Notes: So, this was a plot bunny that took hold and wouldn't let go. Robin4 pretty much demanded that I put it up online, so here we are. It assumes that the Sorcerer is the Author and picks up at the end of 4B, after the Queens of Darkness and Rumplestiltskin have attempted to find the Author and force him to rewrite their stories. I'm afraid that said plot bunny did not provide my brain with 4B on whole, but hey, it was Rumbelle I was going to deal with, so it all works out.

Broken

Part One.

They were unconscious, and in all his years as the Dark One, Rumplestiltskin had never come across so much power. It shook him down to the core as if it had found a way into his veins and surged through them to reach even the very tips of his fingers and toes. He stood and stared, the display magnificent, and perhaps he would have been in more awe if he didn't know that he was next. It simply left him terrified.

The Sorcerer moved forward and the power rolled off of him in waves. His apprentice had been nothing next to him and Rumplestiltskin found himself stumbling back, a wall of magic blocking his hasty retreat. On the other side stood Storybrooke's so-called heroes, watching everything unfold just as they had observed him in Zelena's cage. A creature that deserved everything he got and then more. They tolerated him for his knowledge, they allowed him to exist because he proved himself useful now and again, but he was not one of them. He never would be, even though he'd given is very life to save them all.

Villains don't get happy endings.

"This curse plagues your mind and body," the Sorcerer said as he strode for, hand reached out to the cowering Dark One. Not soul, though. He didn't mention soul. He likely thought that Rumplestiltskin no longer had one. "I can rid you of it."

"Tried that, dearie. Your dear heroes got in the way."

"You would not have succeeded."

He didn't bother to explain why, and frankly Rumplestiltskin didn't care. All he cared about was his exit strategy. The one that he didn't have. There wasn't one because every time he reached for the future for a different path they showed one end: his own. "You're going to kill me," he breathed.

"You cannot live without your curse," the Sorcerer answered simply and laid his hand flat against Rumplestiltskin's chest.

Pain surged through him and he felt like the sorcerer was trying to pull his bones out through his skin. Everything was on fire and he loosed a terrible cry that echoed throughout the room. Magic swirled all around them and as he felt himself fading - felt himself giving in - all he could think of was Bae. He would see Bae. That, if nothing else, would let him die in something akin to peace.

A loud tearing sound echoed through the chamber and Rumplestiltskin screamed with it. His curse was being pulled from him in a way he had never thought possible. This man was drawing in out through his pores, the darkness collecting into a ball in his now open palm and the curse's former host went limp, held up by the other's magic.

Rumplestiltskin could hear someone screaming - perhaps even more than one someone, he had no way to be sure - but as he finally gave into it, the thought of his son at the foremost of his mind, he felt the magic keeping him on his feet give and he crashed down to the floor, limbs utterly useless and sprawled. He could hear his own ragged breathing, though, and it took a moment for him to realize the world had not faded around him. He knew death. He knew what it felt like. This was not it.

Dark brown eyes blinked open and he saw the floor. His cheek was pressed against it, but with some effort he got his arms under him, gaining the Sorcerer's attention with the movement. The man's coal black eyes widened in surprise and his gaze flickered to the swirling darkness in his hand. "How is this possible? There should be nothing left. The Dark One's Curse should have consumed your soul."

"Not all of it," Rumplestiltskin managed as he struggled to sit up. He could feel all eyes turned on him, but getting to his feet to die with dignity seemed like a stretch for him in this state. Everything ached and he felt like the curse had tried to latch onto his insides to stay rooted in him. He felt sick and very, very tired. After three centuries as the Dark One, losing his son, and then finally losing the woman he loved, it was beyond time. When the Sorcerer made no move towards him he looked up. "Finish it."

"There is no reason to kill you," the Sorcerer answered as if he were some benevolent god reaching down to a mere man. "You are no longer a threat."

