lamp. She let out an almost inhuman screech and jolted away from Belle as if she'd been burned. The most frightening part was when Zelena's skin began to blister. How could that be? The tea wasn't scalding hot anymore. It should have been lukewarm or even cold. Belle couldn't understand it, especially when oxygen was just being pumped back into her brain.

Bae hurried through the curtain after hearing Zelena's apparent cry of agony. From the sound of it, he had dropped their lunch and ran. He took one look at Zelena, who was half-bent and clutching her cheek. After sending Belle a single icy glare, she was enveloped in a swirling cloud of green smoke. When it cleared, she was nowhere to be seen.

_The battle is over, _Belle thought, _but not the war. _It wasn't that simple; Zelena would undoubtedly be back.

"What the hell did she do to you?' Bae raced to Belle's side and tenderly prodded the rising bruises on her neck. She flinched when it proved to be sore. With his help, she managed to sit up on the edge of the desk and took slow breaths until she was able to stand without wobbling.

At least the chipped cup was in one piece.

"I agree...with your plan...of enlisting Regina's help," she said between shallow breaths. Bae gave her those mournful puppy eyes that Rumpel always exhibited whenever faced with a personal, tragic matter. They needed to find him and put an end to Zelena as soon as possible.

"Great," he replied. "But for my sake, could you call Emma first and tell her what's going on? Does Storybrooke have a Witness Protection Program by any chance?"

He started to laugh, but the sound died quickly in his throat. Belle nodded and retrieved her cell phone, scrolling through the short list of contacts until she found Emma's cell phone number. It was the fastest way to reach her.

It was about time the others were aware of the problem at hand. After all, this was the second time Zelena attempted to murder her.

...

_It wasn't long before Belle discovered the ballroom in his castle. He supposed he should have expected that, but it had been such a long time since he stepped foot in that particular room that he nearly forgot it even existed. _

_ It was a massive ballroom that would have been perfect for a royal ball or two. The floor was a pale rose color, though it could use a good shine. Golden columns lined the room, spanning from floor to the balconies above. The ceiling was painted with clouds and angels, making the dancers believe they were floating just beneath the heavens. _

_ He never had anyone to share it with, and so he closed the door to that room for what he intended to be forever. One afternoon toward the end of winter, he found that door ajar. _

_ "What are you doing in here?" It wasn't the bellow of a beast, but the gentle curiosity of an inquisitve imp. He pushed the door open and found Belle twirling in slow circles in the center, admiring every inch of the ballroom while her blue skirt fanned out around her legs. _

_ Not for the first time, and probably not for the last, he thought the plain sky blue dress fit her well. It was meant to be a simple maid's dress, but it was quite appealing on her body, the fabric clinging to her curves in all the right places, and the bodice open at the top, enough to give him a teasing peek of the swell of her breasts. He shook his head rapidly to remove those thoughts from his brain. _

_ Belle turned full circle until she faced him and him alone. The surprise flashed through her eyes like blue lightning, but then she smiled warmly. _

_ "I was curious. You always keep this door closed. I wanted to know why." _

_ If there was one thing he learned about Belle since she first entered his castle, it was that her mind thirsted for knowledge. It was her unique form of nutrition, a daily craving, something she could not seem to live without. The way she beheld the ballroom, with wonder and affection, was similar to the way she fancied his library. _

_ "This ballroom is beautiful. Just imagine it with moonbeams and a thorough cleaning. Here, come dance with me." _

_ Belle extended her hand in offering. His spine stiffened and he wondered if he heard her correctly. She wanted to..._dance_...with _him?_ Heat flushed his neck and cheeks and he squirmed in his boots like a young lad confronted by the girl he secretly desired. _

_ "I...I don't know...how to dance very well," he admitted nervously. Even though he resided in a marvelous castle, he was never born a royal. Not even close. He never endured lessons of etiquette or ballroom dancing in preparation for grand balls that would set him up for future marriage opportunities. He certainly never danced with Milah again after that first time. He'd been so anxious, he nearly tripped over his own feet. _

