The rain didn't bother Belle. Likely it should've. It was no spring rain but an autumn deluge, combined with sharp winds. It was twilight—the people of Storybrooke had retreated indoors to escape the weather so the streets were completely empty. Belle stood in the rain letting the cold water soak her institution-given clothes. It streamed across her face until she couldn't distinguish her tears and the rain. It tasted cold and real.

It was such a relief to feel something from the natural world, however unpleasant. Belle savored this moment as the rain drenched her. Not for long, though. If the Queen were to see her…she'd be locked up again.

Belle began to walk. She wasn't entirely sure where to go. Her time in Storybrooke was limited to a padded room. The streets, though picturesque, were unfamiliar and foreign. Everything seemed hazy—the odd noises outside her cell, the unlocked door, the sleeping nurses and residents. Something magical had been afoot, Belle was certain of it. Doors didn't open on their own. Guards did not fall asleep all at the same time. For all she knew, it was a giant trick of Regina's.

All magic has a price.

She didn't care. Anything was better than being locked away in that wretched room.

She took a deep breath. In her mind, she began to chant the mantra that helped her regain focus when it felt like her world was falling apart.

I remember. I remember. I remember everything. I remember.

She could feel the Curse wriggling in her mind. She could feel it trying to supply images, memories, thoughts about a life in Storybrooke. They were lies. She knew this for certain. She would not accept them.

It was why she'd been locked up. Belle didn't know why she was able to resist the Curse but she didn't question it either. The only thing that mattered was escaping Regina's grasp.

And of course…finding him.

XXXXXX

Mr. Gold liked foggy, cold, dark days. The miserable weather agreed with him in a peculiar way. There was a certain charm to dreariness. Still, he hadn't had many customers today and intended on closing early. No point in wasting money—no one was about anyway. He carefully locked the register drawer, pocketing the key and headed towards the door.

He paused. His bad leg had begun to ache, a sure sign that magic ruled the night. He frowned. Perhaps Regina was up to some kind of mischief. Trying to brush off his uneasiness, he pulled a black umbrella from the umbrella stand next to the door. He opened it, stepping out into the rainy twilight. It had begun to pour violently, drowning out every other sound. It was a pity the downpour didn't include a thunderstorm—he would've enjoyed watching the lightning as he walked home. Mr. Gold respected displays of power.

He had just finished locking the door behind him when an eerie feeling that he was being watched flooded him. He turned swiftly.

He squinted. A figure of a girl stood a little ways away, staring directly at him. She had no coat, no umbrella—not even shoes. What on earth was a young girl wandering about in this weather?

His fingers twitched around his cane. There was something familiar about that girl.

She'd begun to walk towards him. He half-wondered if he should retreat into his shop, perhaps call someone or at least have his pistol in eyesight.

"What do you—" He started to say but froze. She was now in front of him. His cane fell to the floor.

Belle. Bedraggled, wet, frenzied, looking half-mad—like a hunted rabbit. She looked half-drowned as she shivered in the rain. A haunting hollowness lay in her eyes, an older maturity that he never saw during their time together.

But it was Belle.

A choking noise escaped his mouth. Memories surged through him. Forming the deal with her, catching her when she fell, offering the enchanted rose, her sweet lips on his, his rejection and demand for her to leave…

"You—you look different," She said in a raspy voice before collapsing.