Rumplestiltskin had seen the two party crashers off to their ball. And he sent them off in style, if he did say so himself. The deep red dress suited the savior-turned-princess and Hook…well, he would have dressed the pirate in a burlap sack if he could have. But at least the outfit was better than that leather thing he seemed to be living in. Rumplestiltskin had a keen memory and it seemed that the good pirate captain had been wearing the same outfit for nigh on 200 years. "Ridiculous," he muttered. He prided himself on his clothing, refusing to wear the same thing twice in a row. He knew what it was like to grow up poor, to wear the same outfit day after day, shivering as you cleaned it in the cold creek nearby. For someone to choose to do that. Well, that's just slightly beyond his ken.

Though there are worse things beyond his ken. Like his maid. He still didn't know why exactly he dealt for her. He didn't need a maid. Magic could do everything he needed. But when asked for a price, when offered gold, he had instead chosen her. Gold was meaningless. But he was sure he could have requested something from them which did not land a meddlesome, clumsy girl in his lap.

The girl was a walking disaster, really. He spent more time cleaning up her messes than she spent actually cleaning. There were times he was relieved she simply chose to read on the couch in the Great Hall instead of attempting to dust something that turned out to be dangerous to her.

Not that the little couch was there for her per se. It's just that he felt like moving it. Sometime after she showed up. And she had absolutely and totally and positively simply taken it over once he placed it there. That was never his intention and the smirk she had given him when it showed up one day, a couple weeks after her arrival, was just an assumption on her part.

The Dark One does not move couches for anyone except himself.

But now he has a conundrum on his hands. The woman from the future, whose name he did not ask and whose name he did not want to know…she had said he would fall for her. He should have thrown back a quip about how Belle had already fallen…from the ladder, down the stairs, and that one time she had told him she'd even fallen off her own bed when trying to reach for the book she had dropped down the side of it. He had giggled about that one. For days, if he remembered right. Oh she had been angry, eyes flashing, lips pressed together. But it didn't stop him from teasing her every chance he got.

She took it though. That was something he appreciated about her, really. She could give as good as she got. He had never had someone willing to shout him down until Belle. In some ways it felt good. She was a challenge. She was intelligent and brave. Few were willing to stand up to the Dark One, especially not when they had no magic. But she did every chance she got.

Truth be told, he had expected crying, begging, sniveling. He had expected spite with just a touch of agony and boredom. Instead he had gotten Belle.

But fall for her? The would-be savior was ridiculous. Wrong. Completely and utterly wrong. It seemed that the future had somehow addled her brains. The entire thing was a ridiculous notion, especially for the fact that she had said "fallen for each other," which, by necessity, meant it involved them both.

Highly unlikely. He was the monster of the castle, the dark creature who had stolen her from her family, from her betrothed, from all who loved her. He was the one who took her from the light and thrust her into the darkness of his life. He could fall on bended knee and declare his love for (not that he loved her), could tell her she was the loveliest woman he had ever met (this was patently untrue), beg for a scrap of her attention (though truth be told he seemed to have it all, not that he noticed or anything). But love him? Love her? No. That was not a possibility. Not in the life of the Dark One and certainly not in the life of the shell of a man he was before the power. The Dark One did not love. The Dark One was an enemy of love. He tore people apart, did not put them together, and if he was trying to figure out how to bottle true love that was no one's business but his own.

So now he must face this. At least until he could see those people back to where they belonged and manage to brew up that forgetting potion and…well…forget it all.

But until then…

With a sigh, Rumplestiltskin disappeared from the hillside he had met the savior and his sworn enemy on and returned to the castle. He would have to face her sometime.

He appeared back in the Great Hall, no great flourish accompanying him. He was simply not there one moment and there the next. Unfortunately, Belle was there as well, residing on her little couch, reading some book or another, probably the third one that day, not that he ever noticed how many books she read or kept the library stocked for her. Dark Ones didn't keep stocked libraries for maids. In fact, Dark Ones didn't really keep maids…not that he knew of at least.

She set the book down and bounced off the couch, brushing her hands over the skirts of her blue dress (which he did not create to match the blue of her eyes, no way no how). "Did you see them off?" She walked closer to him and he could see the curiosity brimming behind her eyes. She didn't often see those he dealt with and she certainly hadn't ever met such an odd pair before.