_ Belle wasn't the least bit deterred by his lack of experience. If anything, she was more determined than ever, latching onto his arm and dragging him onto the floor before he could object. _

_ "Then I'll have to teach you. That way, when you meet your true love, you can impress her and sweep her off her feet," she said boldly. _

_ He got the feeling Belle was one of those hopeless romantics. Unfortunately, he didn't believe in true love, at least not in his own miserable life. It didn't exist for people like him, people who made all the wrong choices and thrived in darkness._

_ "Belle, I really don't think this is a good idea," he tried to talk her out of it, to no avail. He was alarmed when she directed his hand in the air and encouraged it to stay there, the palm facing her. Then she held up her own hand, an inch apart from his. _

_ "Do you trust me?" _

_ Rumpel's brows knitted together and a perplexed look crossed his face. He didn't know how to answer that question. There were so many people he trusted in the past-his father, Milah, Cora-and all of them added individual scars to his heart. But Belle..._

_ There was something different about Belle. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something about her made him open up a little more each time they spoke more than two words to each other. Now, for instance, his walls were a tad shorter than he remembered. _

_ "You're not...as untrustworthy as other people I've encountered," he said in his cryptic manner. She took that to mean yes. _

_ With the single instruction that he follow her steps, they began to move together. They circled on the floor, never touching though he swore he sensed some powerful energy passing between their hands, and their eyes were locked. Soon he began to get the hang of the required steps, much to Belle's voiced approval. _

_ "See? You're not so bad, after all. Now comes the next part." She failed to mention it was the part of the dance where they touched for the first time. Her hand firmly clasped his golden one and she brought his other hand to her hip. He forgot how to breathe. _

_ As they started to glide across the floor, a little faster and a whole lot more intimate, he found it harder to stay in command of his emotions. He kept readjusting his hand on her hip and tried not to let his mind stray to other parts of her body his fingers could explore. When his gaze traveled to his feet for the third time, which he was convinced were slow and stumbling, she tapped his chin to warn him to raise it. _

_ "Eyes on me," she reminded him softly. That wasn't hard. Belle was the only thing in the entire room that demanded his undivided attention. _

_ When the steps came easier to him, he started to relax in her arms. She never ridiculed him for doing something wrong. Instead, she pointed out everything he was doing right and repeated those three magical words: _eyes on me. _Together they danced, twirled, swirled beneath the painted clouds like two lovers lost in an enchanting dream. _

_ He wanted to kiss her. _

_ The urge was suddenly there, unrelenting, nagging him until he wondered what she would taste like. Her lips were only a few inches away, slightly parted, and looked as soft as red rose petals. He wanted to pick her up, spin her through the air, and bring her back down, down to his lips. _

_ What would she do?_

_ What would she say?_

_ He didn't care. If he didn't seize this moment now, it would never come again. His hand slipped out of hers, much to her confusion, but then both of his hands were on her waist, hugging her hips, and he was lifting her through the air, spinning her in his arms. His leg didn't give out; it was strong and sturdy. _

_ Her feet met the floor again. _This is it, _he thought and bent his head to steal the kiss he craved more than the air filling his lungs..._

_..._

The kiss never happened. Not just in that time or place, but it never came to fruition at all. Without warning, he was ripped from his memories-well, memory except for the fantasy woven in at the end-as a tremendous wave of ice-cold water splashed him from head to toe.

His eyelids jumped apart and suddenly he was back in the storm cellar, soaked to the bone in his cramped cage. Through the bars, he could just make out Zelena's slender form despite the water clogging his vision.

"Thought you could use a bath. And a wake-up call," she said bitingly, tossing the bucket down by her feet. It was too bad she didn't spill any water on herself. He wiped the water from his forehead and groaned as he shifted in the cold puddle underneath him. "Someone sounds grumpy. Did I interrupt another one of your daydreams about your...how did you used to put it? Ah, yes: _twoo wuv. _Speaking of your _twoo wuv, _look what she did to me."

