Please bear in mind that I planned this fic before the episode aired, and before the previews were released, and I did not alter it once they eventually did come out. When I planned this, I did not think of being the Dark One as a curse, and did not think that would be what Regina was referring to.

This is the final chapter of this fic. Since it is now vastly AU, I most likely will not be writing any other sequels or mini-ficlets in this same AU. If I did, however (and don't go getting your hopes up here) I would post them as a separate story. So add me on Author Alert if you like.

I hope you enjoy!

… …

Skin Deep

Chapter 6

By ZionAngel

… …

Even with his new realization, feeling what he feels, all over again, Gold tries not to dwell for the next few days. If anything, he has never been able to think clearly when clouded by emotions, especially with ones as confusing and tumultuous as those Anna stirs within him. He does his level best to let his mind clear, telling himself not to do anything rash until he can really think things through.

But still, in quiet moments, his heart longs for her. He longs to pull her close, tell her how desperately he loves her, kiss her neck and thread his fingers in her hair. And he wonders, too. Wonders how, if things were so wonderful, they might have turned out so terrible in the end.

So, when he has scoured the books she gave him – and he tells himself he cannot feel her energy where she held them in her hands – and has the information he needs, he is far more eager than he should be to return them to her. So, nervous with anticipation, he stuffs the books into an old paper bag, locks up the shop, and sets out towards the library.

The bell above the front door startles him as he enters. He feels like a fool for being so jumpy and nervous, for being so excited, like some foolish teenager, full of longing and desire. He does not see her right away, and so goes wandering through the rows of shelves, searching. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it is she who finds him.

"Were the books helpful?" she asks, taking the heavy bag from him.

"Yes. Quite. I wanted to say thank you, again, for all your help. It made all the difference."

"You're welcome. I'm always happy to help." She smiles at him. She turns and heads toward the stairs, books in tow, to re-shelve them.

Gold takes a deep, shaking breath, swallows a lump from his throat. He follows her. "I was wondering," he says, reaching the top stair, "about something else as well."

"Oh?" She raises an eyebrow. Gold tries not to stare.

"About Belle and Rumpelstiltskin, actually." He forces his voice to stay steady, preparing himself for whatever answer he may receive. "How does their story end? You said it had a very sad ending, but they were both in love. What happened?"

Her smile now is weak and full of sorrow, and she sighs heavily. She opens her mouth to speak, but after several attempts, no words come out. She sighs again, shaking this time, as though she might cry. He grips the handle of his cane until his knuckles are white, to keep from reaching out and brushing her face.

"Sorry," she murmurs, avoiding looking at him. "That story just always gets to me. I don't know why. I get so overinvested in books and these character's lives. It's kind of ridiculous." She laughs at herself. "Sometimes I think I should just start acting like a normal person, make my life a lot easier."

"Why on earth would you want to do that?" he asks with absolute sincerity. He hasn't heard his own voice carry such tenderness in many years. She looks at him, unguarded, unafraid, like no one else ever does, and her eyes seem to bore right through him. "It's what makes you who you are."

She grins sheepishly. "Yeah, well, everybody in town thinks it's pretty weird."

"I think it's wonderful."

Her cheeks flush pink, and she stares at the ground. She hugs the book in her hands to her chest.

"Tell me the end of the story," he says gently.

… …

Belle walks until just before nightfall. She counts herself lucky when she finds an inn along the side of the road, and she spends the night, her cloak draped over the bed for extra warmth. She tries to read by the candlelight, but she can't focus enough to read even a full page before the candle burns down, and she resigns herself to a fitful sleep.

As she wakes again and again in the night, tossing and turning, she tries to decide what to do.

She doesn't intend to leave him. Not forever. Partly, she does not want to go back on her contract, and put her town in the path of danger once again. But more so, she loves him too much to bear the thought of leaving. She only needs some time to herself. Time to think.

She can't understand how someone could be so afraid of loving and receiving love, even someone like Rumpel, who has done so many bad things for so long. She doesn't understand how he can be so utterly, totally blind to the goodness and kindness in his own heart, when it is so plainly obvious to her. She knows that few other people can see it, but she didn't think he would be equally oblivious. It hurts her to see him so afraid and hopeless, leaves an ache deep in her heart. Even now, she doubts only briefly that he loves her in return, or at the very least cares for her very deeply.

As she falls back asleep again, she wonders what kind of horrors in his life could cause such devastating fear and hopelessness in him.