"Never you mind that, dearie." He waggled a finger at her. "Nosey maids do not get to hear about deals." She crossed her arms over her chest and if it caused her cleavage to be just a little bit more prominent, he didn't notice…really. Well, alright. He may be the Dark One but somewhere beneath all that scaly skin he was still just a man. "Alright fine. I saw them off."

"And…"

"They are currently attending a ball, dressed appropriately of course." He made a little sniffing noise. "I wouldn't let them go to the ball dressed in such rags."

Belle stepped closer, reached out a hand and lightly touched his arm. "Of course you wouldn't." He tried not to jump back like he had been burned, but even the light touch was like fire on his skin.

Belle simply smiled. "Is there something wrong, Rumplestiltskin?"

"No," he responded with, the word coming a little too quickly and a little too harshly. "No of course not. Why would you ask that?"

"Hmmm," was all she said as she turned away, picked up her book once more. Bloody maid.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said as she sat down and started reading. At least, he thought she was reading, but he watched her for some time and did not see her flip a page. There was a grin on her face though and that left him feeling suspicious.

"What are you doing?"

She put a finger on the page and looked up at him, all innocence and wide eyes. "Reading. What does it look like?"

"You don't read that slow," he pointed out and then took a step back at the way her eyebrows rose at his comment, the smirk that started at the corner of her mouth and then spread until she was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"So you watch me as I read."

"No." He took another step back, hands coming up as if he could ward her off.

"Hmmm." Just that little sound again, nothing more, and still she looked like the cat that ate the canary.

"Well," he said, clearing his throat. "I'll just be…I have to…right." And he disappeared from the room. Sometimes it was easier to depart when she was in one of those moods. He wasn't a coward. Not really at least. Well, maybe just a little bit. But he was so disconcerted and her little smirks and almost knowing looks left him feeling unsettled. Not that he would ever admit that. The Dark One always had the upper hand. Always. And if his maid thought she ever got it, then, well it was because he allowed her to think that way. Not because she actually had it.

He managed to spend some hours working on the forgetting potion that he needed for himself and probably for Belle. Yes. Definitely for Belle. She had not only met the couple from the future, she had probably heard enough of their conversation to understand where and when they were from. Better safe than sorry when it came to such things. After all, the woman whose name he did not want to know knew Belle and seemed surprised to find her there.

He tried desperately to not think of her later words, what those meant, how she knew Belle. He had managed to keep himself from asking. He didn't want to seem too curious. After all, what she said was beyond preposterous.

He returned downstairs, the potion not quite ready for consumption. It needed time to brew and he needed time to direct its magic to exactly how much he needed to forget exactly. Belle was there when he entered the room, still sitting on her little couch, still reading, though this time she actually looked engrossed in the book she was looking at.

When he entered the room, he watched her shoulders stiffen just slightly. Fascinating. Did she recognize his presence? Did she know he was there? Not that it mattered, really. Well, it mattered. Of course it mattered. His maid should be attentive to his every need. She's not, of course. Well, she tries to be. But just as she is now, she's too engrossed in her book to even really make note of his entrance. She's aware and yet not aware at the same time.

He disappeared briefly and reappeared directly behind her. He leaned down close, face right above her shoulder. She didn't even move except to flip another page. And so he did the only thing he could think of at that moment. He blew lightly into her ear. He didn't even know why he did that. He had startled Belle any number of times. After all, what good was being an all-powerful sorcerer if you couldn't scare the help once in awhile? But blowing in her ear, such an intimate gesture?

That woman from the future had apparently really gotten to him.

Belle jumped at the feel of his breath on her ear and as she turned and leapt to her feet, the back of her hand accidentally knocked him right in the head. It all happened so fast that he wasn't able to avoid her flailing hand and Belle couldn't stop her hand from colliding with him.

"Oof," he said.

At the same moment, Belle rounded on him. "What are you doing?"

Oh she was mad now and he backed up a pace, hands held out in front of him. "I…uh…"

Belle just stood there, all righteous indignation and anger. And damned if he didn't love seeing her like that. She was a force of nature, standing up to the Dark One without any fear in her eyes. She didn't even fear him when his anger got the better of him and he rounded on her while holding a rather sharp knife. He hadn't been trying to threaten her with it. He had just happened to have it at that moment. And still. The girl refused to back down.

"That's what I thought," she finally said and he'd be lying if the grin on her face didn't leave him slightly slack-jawed. Belle stepped back from him, grin still in place. "I think it's time I got back to my cleaning."

"You don't have to."

"Oh but I do. Perhaps the curtains today."