Even though the open cellar doors offered him some light to see her face, she summoned a fireball. The emerald glow illuminated her face, allowing him to study it fully. There was no missing the ghastly scar on her cheek. It looked like a severe burn, but he was willing to bet that Belle had splashed Zelena with some sort of fluid.

Had she figured out Zelena's weakness and exploited it? Or had it been unintentional?

"You deserve worse," he grumbled through the bars. It wasn't the answer she was hoping to hear. For an instant, she looked like she would be generous enough to dry him off by sending in that fireball, but then her fingers extinguished it.

"She won't get the chance. I was hoping to silence her, to prevent her from warning everyone in town about the wicked witch flying about, but it's bound to unravel now. I have no choice-I need to carry out my plan earlier than I intended."

She rose and anxiously paced back and forth, deep in thought. He understood that she was mostly talking to herself and that she was acting cagier than he was.

"What plan is that?" He took advantage of the opportunity to ask. She hadn't been very forthcoming about what she planned to do with him, though he had a fairly good idea. When someone like Zelena controlled the Dark One, it was never good news.

Zelena turned to meet his gaze through the bars again, her chin hitched high.

"Why did you choose my pathetic excuse of a sister to enact your curse?" He frowned. Was this a trick question? A test of memory? She knew the reason already.

"You loved me," he answered, waving his hand aside to show it was no skin off his nose. _I have that effect on women, _he remembered telling her all those years ago. _Apparently, _he tacked on. He wondered if Zelena would be disturbed by the fact that she and her mother lusted after the same man...and that her mother made the cut. Not her. _Someone else for you to envy, dearie. _

"Precisely," Zelena continued. "I loved you then, when I was your darling pupil. There is a part of me that never stopped, Rumpel." He fought off a wave of nausea. Not from his poor living conditions, but from that notion alone. If she thought he would be flattered, perhaps even relieved or excited, she shouldn't hold her breath.

Gods, she was close to the bars again, and he couldn't do a thing about it. The chains she had placed over him via the dagger wouldn't allow it.

"You were the first man I was drawn to, the first man that recognized the potential I had. Yet you scorned me and selected the runt to cast your curse. She never appreciated the power she had at her fingertips. She never knew what to do with it. But I do."

She fell silent, waiting for the pieces to click inside his sluggish mind. Slowly it dawned on him and with it came a renewed sense of dread.

"You're planning to cast the curse again, to rule over your sister as she has ruled over this town for twenty-eight years." It was what his father eventually tried to do. Cast a new curse, turning the people of Storybrooke into slaves that he could then rule over indefinitely. To his surprise, Zelena chuckled deeply.

"Close, but no. Consider this a variation of your curse. This will bring everyone back to the Enchanted Forest, but I shall rewrite their memories as you once rewrote theirs. I will be their one true queen and Regina will be little more than my servant. Just as it should be."

She was beyond wicked. She was downright twisted. There was only one thing missing.

"To cast a curse of this magnitude, you still need..." That was when the last piece fell into place. Zelena leaned forward and he watched as her eyes crawled over his chest.

"The heart of the thing I love most? Yes, I'm well aware." Her hand slipped between the bars and peeled back his damp dress shirt until his chest was exposed. He thought about biting her hand off, but he was shocked when her hand pressed against his chest. His heart...she would rip it out...crush it..."The last ingredient is right there, beating in your chest, ripe for the plucking."

Thankfully, her hand retreated from his cage. One thousand curses drifted over his tongue, but all he could think about was the one hanging over the heads of everyone in Storybrooke. That was why she had imprisoned him, why she needed him to cooperate, why she wanted Belle out of his mind. And the dagger...

If anyone attempted to stop her from getting what she wanted, she had every chance to transform him into her secret weapon.

"You know, I almost met your son today," she said.

The sharp change in subject caught him off-guard, but the mention of his son sent fresh fire writhing along his veins. If she laid a single finger on his son...but he struggled to remain calm. If she knew how much he valued Bae, he would be another piece of meat dangling in front of the cage. Zelena would find a way to hurt him, somehow, some way.