… …

In the morning, Belle wakes, still tired. She pays the proprietor of the inn, and joins the simple breakfast of bread and stew. Then she sets out on the trail, and simply walks.

She walks for hours in no particular direction, never encountering another soul, until, sometime in the early afternoon, she hears the neighing of horses and the clatter of wheels behind her. She turns back to find a cavalry of ebony black horses, pulling a carriage and knights to match. The sight is imposing and radiates power, and on another day, Belle might watch it pass in rapt fascination, wondering what grand royal or dignitary might be riding inside, what kingdom they might be travelling to and why, letting herself imagine that they rode straight out of one of her books. But today, the sight holds no interest for her, not in the face of her inner turmoil, and so she simply moves to the side of the path and continues on.

She barely notices when the cavalry pulls to a stop beside her, until a woman's voice calls to her.

"My goodness, child!" Belle turns, and finds an elegant woman, smiling out at her from the open carriage door. "You're the first soul we've passed in hours. What on earth are you doing all the way out here?"

"I-I'm just traveling," Belle says quietly, and looks toward the path.

The woman looks at her more intently now. "My dear, are you all right? You look positively consumed by despair."

Belle frowns. Is it really that obvious? The woman steps out of the carriage, dressed all in black, ass all the rest, and comes over to Belle. She feels bare and small under the other woman's intense scrutiny. "I'm fine," Belle squeaks out.

The woman tilts her head, and before Belle realizes what's happening, the woman puts an arm around her shoulders and starts walking, pulling her along. "My dear, it's not good to keep these things bottled up inside. Painful emotions only fester and get worse if they are not dealt with. Why don't you tell me what's on your mind? Perhaps it will help you clear your head and feel better."

Suddenly, letting this stranger help lighten her heavy heart doesn't sound like such a bad idea. The more she thinks on it, in fact, the more desperate she feels for a sympathetic ear. "Well…" She sighs heavily, and the woman squeezes her shoulders. "I made a deal with a man some time ago." She supposes it is best not to use his real name, lest his reputation cloud the woman's judgment. "In exchange for defending my home town from a war, I had to live with him as his companion."

"I see, and now you're running away from the brute?"

"No, no!" Belle looks up at the woman, hurt by the very suggestion. "It's not like that. I just… I only needed a day or two to myself to think. I'm going back, I'm just… I'm not sure what to do. And he's not a brute, he's very kind and sweet."

They walk in silence for a few steps before the woman speaks. "And you have come to care for him?"

"Yes," Belle whispers.

"And he for you?"

Belle sighs. "I thought he did… I was sure he must have some feelings for me, but when I tried to tell him… he would have none of it. It's as if…" She thinks, searching for the right words to explain the darkness in him that worries her so. "It's as if something evil has taken root in him."

Without warning, the woman stops walking.

"What?"

She turns to Belle, eyeing her suspiciously. "Did he tell you that no one could ever love him?"

"Yes!"

The woman's eyes darken. "Oh, dear. That sounds precisely like a particular curse I know of. It's exceedingly rare, only a handful of people in the land would even know how to cast it."

Belle's heart seizes with fear, and she struggles to find her voice. "What – what does it do?"

"Oh, it's a most vile and terrible curse. It slowly eats away at its victim's heart until they are hopeless and hollow inside."

Belle's heart feels as if it is nearly ripped from her chest, and she has to fight back tears at the thought of Rumpel suffering that fate. "That's awful!" She has to fight through the fear squeezing at her chest to speak. "But – but I can't let that happen to him! I know he has a good heart, I know it! Please, you must know some way to break it, to save him?"

The woman looks down at Belle, examining her face and eyes with extreme care, for what feels like forever. Finally, she speaks again. "Do you love this man? Truly love him?"

"Yes." She nods fiercely.

She leans closer. "If you truly love this man, with all your heart, then you can save him." She smiles. "True love's kiss will break any curse."

Belle's body feels as though she could simply collapse on the spot with relief, but her heart barely lets her speak a sincere "Thank you" to the woman before she sets off in the other direction, running.

Long after she is out of earshot, the woman smiles wickedly. "You're very welcome my dear."

… …

Belle reaches the castle not long after nightfall. She sets her things down just inside the door, and goes looking for him. No lights or torches are lit anywhere except the dining hall, where she sees only a faint sliver of light coming out under the door. She pushes it open slowly, silently, and peeks in. He sits at his wheel, with his shoulders slumped. He spins his straw, but so very, painfully slowly. She wonders if he ever left this room.

