Author's Note: In which the story starts to earn it's "M" rating and where our couple finally have a much needed late night conversation.

"Rumple…"

He could still hear her breathy moan in his ear, feel her fingers glide against the skin of his back. He could smell her scent, an exotic mixture of fine tea and aged parchment with hints of vanilla or something sweeter. Her panting in his ear always made him harder, made him feel virile and proud. He knows every crevice of her body, knows every sensitive part that makes her giggle or gasp. He knows that he could make her come by focusing his thrusts to rub her clit and by saying 'I love you' in a harsh, breathless whisper straight in her ear. And he knows she's not there, not in his bed anymore.

He wakes up lying on his stomach, his erection grinding into the mattress. He is sweaty and flushed but he doesn't continue on with his actions. He rolls onto his back and tries to think of anything else but her. He thinks of his newly restored home and the sudden influx of deals once the residents of Storybrooke found out he was back. He tries to think of where else he could go now that he had nothing holding him back, but the thoughts of what Belle might be doing at—he glances at his clock—two in the morning, make him feel sick and jealous and hurt. Was she with her lover, closely embraced and sleeping languidly after sex? He refuses to call it making-love. How long has she known that man? Would she welcome someone new in her bed after only six months apart?

He knows the views of sex in this world and it worries him. He also wishes he knew what she would do. He can imagine her being slightly reckless and impulsive. But she is smart and does really know the consequences of such actions.

Hell, it took both of them a year to feel comfortable enough to try for a first kiss.

His body is calmer but he is not reassured. He thinks of the paperwork he turned in yesterday, all signed and complete. Final. His heart aches in his chest and his eyes get moist. He won't cry.

If she wants to be rid of him, then he won't get in her way anymore. He will respect her wishes and leave her be. His chest gets tighter, the pain throbbing. He never thought he could love someone so much after Bae. He loves her and wants nothing more than to go and barge into her apartment to see the evidence of her moving on. He wants proof that she does not love him. He knows it will tear him apart and shatter his soul, but he needs it. He thinks that True Love cannot be so easily overcome. The Charmings have faced obstacle after obstacle, many of his making, and have come out of it unscathed. He remembers the Prince's words about honesty of the heart. He doesn't remember getting out of bed, but he is on his feet and moving to get dressed. He forgets that it is past two in the morning and every person should be asleep.

He parks his car at the shop before walking towards the library. The streets are clear of any of the townspeople and the night quiet. The moon is a day from being full so it is bright and clear. It is a beautiful night. He is surprised to see that the lights are on in her apartment. Belle is an early riser and not one for long nights. He climbs the stairs carefully and peers through the window by her door. He feels like a stalker, not truly knowing if he will knock or only watch her for a moment before he disappears. He sees her sitting in her small kitchen nook, a mug of probably cocoa in front of her. Her face is wan and a bit blotchy. Her hair is down in loose curls. He sees she is wearing her flannel pajama bottoms with his grey sweatshirt and his heart jumps. He also hears the growling behind him.

He hurriedly knocks as he sees a wolf at the bottom of the stairs. He wants nothing more than to curse the creature but he holds back. It is a mistake to be here he realizes, especially if he's guarding her.

"Mr. Gold?"

The creature quiets when Belle opens the door and peers around him. She slightly frowns before speaking.

"I'm okay, Ruby, thank you."

So it is the she-wolf prowling around the library. He silently berates himself for that mistake. His jealousy is getting that better of him. He cannot afford to make mistakes. It is too quiet and he sees that Belle is waiting for him to speak.
"Hey."

The word falls off his lips with hesitation and trepidation. His voice is husky from nerves and the closeness of her. She doesn't respond, but moves to close the door.

"Wait, Belle," he says in a rush. "I need to speak with you."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"I'm sorry," he continues.

She sadly laughs, her face showing every ounce of her unhappiness.

"I've heard that before. Dozens of times, in fact."