"They grow up so fast, don't they? Which do you value more-your son or your beloved?"

He didn't answer. He would not bite that hook. Next she might get it in her head to force him to crush the heart of the thing he loved most, cast the curse, and be trapped as her unwilling partner. He would be to her what Graham was to Regina.

Or was she feeding him lies? Was it truly her intention to force him into doing her bidding?

"Don't tell me you were planning on making that little wench his stepmother?"

He gritted his teeth behind his lips, longing to retort with how Belle was no wench. She was a beautiful, brave woman; the hero he could never be; the only woman in this world or the next worthy of his love. It was painful to swallow that lump of words in his throat.

"Why would you favor her, when there is a more suitable choice right in front of you? Think of the magic we could make together. She doesn't even care for it."

Once more, she reached her hand in, this time to stroke his cheek. It was almost loving, but he knew it was part of her deception. Turning his head, he opened his mouth and sank his teeth into her fingers.

She howled like a banshee and tried to pull her fingers from his mouth, but he bit deeper and harder. The coppery taste of her blood filled his mouth and it was only then that he spat her out. None of her fingers were missing, but she would not be able to properly use those fingers until they were healed.

The taste of her blood stayed on his tongue and gums. He spit repeatedly onto the ground and had to wash out his mouth with the new water in the bowl. She tasted worse than the foulest drink in the foulest tavern in the foulest part of the Enchanted Forest. Not that he had much experience with it.

Not that he could remember.

Zelena healed her fingers with a touch of magic and flexed them to be sure they didn't require a double dose of magic. Then she leveled him with a stare that was meant to flay him alive.

"I thought I told you never to harm me again!" In that case, her memory was deceiving her.

"No, you commanded me never to _do that, _as in pulling you against the bars and trying to strangle the life out of you. You were never specific about no biting." She handled him like a bloodthirsty hound, anyway. Zelena sneered and dug out the dagger.

"Well, now I will. No more loopholes. I am a woman that learns from her mistakes, unlike my dreadful sister." She held the dagger high in the air. He already felt the chains tightening. "From now on, Rumpelstiltskin, you will never make a move to harm me again. Contemplate it all you wish, but you will never carry out the deed. In fact, you will worship me. Forget your little Belle."

"No," he murmured desperately, but his memories were growing blurrier by the second, slipping through his fingers. They would not be gone permanently, he knew, but the memories would be buried in a corner of his mind he could not reach. His heart already felt emptier, the world a lot darker.

Catching Belle in his arms, handing her the rose, dancing in the ballroom, sharing their first kiss...No, she wouldn't take that one. He refused it with all his might.

"I will never forget her. She lives in my heart. You may control my brain, but my heart remains a part of me that you will never have. Even if you rip it out and crush it. It never belonged to you." _Only Belle, _he thought, holding on tightly to the memory of her kiss.

In his head, he shared True Love's Kiss with Belle beside his spinning wheel. It did not fade away. Yet.

"We shall see," Zelena said menacingly. Sensing her work was done, she left him to the darkness. The darkness that was inside his mind and not just outside the cage. When he closed his eyes, he tried to recall the memory he'd been consumed by earlier. It was one of his favorite memories...

The ballroom. Yes, that was it. He was dancing in the ballroom with...Zelena? The memory felt contorted, but he was unable to drag up the true one from the depths of his mind. This memory didn't feel right and yet it would not leave him. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and willed it away, but the image was burned into his brain. It was maddening.

Maddening.

The madness fed on his brain and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

_Come dance with me...eyes on me..._

...

_**I sort of like the idea of Belle being the one to teach Rumpel how to dance like he did in Season One's "Price of Gold" (when he danced with Cinderella briefly). I would like to thank those that have read this story so far. I hope everyone is enjoying it. I also want to thank those that reviewed lately: Grace5231973, seablue4u, and LynRward. I appreciate all of the support. **_


End file.