She watches him, hiding behind the door, afraid. Afraid of how he'll react to her, afraid of what he might do or say – afraid that she won't be able to save him. She spent the entire walk back praying and praying that his curse truly can be broken. Still without making a sound, she slips through the door, takes a deep breath, full of courage, and speaks his name.

She thinks for a moment that he does not hear her. But as she prepares to speak again, louder, his fingers stop the wheel, and he turns to her. She cannot read the look on his face, but his voice is shocked. "Belle… you came back…"

She grins a little, and nods, and makes her way across the room. He stands, nearly tripping over his chair. She still prays in the back of her mind, that this will work, that he will even let her try. She watches as he tries to come up with something to say, sees his mind spinning behind his eyes, but in the end, he can only manage to whisper, "Why?"

She licks her lips nervously. There really is only one answer to that question. "Because I love you."

He shuts his eyes, as in pain. "Belle –"

But she steps forward, presses her fingertips to his lips before he can finish. She shushes him gently. "I love you," she murmurs. "I am in love with you. I know you think that can't be true, but it is." She moves her hand to cup the side of his face, and he stays silent. "I can see the goodness in your heart. I see how kind and sweet you are with me. And I know that deep down you feel the same way."

He says her name in a sigh. She steps closer, and moves her hand down to his chest. She presses down, and she can feel his heart.

"I love you, Rumpelstiltskin."

She smiles, gently, lovingly, and leans in close. He doesn't move away, doesn't shout, doesn't say a word. He lets her come close, even leans in the tiniest bit, and she kisses him. She pours every last bit of love she feels into that kiss, every prayer, and she savors it.

She pulls away, eventually, and he sighs – blissfully, almost. She hopes that is the sign that it worked, that she saved him, that the curse is broken, and his heart can heal.

"There," she whispers. "See? Now do you believe that I love you?"

He doesn't answer. He only stares into her eyes for the longest time before bringing a hand to her cheek. He only rubs his thumb back and forth across her cheek, and finally pulls her close against him, and kisses her again.

When they fall into bed that night, for the first time, it truly feels as if they are making love. Once there were walls between them, and he always kept her at arms' distance no matter how close he held her. She had to remind herself constantly not to kiss him on the lips, and came so close a hundred times anyway, in spite of herself. But now – as if by magic, by a broken curse – all of that is gone, and he lays his soul bare to her.

That night, they do not spend their entire time together locked in a passionate kiss. Their lips wander elsewhere, and nowhere, wherever they please. But the freedom to kiss him, to show him how she truly feels, whenever she pleases, and the thrill of butterflies in her heart when he kisses her, is exhilarating. He doesn't say the words that night, but by the end, when they're exhausted and breathless and lying tangled up in one another, she knows beyond all doubt that he loves her.

… …

Belle wakes slowly in the morning, letting her mind come out of some vague and pleasant dream. In the early dawn light, she finds Rumpel on the other side of the bed, sleeping soundly against her pillow. This is the first time he has ever slept the night in her bed, the first time she has ever woken beside him. His face is perfectly serene, and even in sleep, she thinks he looks happy. She finds the sight of him quite pleasing.

She could get used to waking up like this.

For now though, she is hungry. She slips out of the bed, careful not to wake him. The air on her bare skin is cold, and she shivers as she pulls a night dress out of the dresser drawer. She steps into her slippers and pulls on her warm robe, and heads to the door. She looks to him once more as she pulls the door closed behind her.

She stretches as she walks down the hall, a smile painted on her face. Her heart is still filled with butterflies, soft and wonderful, and the words I love you threaten to spill from her lips, even though he is nowhere near.

She hears quick, quiet footsteps behind her, and she is sure Rumpel will try to surprise her, until dark fabric obscures her vision, and one massive arm surrounds her, and another clamps down over her scream.

... …

He awakens in a bed not his own, unfamiliar until he smells a subtle, pleasant scent, and memories of the night before return to him. He smiles, and opens his eyes. The other side of the bed is empty, but still holds a trace of warmth. Her robe is missing from its usual hook.

He sits up, and gets out of bed, padding across the cool marble floors to his own room. As he fishes clothes from his wardrobe and dresses, he suspects she must be in the kitchen, putting something together. He imagines he might come up behind her, wrap his arms around her waist and pull her back against him as she cooks. Yes, rather a good idea, that.

Once he's dressed, he makes his way to the kitchen only to find it empty and dark, no fire burning in the stove. He Hmms quietly, and moves on to the work room. Perhaps she is reading in the warm morning light.