"Please, can I talk to you inside? In private?"

The wolf growls again and places a paw onto the stairs. He ignores it and watches Belle with quiet desperation. Belle hesitates. She is going to close the door and that'll be it, it'll be done, his mind races. He won't have another chance. Ever.

But she steps away and gestures for him to come in. She doesn't offer him a seat or anything, him not expecting her to. Belle has a long memory and a fierce temper and it will take everything he has to get her to just listen. He hears her snuffle as she reaches for a tissue and sits back down in the kitchen nook. He takes a seat in the lone chair in front of the table.

The silence lingers and is horribly awkward. It feels like they are complete strangers and in some ways, he apprehends, they are. Her voice slices through the tension.

"If you're only going to stare…"

"No," he quickly utters, "I want…are you okay?"

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thinks. She laughs again before answering him.

"What do you think? I got notice that I am a divorced woman today—yesterday," she amends. "My true love no longer."

He has never heard her so bitter. It eats at him that this is a direct result of all his actions, of his selfishness. His heart races in his chest and tightens with something close to agony.

"You filed first. You wanted to divorce me. Tell me to leave again and I won't ever come back…"

He immediately regrets his words. Her eyes fill with tears and she sobs as she shakes her head.

"You're a fool, Rumple," she mutters. "And still a coward, always running. I've only seen you fight for love once, for Bae, and it was everything I knew you were—a brave, good man… it was a fluke I know now."

"It wasn't," he argues. "I was ready to die for the both of you. I did. Do you know what coming back feels like? What coming back and watching my son die did to me?"

"No! Because you never shared it with me! You didn't even talk about your time with Zelena. You closed me out and pretended everything was okay until nothing was."

"I couldn't talk about it. I'm willing to now."

Her eyes widen in surprise.

"Why now? To win me back? It won't work."

"I don't expect you to come back. Only to listen…"

Belle sniffles once more and reaches for another tissue. She pulls the sleeves of his sweater up her arms. The room is cozy, warm but not stifling. He runs his hand through his hair to move it out of his face. It makes him think of all the times the woman in front of him has done it for him.

"Tea?"

He needs time to gather his thoughts. He's stalling to figure out a starting point. He knows Belle knows because of her raised eyebrow and her sardonic look. She shakes her head no.

"Nevermind," he mutters and waves a hand in front of himself, a glass of his expensive scotch appearing. If he is going to think of the past, he will do it with a drink. He takes a sip and begins. He hopes he doesn't screw it up. At least not too badly.

"Do you know what's out there when you die? Nothing, Belle. I remembered nothing between stabbing my father and seeing you cradling Bae in your arms in the snow. Just darkness. Seeing Bae slip away and then losing the dagger… There is nothing more demeaning than someone controlling your every action and reveling in it."

He takes another sip.

"With Bae in my head, I saw everything he thought of me. Every horrible thought. Every feeling of abandonment. There was hardly anything good he thought of me. I would have switched my life for his. I couldn't though. I could think and plan revenge yet I couldn't even sleep without her telling me to."

He watched as Belle silently got up and got a glass of water. She brought it back to the table.

"I almost killed you that night when she ordered me. She didn't care enough about you though. More willpower and a minute later, I would have had my hands around your pretty neck regardless of how much I love you."

She cringes, whether from the admission of love or death he doesn't know, but she doesn't blink or turn her gaze. She's brave, his Belle.

"When Zelena dropped the dagger, I could finally breathe," he pauses and more quietly says, "I could feel, all the anger, the loss of my only son… no chance of making up all those years to him."

He suddenly feels Belle's hand grasping his. There is compassion filled in her lovely blue eyes, emotion flooding through her face. It makes his own eyes watery and his cheeks flush.

"I'm sorry, Rumple," Belle whispers. She grips his hand firmer before slipping it out of his grasp. "But it doesn't explain this need for power or why you always choose it before love. I don't understand how a man who has so much, continues to lay it to waste."

