Rumpelstiltskin smiled as he woke up, tangled in his sheets with Belle, waiting for dawn. All through the night they had held on to one another, relishing the feeling of each other's arms once more. Now, her cheek rested against his shoulder, and his cheek in turn rested atop her head. He let out a contented hum.

Belle sucked in a breath. "What?" she mumbled, not quite awake.

"It's nothing, dear. You go back to sleep," he whispered gently.

But it seemed that she would not have that. Stretching out like a cat, his maid rubbed at her eyes in an attempt to wake up.

"Belle, it's not even light yet. You should keep resting," the man chastised.

With a roll of her eyes, Belle retorted, "I've had more sleep tonight than in the past week." She rolled onto her side. "As it is, I don't see you sleeping."

He chuckled, dropping her twinkling gaze. "Immortality has quite a few advantages. After some time, certain things become optional."

"One of those things being sleep?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Sleep is among them." Glancing at her again, he went on, "I still need to sleep, however not quite so much now." Grinning like a fool, he added, "And just so you know, this is the most sleep I've gotten in the last week as well."

Belle snorted, "Of course, I've been terribly selfish."

She then began playing with the ends of his locks. His eyes locked onto her face, though she seemed oblivious, being completely focused with his hair.

"You know, your hair is so much softer than it looks."

Rumpelstiltskin's mouth dropped open just slightly. "It is?" he coughed, unsure of how else to respond.

"Mmhm. It looks so coarse and stiff, but I think this is actually the softest hair I've ever felt."

"Went around touching people's hair often, did you?" he giggled tensely.

She swatted his shoulder softly. "You know what I mean."

"I'm not sure I do," he teased.

Frowning playfully at him, she took one of his locks and managed to squeeze it between his tautly sealed lips. The sorcerer shot her a rueful glare and blew the strands out of his mouth. Belle wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Ugh, morning breath," she gagged.

With a sneer that would have terrified any other, the Dark One proceeded to blow at her face until the she was forced to crawl away. "Serves you right," he laughed.

"Oh, you hush," she grumbled. "And give me some of the covers. Now I'm cold."

Instead, he gathered the blankets as close to his body as he could and said, "Now that you mention it, I feel a tad chilly myself."

"You selfish bast—"

"Ooh, you know, I don't think I've ever heard you curse before, dear," he laughed.

"Well," she grumbled. "It is all your fault. I'll have you know that until I met you, I never uttered a single vulgar word. And I lived in a castle filled with soldiers!"

Rumpelstiltskin grinned again. "So I have corrupted you then, eh? Tell me Belle, what kind of words have I taught you to say?"

Belle bit her lip, remaining silent for a few seconds before murmuring, "Damn."

"Oho, come now Dearie, surely you can do better than that," he pressed.

Her cheeks turned bright red. "Shit," she said more firmly.

Giggling like the imp he was, he prodded, "Well that is better, but I've a feeling that it's not your best."

Now, biting her lip, Belle looked away and closed her eyes. Then, very deliberately, she turned to him, holding his gaze with determination, and whispered, "Fuck."

They stared at one another for a beat and then broke into laughter, going on until their sides were sore and there were tears in their eyes.

"Well," he snorted, managing to curb his sniggering. "I suppose I'll have to call a herd of clerics to cleanse your soul now."

Belle rolled her eyes. "They'd probably have a fit if they could see us now."

"True," he murmured. Rumpelstiltskin held out his arm, smiling when she took his invitation and curled up against his side. They sat in silence for a few minutes. The smell of her hair, even after a near-full night of sleep, was oddly soothing, and his muscles relaxed and loosened.

He absentmindedly noticed her stroking the scars on his arm, her fingers lightly tickling his skin.

"I never thanked you for that, did I?" he puzzled.

Belle glanced at him. "For what?"

Lifting his arm as carefully as possible, so as not to shift her position, Rumpelstiltskin displayed his scars more prominently. "For helping me through this." His little maid blushed. "These past few weeks I've been nothing but unfair to you. And I meant it last night when I said that I was sorry."

She returned her head to his shoulder. "I know, Rumpelstiltskin."