The work room, too, is empty.

In the vast library, he calls her name, and it echoes off the walls, and then silence. Old, familiar fears slither into his heart, clenching and poisoning as he goes to another room, and another, whispering She's gone and She hates you and No one could ever love a monster, and for all that he tries to drown them out as he yells her name, the whisper still, relentless.

As he becomes more and more frantic now, running and yelling through hallways and gardens and all the way out past the front gates, the horrible fears sink into his gut, that it was never love, that she never meant it, that it was some cruel trick, that for all he saw and felt and wanted to believe, none of it was ever real.

Outside the gates, staring down a long, empty pathway, the scream of her name is primal, desperate and devastated.

"What in God's name are you shouting for?"

He startles, and turns to find an old, shriveled hag of a woman standing there. She carries a basket full of blood-red apples under her arm, no doubt taking them to the market in town.

He stares at her, his heart racing. "Have you seen a woman?"

"Here?" she asks, her voice an old squawk. "No. Although… come to think of it, I did encounter a rather lovely young lady on the road just after dawn, not long ago."

Rumpelstiltskin's heart cracks.

"She was positively frantic, still wearing her night clothes, in fact. I tried to ask if I could help her in any way, but she just kept saying that she had made a horrible mistake and she had to get away as quickly as possible. Then she kept running. Is that who you were looking for?"

Rumpelstiltskin's heart shatters, sharp pieces crumbling and stabbing him from the inside out.

The old woman looks him over. "Hm. Of course she was. Hardly a surprise, considering the circumstances."

"What the hell do you know of it?" he barks.

"Your reputation precedes you, Rumpelstiltskin," she answers, smirking cruelly. "Are you really so surprised that your prisoner would try to run away from a monster like you?"

The shards of his heart bleed, because he knows every word is true. "She wasn't my prisoner." But the words come out in a half-hearted whisper.

"No?" the woman taunts, as if she takes pleasure in his suffering. "Why else would she be with you?"

He glares at her, rage and fury and hellfire quickly filling the void of his heart. "Get off my land." Then he turns, and goes back into his fortress.

… …

Belle sits motionless, her face still covered, with her arms and legs bound and restrained. She gave up fighting and screaming only when her voice became hoarse and the restraints began to cut into her flesh from struggling against them so hard. There is no use in wasting her energy. She thinks she is probably in a carriage or a wagon.

Neither the man with the crushing arms that took her from the castle, nor the ones that restrained her, have spoken a word, no matter how much she demanded her release and to know who they were.

She has nothing else to do but sit and wait.

Eventually, after what must be hours, she feels the sizzle of magic in the air, licking at her skin, and the next thing she knows, she is unrestrained, with sunlight blinding her, and a hand at her back shoves her hard to the ground. She turns, and finds a familiar face, no longer kind and supportive as she was yesterday, but smiling wickedly.

"You?" Belle whimpers, even more confused. "I don't understand, what –" She rises to her knees, and as she looks around, she realizes that she is home, back in the middle of her village. "What's going on? Where's Rumpelstiltskin?"

The regal woman she met yesterday, still clad all in menacing black, bares her teeth in a smile. "He's in his castle, no doubt cursing your name."

"What? What are you talking about?"

The woman laughs with a sickening pleasure in her voice. "I hardly think he'll wish any kindness to the woman who betrayed him and tore his heart out."

"No! I didn't!" Belle staggers to her feet. "You said – you said true loves kiss would break the curse! You said I could free him! I broke it, I love him!"

The woman laughs, the sound like knives in her ears. "You stupid little girl. There was no curse. Just a wretched, evil old man who's forgotten how to love. If he ever knew how in the first place."

The knives stab in her heart now, and the world falls down around her, piece by piece. "No, you're wrong!"

She shrugs with a grin. "Perhaps, but it no longer matters. By now he's already cast a spell upon you, Belle, the same one he used to protect your little town. You will never be able to find him no matter how desperately you try."

She can't breathe, chokes out - "No!"

"Oh yes. Search every day for the rest of your life if you like. You will never find him."

The woman smiles smugly, and turns with a swish of her skirts.

Belle struggles and gasps for breath, but somehow, as hard as she tries, it's not enough. "Why? Why did you do this?"

The woman doesn't even bother to turn around, only looks over her shoulder. "Because I won't allow some pathetic little peasant girl to turn his heart towards good. He's of no use to me that way. Now go back to your poor little life, Belle." And she walks on.