Rage boiled up in him and without warning magic lashed out from the former Dark One, searing the floor and leaving a trail of fire in its wake. It came on so suddenly and with such a burst of emotion that the Sorcerer was pushed back a few steps. With great strain, Rumplestiltskin stumbled to his feet, leaning heavily towards the left to stay off his bad ankle. "I have lost everything," he growled, his voice low and raw. "You will give me at least one thing for it. Send me to my son!"

The Sorcerer blinked at him. "I cannot."

"Oh don't go all high and mighty on me now," Rumplestiltskin raged, his magic - his magic, not the curse's, which was strange within itself - kept him steady enough to take a staggering step forward.

"I can kill you, yes," the Sorcerer answered, "but it will not return you to your son. Your curse has been lifted from you. You would not be returned to that place."

His exhausted mind couldn't wrap itself around the words and his knees went weak, sending him tumbling back to the floor. A terrible sob escaped him and he curled into himself. Even in death he couldn't find his son. He had come back to Storybrooke in search of a way to rewrite his own fate, but now he was certain that it was too far out of his reach. There was no changing it, there was no loophole. Rumplestiltskin was little more than the dust that he lay in.

"Rumple?"

That sweet voice was only insult to injury. Where anger would have risen up within him before he felt only a shattering emptiness now. She was so damnably good, this woman that had loved him, married him, and turned away. She was willing to help the cripple now. Wasn't she just so damnably good?

All he wanted to do was end it.

"Rumple, are you alright?" Belle asked softly and through his blurred vision he could see her heels moving closer to him. She knelt down, knees touching the floor and she bent over.

"Go away," he rasped. It was the best he had. Maybe if they all walked away now - they were good at that, leaving him alone - he could just drift until it ended.

Killing you will not return you to your son.

Could he find no peace anywhere?

"Are you hurt?"

"What do you care?"

She didn't yell at him, nor did she say anything reassuring. Belle loosed a sigh and stood, murmuring softly somewhere a few steps away with her lot. He took the moment to pull himself painfully to his feet, summoning his old cane from his shop with jittery magic, and used it to steady himself. He didn't look back as his name was called, but stumbled out of the house.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Regina. Of course. He turned, knowing she wouldn't give until she was confronted, and a low growl came from him. "Home. Unless Miss Swan in there wishes to arrest me for something, though I've already paid a heavy price for making a go at the same thing you were."

She snorted. "You planning to walk all the way back into town?"

"Looks like my best option," he answered tightly.

"Will you at least talk to you wife before you walk yourself in front of whatever car you find driving down the road on the way?"

"I don't have anything to say."

"Well maybe she does."

"Grand."

His former student reached out and latched onto him. "Rumple, you don't know what she's been through…"

And that did it. He spun and the same powerful magic that had knocked the Sorcerer back inside lashed out at Regina. The former Evil Queen had only a moment to throw up a spell to block the majority of it and she skidded backwards, eyes wide. He didn't want to have the conversation about what anyone else had been through. They didn't care what he had been through. They were allowed to act on impulse on emotions that overwhelmed him, but he was required to reach for some unattainable goal if they were going to even tolerate him any longer. Well, he couldn't make it, and this little, terrible adventure had been proof. He just wanted to be alone. Entirely alone. That was the only way he was safe.

"Running won't help," she called after him.

"Nothing will," he snapped back, "so I don't see where you get to tell me which path to take. It all leads to the same place."

"What's that?"

He shook his head, unwilling to continue. Regina really had been with the Charming little group of heroes too long if she was worrying her pretty little head over him. Normally, she would have been the one to let him be in times like this, but instead she had acted as the distraction when the one person he really didn't want to talk to stepped into his path.

Rumplestiltskin wouldn't hurt her, and they both knew it. He wouldn't lay a finger on the woman that he loved - still loved, despite it all - more than he'd ever loved any woman that had come through his life. She was his flicker of light that in his darkest moments had added hope to it, his True Love, and, he had thought, his salvation from the utter despair that tried to overtake him when Bae had died. She had been, at least for a little while, but it had ended as everything did with him: in disaster.