He smiled softly. "I know you do, sweetheart." Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her close and hummed, "But for what it's worth, thank you."

Belle took his hand for a moment and squeezed it. She opened her mouth and closed it, her brow furrowing slightly. Then, for the first time, she asked him, "Are you okay?"

Rumpelstiltskin chuckled, though his face seemed to fall. "That is quite a question, dearie," he muttered. For a short while, he did not answer, instead choosing to bite his cheek and frown, deep in thought. He replied, "I will be."

A moment later, he heard a meek, "Okay."

Rubbing her arm gently, the imp murmured, "I do hope I didn't startle you too much."

She clutched him tighter. "I wasn't sure what to do."

"You did perfectly, Belle," he assured her.

"But what if I had made it worse?" she protested. "What if I startled you and you—" she sucked in a breath.

"And I became violent?" She shook her head. Unsatisfied, he sat up and looked her firmly in the eyes. "I swear to you, Belle, I will never harm you."

"I wasn't worried that you'd hurt me, I thought—" she stopped and closed her eyes, taking several long, controlled breaths. Rumpelstiltskin took her hand and gave a gentle squeeze. "I thought you might hurt yourself," she finished.

He tilted his head for a moment and stared at her in awe. "You what?"

"What if when I found you your hand slipped and you cut too deeply?" Her glassy eyes squeezed shut. "You could have—" her breath caught.

Rumpelstiltskin placed the fingertips of his hand against her cheek. "Such a strange girl," he mused. He smiled warmly. "You know, all that time you seemed so sure of yourself. You were so brave. The first time I think of your own well-being, and even now you surprise me."

"I was so scared, Rumple." She sat up and wrapped her arms around him, shaking slightly. "I was so scared that I would make things worse."

He held her close, carding his fingers through her hair, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Belle's trembling began to subside, though she continued to hold on to him. "You know, you were very wrong," he said with a cautious smile. "Your hair is much softer than mine."

Belle laughed and he beamed, though he could not help but feel confounded. How was it possible that such a creature as her could be so deeply hurt at just the thought of his death? Shouldn't something so pure rejoice at the demise of the Dark One? Rumpelstiltskin decided that it would be best if he did not question it. Belle cared about him. Really cared. And that was enough.

"Rumple," her voice broke his thought.

"Yes, love?"

Her finger danced slowly over one of the scars on his forearm. "You said you have hundreds of them," she said.

He nodded. "I do."

She bit her lip. Rumpelstiltskin cocked his head. Surely there was more she meant to say. "What is it, Belle?"

A small sound that might have been a sentence escaped her lips, but despite his heightened hearing he could not make it out.

"Say again, sweetheart?"

She met his gaze for a moment and looked away. "Can I see them?"

Rumpelstiltskin stared at her for a moment before pulling away and stepping off of the bed. "It's not a pretty sight," he apologized before unbuttoning his blouse and shrugging it off. His glittering green and gold skin flickered as the scarce amount of morning light crept in through the window. Belle stared the entire time, her eyes wide and her lips slightly parted, as though she weren't sure if this was real.

Suppressing the urge to cover himself, he held out both of his arms, raising them slightly so that his sides were also visible. Belle could very clearly see an array of mismatched and jagged lines, all on his forearms and shoulders, his stomach and ribs, and on top of his right breast. The left side of his chest, however, remained smooth and unmarred.

He coughed anxiously. "I've lost track of exactly how many there are," he said. "But I know it's somewhere around three-hundred." Belle rose and stepped closer, her eyes skirting over each scar. "Each year I make a new one," he explained, his voice wavering and his body beginning to shake under her scrutiny. "I have more on my legs," he added, though he immediately chastised himself for it.

Belle's fingertips softly traced a particularly long scar on his left side, eliciting an involuntary giggle from him.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Ticklish."

A nervous grin spread across her cheeks.

She placed her hand flat over his heart, feeling it pound against his chest. "Can I ask why there are none here?"

Rumpelstiltskin cleared his throat, trying to find his voice again. "That, uh, that is why you need never worry about my safety."