"No ladders," he managed to get out.

"What?"

"I'm not catching you. No ladders." He waggled a finger in front of her face for good measure. He had caught her once, a rather awkward moment he tried hard to forget and yet couldn't. The feel of holding her close, her somewhat heavy breathing from the shock of the fall, her lips so close to his…well, he had to work to forget, retreat to the wheel. Maybe he'd work that one into the forgetting potion.

Well, he would if he had the heart to erase it from his memory, from her memory. But he knew he didn't. His cowardice came out in any number of ways and while there was a part of him that wanted to forget that feeling, there was still that part of him that didn't want to forget the way the light played over her skin or the way she looked at him in that moment.

No one looked at him like that. No one had ever looked like that.

"Right," Belle finally said. "No ladders." She hesitated for a moment, the look she gave him one of assessment more than simple curiosity. And then she sighed and moved off.

He breathed a sigh of relief. There was a sort of tenseness there, an awkwardness that wasn't there before and he wondered if it were all him or if Belle…no…his maid (he really must think of her as nothing more than the maid) felt it too.

She set to cleaning and he disappeared to meet up with the couple from the future one last time, sending them off with a wand that ought to get them back to where they belong. If they could use it, that was. But that wasn't his concern. Forgetting was, now that he had washed his hands of them, but he was too discomfited by all that he had learned and so took to his wheel for a time before his mind settled enough to return to his tower to work on the potion.

Forgetting potions weren't easy. You had to pinpoint exactly what to forget. Allow the potion to be too broad and you could forget anything from your name to your occupation to what you had for dinner the night before. Allow the potion to be too narrow and you could forget only something small…the last hour, the last day, the name of the place you called home. He did not need to do this twice, especially not when it came to Belle.

He knew she wouldn't want to take it.

But he was also sure she had heard too much, seen too much. She hadn't quite exited the room when the stranger spoke of falling for each other. The idea was absurd, but as he scoffed his eyes had slid over to the exiting Belle and noticed that she paused, just briefly, before finishing her walk out of the room.

He was sure she heard.

But that didn't make it any easier to convince her of the need for the potion, the need for, well, he didn't even know what.

"Rumplestiltskin?" His head shot up. He hadn't heard her enter the room.

"Yes dearie? Can't you see I'm busy?" Right…distance himself. Step back, put your hands up, ward her off. He couldn't let her too close.

She gave him a soft smile and stepped further into the room. "Of course." She took another step. "You've been up here for hours…"

"Has it been so long already?" He wasn't lying about that at least. Not that he was lying about anything. He didn't have things to lie about…right?

"It has." Belle's voice sounded warm, slightly amused.

"Well, there are things to do."

"Things that have to do with those people?" She had one eyebrow slightly raised, one hand on her hip.

"No," he said quickly. "It has to do with…stuff." He turned back to his potion, grimace on his face.

"Stuff." She repeated the word and he cringed. She knew. She had to know.

"Yes." He turned back to her with the thought of shooing her away again. It had worked before. Before when that woman had spoken those words and sent him into a bit of a tailspin. But Belle was too close, standing too near. She had moved in those intervening moments until she was right at his side. He could feel the warmth from her body, could see the way her pupils dilated slightly as her eyes met his. When she reached out a hand and lightly touched his arm, he found himself skittering backward.

Belle cocked her head to the side and he tried to ignore the smug look on her face. For a moment she said nothing and he started to turn away. "I heard," she finally said, reaching out to touch his arm again.

"Belle…I…" He wrenched his arm away, put some distance between them.

"I heard," she repeated. "I know what that woman said. About us?"

He nodded. "She's crazy," he shot back. "Don't believe everything she says."

"Is she?" her voice was gentle. "Crazy I mean?"

"Of course. She and that pirate booth. Loonies. It's a good thing they left when they did. That sort of craziness can spread…" He waggled a finger at her and turned away.

"Hmmm."

"What is that?" Rumplestiltskin stared at her, eyes narrowed.

"What is what?"

"That…that…'hmmm' think you keep doing."

Belle stepped closer to him and reached up to lightly touch her face. "I heard. Don't tell me they were crazy. They weren't. They were from the future."

"You're too nosey, dearie." The words came out without their usual bite.

"Am I? Or is there just something you don't want to admit?" She leaned in just a little bit closer and his eyes widened.