Tears sting her eyes, pain, and fury, and fear and loss and love and sheer desperation fill her and destroy her and push her forward. "No, you can't do this! I love him!" She lunges forward, determined to do something, anything to make her undo this –

But just like that, the woman disappears in a puff of black and violet smoke, and Belle stumbles to the ground again, and when she hits, she shatters into a thousand irreparable pieces. She lays on the ground, sobbing and helpless, and she hears her father's voice as arms try to lift her up and comfort her. But there is nothing he can say or do, nothing anyone can do, that will keep her heart from breaking.

As she lies there, sobbing in her father's arms, she thinks she will be very lucky if this broken heart does not kill her entirely.

… …

Gold finds himself in a perpetual state of shock, still, nearly a week since talking to her last. Since hearing her tell the story – every word of it true, he knows. And that truth is devastating. Even now, it makes him question everything he thought he knew, all the choices he's made, in this life and the last. The truth fills him with regret, and rage, and devastation, and desperation.

He has thought endlessly for many days, dreamed for many nights, of all that was within his reach, all that he lost, of all that could have been. And now that the pain and anger of loss have begun to subside, he is beginning to think of what might be again.

He – they – are not bound by their pasts. Maybe some years ago, with the curse in full force, and things as they were back then, maybe things would have been different. But now, everything changes by the day, rules rewritten and realities challenged. Perhaps it was the very weakening of the curse itself that pushed them together.

Still, he knows that, though they are not imprisoned by their pasts, they may yet be doomed to repeat them. It used to be that he didn't want to see her again, didn't want to be hurt again. It was, he realizes, one of his deepest fears. But now, he finds himself afraid of losing her again. He is afraid that this brief glimmer of happiness will only end with heart being ripped apart yet again. But in this short amount of time he has spent with her, he has wanted nothing but to be near her, caress her face, touch her hair, hear the soft lilt of her voice. Leaving her side this last time took every bit of effort, and left him feeling empty. Thoughts of her, hopes of what might be haunt his dreams, and destroy his days.

None in that life ever looked upon him with the same kindness, gentleness, or unprejudiced affection as she did. Even here, in this life, no one has ever treated him the way she did in just their brief moments together. She has shown him only kindness, from the very moment they met. And deep down, he knows that no matter how hard he may try, he will not be able to resist that pureness of heart forever.

He knows that if he does not seize this one, fleeting chance for happiness, he may as well condemn himself right here and now.

Now or never.

He plucks an old, dusty, tattered book from a shelf in a corner of the shop, and heads out the door without bothering to lock it behind him. Today, the walk to the library takes eight minutes.

This time, when he enters the library, Anna does not come seek him out. Instead, he finds her tucked away in a little nook, somewhere off in the fiction section. In spite of the cart full of unshelved books beside her, she sits cross-legged on the floor, an old paperback novel in her lap. No doubt she got distracted as she was putting things away, and it makes him smile. She startles when he says her name, then smiles.

"Mr. Gold!" She stands. "What brings you here?" He thinks she sounds glad to see him. He doesn't wait to consider any other possibility.

He takes a deep breath and holds up the book in his hand. "Actually, I have something for you." He gives it to her, and she takes it with excited eyes. "It's from my shop. It's the only book I have in there, and it's been there as long as I can remember. I didn't think there was much point in letting it collect dust forever… I thought you might like to have it. As a gift, to say thank you."

She smiles, again – always smiling and so beautiful. "Thank you. That's so sweet." She opens the book, flips through a page or two, and then – before even she realizes it, he suspects – she is entranced, reading away.

"Anna."

"Huh?"

He doesn't give himself the time to hesitate, and takes the plunge. "Would you like to have dinner with me this evening?"

She stares at him, open-mouthed. "You mean… like a… date?"

"Yes."

"Um…" She stares at him, then at the book in her hands, then back at him. "Sure. Yes." Her cheeks turn bright red. "Um, should I change before…?"

He shakes his head, and finally realizes that he's grinning like a fool. "No, what you're wearing is fine. You look lovely, actually."

"Thank you…" She hugs the book to her chest and looks down shyly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Um, the library closes at 7, and then I usually finish up a few things. So I usually leave at about 7:20."

"All right, 7:20 it is, then." He takes a step back, just enough so that he doesn't kiss her right here and now. "I'll see you then."

She bids him goodbye softly, glancing up at him only briefly. Her cheeks are still pink.

Perhaps there is hope for him yet.