Belle crosses her arms and leans back into her seat. Her look is fierce now, the compassion hiding in the background. To him, this is the hardest part, the part of the conversation he dreaded from the moment he stepped into her apartment.

"I refuse to be weak."

He could see the anger suffuse her face. It flushes her skin a pretty pink and makes her eyes glitter, the color becoming darker like sapphire.

"If you think your magic makes you strong, you're lying to yourself, Rumple."

"It's all I have to protect what's mine."

"What? A little pawn shop and a house? What else do you have now?"

"I've protected you," he growls. Anger flares at the thought of her dismissing his magic. "I've saved you."

"And lost me to it."

The legs of the chair harshly scrape against the floor as he stands up. He can't sit down anymore. He needs to move. The apartment feels too small for him, stuffy and suffocating. This is the one conversation they have managed to avoid since she stepped foot out of his castle all those years ago. It is the one he knows they should have had before their marriage, when their feelings of love were fresh. Not how it is now, not with this anger deforming it.

"I never want to be controlled again. I never wanted to be a slave to an item. The dagger is always there in my mind, though I know it is safe where it cannot be found. With the hat gone, I'll never be free."

"You had other options," her patience snaps. "We could have gone back to the Enchanted Forest and broken your spell there. I don't know why True Love's kiss doesn't work here for us—"

"I won't go back to that infernal land and be nothing!"

"You wouldn't be 'nothing.' You'd be a husband! I won't be second to your powers so if you still feel that way, walk away."

He falters. He wants to storm out of the door and fume and rage. He wants to break the glass in front of him against a wall. He doesn't get a chance to answer as Belle goes on.

"Rumple, please," she quietly murmurs, and it breaks his heart to hear the sadness coloring her voice. "I would have helped you find a way to free yourself from the dagger. I would have been there for you if you had only asked… but you didn't. I was your wife and you couldn't even trust me. After lying through our whole marriage, I can't trust you."

He knows she's being the upmost sincere. He knows she would have fought tooth and nail to free him from the dagger. She is as courageous as she is beautiful, her soul brighter than any sun.

"What can I do?" he impulsively asks.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to lose you. It killed me to sign those papers, Belle. If you want rid of me, once and for all, tell me so… otherwise, tell me what to do."

The silence weighs heavily on him. The emotions flashing across her face make it difficult for him to read her.

"Give me time," she suddenly says. "And space," she adds. "Seeing you back…I don't know what to do or how I really feel. I want to see if maybe—maybe," she stresses, "we can go on. Together. Only if you trust me and are willing to work on us, work on being the good man I know is lost in you. I know you'll still manipulate people for your own ends, and," she glares at him, "I know you probably haven't given up pursuit of freeing yourself of the dagger. I loved all of you. See if you can let me help this time. I'll be a friend or ally first."

She's so earnest, her eyes a second from shedding tears. He's never heard her speak of her love for all facets of his life. He had no clue. It is like a punch in his gut to realize how little he knew of their love.

"Okay," he answers and steps away, vanishing the glass and preparing to leave. "May I call on you then? In future?"

"Yes," she replies. She gets to her feet and beats him to the door. She holds it open for him. He feels like he should do something in that moment but nothing comes to mind that is appropriate or adequate. He wants to kiss her, hug her, hold her close. He knows it is not welcome. So he gives her a sad, accepting smile.

"And Adam?" he asks. It is the one thing he has skirted around since entering her apartment. He wants to know who this man is exactly.

"A friend," Belle says with a finality that warns him not to push the topic. He can see the late hour has gotten to her. He glances at his watch and sees it is half past three now.

"Good night, Belle," he murmurs as he passes, looking into her eyes one more time.

"Good night, Rumple," she quietly responds. "We'll—we'll take this very slow. One day at a time."

He nods to her and leaves. Rumplestiltskin has work to do.