"Belle…I…" He didn't even know what he was trying to say at that moment. She leaned in closer, her face coming near his, nearer than it had ever been before. He felt himself draw in a breath quickly. "What are you doing?"

"I know what she said," Belle whispered and her hand came up to lightly touch her face. "Do you think it's true?"

He stepped back quickly. "It doesn't matter."

Belle's eyebrows drew lower over her eyes. "Of course it does." He'd never heard her use quite that one of voice before. It was more than anger. Oh, he'd heard anger before. He'd heard anger plenty of times. But this was anger mixed with sadness mixed with just a touch of desperation.

"No." he responded with quickly, before she could get another word in. She didn't need to speak. She didn't need to put voice to all of this…whatever it was that was lying between them. He held up one hand, the potion appearing in it just a second later.

"What is that?"

He gave her a somewhat rueful grin, just one side of his mouth quirking up. "Forgetting potion."

Belle gave a small gasp. "This is why it doesn't matter?"

He nodded.

"No." Always the stubborn one.

"We have to."

"No," she reiterated, crossing her arms over her chest. And if she looked glorious in that moment, her cheeks red, her eyes slightly narrowed, he wasn't one to notice. Not really. Alright, well, maybe he did.

"Belle please…"

"Why should I forget?"

"Do you know what remembering would do?" He gripped the potion just a little bit harder. "Remembering screws up the timeline. Remembering could change everything."

All the fight left her in almost an instant. "You might never find your son."

He held up the potion again. "We have to forget. Life has to go on as it was intended." He held out the potion to her and the relief he felt at her taking it from his hand was only tempered by the shiver that went down his spine when their hands made contact briefly.

"Now?" she asked.

"Now." He held up the potion, tipped it toward his mouth when Belle's hand wrapped around his wrist.

"Rumplestiltskin, wait."

He stared at her with wide eyes. She stepped closer, set the forgetting potion on the table. "If we're just going to forget this…" And then she went up on her tip toes and her lips touched his. It was just a slight brushing of lips together, but he felt it all the way to his core. One hand came up to cup her face, tangled in her hair briefly as her arms came around his neck.

And then she was backing away. He opened his eyes to see hers, wide and slightly unfocused. "You're…"

He could feel it. He knew what she was trying to say, could feel the way his skin felt tight and hot, could feel the ripples radiating out from his lips and wrapping around him. "Yes," he finally managed to get out.

"It's true love." She sounded awed.

"It is," he whispered. He glanced down at the potion, the one that would end this, would make him forget everything, reset things back to where they should be. He took a deep breath. A second one. He could feel the power drain, could feel the way his hands, once warm with the magic, started to grow cold. He could see Belle's eyes still wider than usual, could see the surprise evident in the set of her mouth, the raised eyebrows.

"You can't," Belle whispered, the words broken.

"I have to." He raised the potion once more, staring at the swirling liquid. "We both have to." Before he could give it a second thought, he drank it down in one gulp. For a moment, nothing happened and then for his mind went blank, the world went dark, and when he opened his eyes again, he saw his maid standing in front of him. Her mouth was quirked up in a strangely sad smile and as he stared, she simply shook her head. "What?" he finally managed to ask.

She grabbed the potion bottled nearest her and he reached out to stop her. She took a quick step back, out of his reach, and took a large drink from it. Her eyes darkened for a moment and then her face cleared.

"What are we doing here?" She seemed confused as to her proximity to him and stepped back.

"I…" He looked around the tower room. Belle never came to visit him there unless she brought him tea. He looked back at her. She had no tea. "I don't know."

"Tea?" Belle finally managed to get out. "Downstairs?"

"Well, dearie, if you'd have bothered to bring it up here with you, we wouldn't have to go all the way down there to get it, now would we?" He watched as his maid ducked her head, still clearly a bit confused about why she was in the tower room with no tea in hand.

"Indeed," she muttered.

"Well, then, go put the kettle on or something." He made a small shooing motion with his hands.

"Yes, of course." Belle stopped one more time at the entrance to the room, giving him a strange, assessing look. He shooed her out one more time and she left, shaking her head at him as she so often did these days.

Rumple turned back to the potions on his table and picked up the one that Belle had just set down. It was still warm from where she touched it and he felt a strange disquieting feeling somewhere between his heart and his groin at the feeling of that warmth. He leaned in, sniffed the potion, and set it back down with a hiss. "What exactly did we do that required that?" And without another thought, he disappeared from the tower room to reappear behind Belle in the kitchen. He'd scared her really good this time.