"What do you mean?"

Clenching his teeth, he replied, "Some other time, Belle." He placed his hand over hers. "All you need to know for now is that your old monster won't be dying any time soon."

Belle smiled. "You're not a monster," she said in an almost matter-of-factly tone.

He chuckled. "I appreciate the sentiment."

"It's true," she insisted.

And then he couldn't focus. She was so close and she was touching him and he didn't know why. Then she began to lean into him. And when he leaned in as well he was still confused as to what was happening.

His eyes bored into hers, trying to wrap his mind around everything. "Belle," he breathed.

"Rumple," she replied, staring back with a hopeful gaze and a nervous smile.

"Belle," he said again. "I have to go," he choked out.

Belle's hands shook as she absentmindedly stirred the porridge. What on earth had possessed her to . . . whatever that was? He must have thought she was a fool. The man had darted away in such a hurry she was sure he was furious.

And it didn't help that he'd avoided her the whole rest of the day. They'd just returned to sharing a bed in the evenings. How was she supposed live through that after what she'd done?

Goodness, she really would need to see the clerics soon.

In all seriousness though, the anxiety running through her practically had her paralyzed. Would they be forced to end their nightly rituals because of her impulsiveness? Belle prayed that would not be the case. The past week was difficult enough with the onslaught of nightmares and insomnia, and she would rather not add shame and regret to the list of things keeping her awake.

Before she could fluster herself any more, there was an abrupt bang and the sound of footsteps coming from the foyer.

"Rumple!" a woman's voice pierced the air.

Belle felt the air crackle with magic. Rumpelstiltskin must have transported to the front room. She bit her lip and wondered who their visitor was. Finally, curiosity overcame her, and she set the spoon onto the table, tiptoed into the great hall, and pressed her ear against the door.

". . . full well that this is serious," Belle picked up the woman's voice.

"Is it?" Rumpelstiltskin tittered. "The last time I checked, it was impossible. I think it's safe to say that you cast it wrong."

"How dare you?" she huffed. "I did not make a mistake."

The imp retorted, "And yet every time you've checked again you've found nothing."

"That hardly means anything. If I'm right, then all the signs would disappear almost instantly. You can do it. I can do it. There's no reason—"

"Except that we both have wards specifically designed for this particular instance. Wards that would have required prior knowledge to deflect."

The woman fumed, "But one wasn't deflected! Why are you so insistent on ignoring that plain and simple fact?"

"As I said, dearie, it was nothing," he huffed.

"It was everything!" the woman snarled, her voice growing louder. "Refusing to even think about the possibility is absolutely reckless, and yet you find it appropriate to just sit around and twiddle your fingers when there may very well be a—"

"A what, dear?"

Belle could hear the slightest hint of impatience in his voice. What kind of person could get him riled up so quickly?

The woman snarled, "A bastard! A lazy fucking bastard!"

Rumpelstiltskin let out a forced giggle. "Well, I doubt you really have any knowledge of my birth."

"That does not change the fact that you are purposefully ignoring this. If I'm wrong, you'll waste a few days checking. If you choose to sit back and find out too late that I'm right, however, we'll both suffer for it."

The imp scoffed, "You might."

Belle heard a rustling sound, and when the Rumpelstiltskin spoke again he sounded much closer to the door. If it weren't for her damned high heeled shoes, Belle would be on her toes, ready to bolt if Rumpelstiltskin got too close.

"I think your little obsession with the dear princess is affecting your mind a bit more than you realize, dearie."

The woman's seething was almost audible. "This is not about Snow White. This is not about revenge. This is about a very real threat to both of us." She stepped closer to the door as she spoke, probably to glare at Rumpelstiltskin more effectively.

"I'm surprised you say that, all things considered," he snorted.

There was a pause. "What do you know about that?"

A giggle burst out from the sorcerer. "I see the future, dearie. I watched it all happen long before you did. And as for . . . this, I haven't seen anything. Not in my wards, and not in my visions."

"And I know that both of those things can fail. Given the right time and enough power, someone could very well fool . . . do I smell smoke?"

The porridge. Belle's heart stopped, and she did not even register the sound of footsteps growing closer until the doors swung open and smacked her in the face, eliciting a pained squeak from the maid.

"What the hell?"

The woman stood in the foyer, tall and regal with raven hair tied in a bun on the side of her head, clad in black leather and velvet. Her dark eyes bored holes in Belle's skull, and her painted red lips were pulled back in a bewildered sneer.

"Is this why you've been so distracted then?" the woman scoffed.

Rumpelstiltskin, who had been the one to walk into the hall, stood calmly and mostly nonplussed, though his hands twitched.

"Just the merchandise of a deal, dearie," he laughed. Belle flinched as though he had struck her. "I figured I might as well put her to work. Evidently she thinks one of her tasks is eavesdropping."

The woman stared at Belle for a few moments, as if calculating. Belle had seen a similar look on Rumpelstiltskin's face many times. "I see," she mused, not sounding at all convinced.

The sorcerer waved his hand at the woman. "You can go, dearie. If it's so terrifying to you, I'll look into the enchantment."

She nodded, still not taking her eyes off of Belle. "Good then." As she was turning to leave, she looked back at Rumpelstiltskin and growled, "I'd be careful if I were you, Rumple. Especially if what I found is true. I'm surprised you've saddled yourself with such a liability."

His nose twitched. "I haven't."

She smirked. "So Maleficent was right," she laughed.

He continued to stare at the woman until the front door slammed shut, then he whirled around to glower at Belle. "What the hell were you thinking?" he snarled.

Glaring right back at him, she snapped, "Merchandise?"

"Don't you dare change the subject! Do you have any idea what you may have just done?"

"Is that all you think of me?" she demanded, refusing to curb to his demands. "As a piece of property? Am I no better than a slave to you?"

"In the eyes of some, that is all you can ever be!" he barked. Once again Belle flinched at his words. "When dangerous people, such as that harpy, come knocking at my door, you will remain silent, unseen, and obedient! If, by some ridiculous series of events, you are seen, you will still remain silent and obedient!"

"But how can you treat me like that?" she protested. "How can you say I have to be your slave after everything?"

"Because you aren't my slave, Belle! I value your life too much!"

"What—"

"Belle!" he cut her off. "I have more enemies than you could possibly imagine! Every waking moment of every single day, they are searching for ways to harm me. If they think that I care even the tiniest bit for you, they will redirect their efforts to hurting you. They already have! Or did you forget about the so called 'Queens of Darkness?' And if that knowledge has spread, so much so that Regina knows, you are in even more danger than you ever have been!"

"And that gives you the right to treat me like a thing?" she said. "You degraded me in front of that woman because you thought it was for my own good?"

"That woman just so happens to be one of the most powerful practitioners of magic alive!" he snapped. "And for years she has been searching for ways to stab me in the back, and I'll be damned if I let you be the knife she uses!"

Belle opened her mouth but closed it immediately. What could she say to that? "I'd never—do you honestly believe that I would ever let myself become a tool for that woman?"

"Not willingly, no," he bit back, his hands clenched tightly by his sides. "But if that insufferable ordeal with Maleficent, Ursula, and Cruella proved anything, it's that I can't protect you every second of every day. If those imbeciles can find a way onto my land, you can be damned sure that Regina can as well. And she's not the sort who believes in a ransom."

Belle stood in silence for several moments. Her heart still stung from his apathetic attitude towards her in front of that woman, but there was no way she could refute any of the points he'd made.

"I see," she said. Then she turned to go clean up the burnt porridge in the kitchen.

Once she was out of earshot, Rumpelstiltskin's hand darted out to snatch up a porcelain vase traded for a woman's fertility. With a snarl, he hurled the fragile thing towards the door where Regina had left from, reveling in the satisfying smash it made.

That evening they both retired to the same quarters. Belle curled up against Rumpelstiltskin's chest and he draped his arm over her waist, though neither of them spoke. A few minutes passed, and her breath evened out as she drifted to sleep. Rumpelstiltskin could not help but noticed that her hand had closed around his wrist, and her thumb had begun to stroke his scars.