"I know you don't want to talk right now," she said softly and he sneered.

"What an apt observation."

He tried to move past her and she reached out, her fingers latching onto his coat. At least here he'd managed to look a bit more like himself. At least he had before he'd gone toe-to-toe with the Sorcerer. He wasn't nearly as ratty looking as he'd been when he'd finally made it to New York City after his banishment, but he certainly felt it. He didn't even have the quiet, dark voice of his curse whispering in his ear now. He was completely alone, and in that, he wanted the others to remember that that's what they'd bestowed on him. They hadn't cared to free him from the Wicked Witch, where he might have been able to find a way to save Baelfire and defeat her, and they didn't care what he suffered after. They were too caught up - Belle included - in their own thoughts of good and bad, right and wrong, black and white. It was all a lie to make themselves feel better. They were heroes. They did no wrong.

His wife grimaced at his words. "Rumple," she spoke softly. "I just… want to make sure you're alright."

"Yes yes. Just fine. Does that appease your conscious?" he snarled, trying to break free. He wasn't as quick with his limp back, and his magic was too off-kilter to risk trying to wrap it in a brace and walk on it as he had since Neverland. If he did, he'd risk that brace snapping it and shattering the bones all over again.

"Please," she begged. "Just let me say something to you?"

"Why should I? I was never given a chance to explain. Instead you just booted me over the town line and left me for dead."

She blinked. He hardly ever used that tone with her anymore, not without a hasty apology tumbling from his lips immediately following. None came, though, and her lips twitched downward. "I hardly left you for dead."

"Really? No money, no way out. A cripple in the middle of the forest has a hell of a time getting even the two miles to a diner, did you know that?"

He saw the flash of hurt that streaked through her blue eyes, but it didn't make him feel better. "I knew you were clever enough to figure it out."

"I'm sure you did," he managed, unable to meet her gaze. "Rumplestiltskin is always so damn clever, isn't he? Well, I wasn't very clever here, was I? Is that what you want to hear, Belle? I failed at everything I've ever tried to achieve. Now let go of me and let me suffer alone." He tore loose of her grasp and refused to look at her as he stormed away.

He had wanted to go home, but he realized about halfway into town that Belle would likely still be staying in the large, three story house they'd shared. He didn't want to see her again. He couldn't see her again. It just hurt too much.

Rumplestiltskin was leaning heavily on his cane by the time he reached the main street. The familiar stretch of asphalt would lead him to his shop and there he had every intention of locking himself away and not coming back out. The least that the Sorcerer - the Author - could have done was to take his life. It would have been one small act of mercy, he was sure, but perhaps heroes just didn't show mercy to villains. Well, at least not villains like him. They prefered him to remain alive, suffering, and useful. All he wanted - all he had ever wanted before all the distractions hit - was to be with his son.

He hadn't expected there to be a car waiting outside of the shop, nor for the woman that sat in the driver's seat to be there. Regina stepped out into the cool night air. It had to be nearly morning now and she didn't look like she'd been home. It was too little too late, though, and he offered the best glare he could muster. "Go away."

"That seems to be your running mantra tonight," she answered. "Not happening."

His ankle chose that moment to give, folding up under him and sending him crashing to the street. It wasn't the first time it had done this since he's left the Sorcerer's house, but this time he didn't get back up. He sat there in a pile in the dust, emptiness threatening to overwhelm him.

Regina moved slowly towards him, hands outward to show she wasn't there to threaten, and sank to one knee in front of him. "Please go," he whispered.

"Those pleases haven't worked in a long time, Rumple," she said softly. "And right now, I'm the closest thing to a friend that you have. Let me help you?"

"Why?" He hated the way his voice broke on even a single word. He didn't want her help, but he didn't have the strength to say that now.

"Because I've been where you are. I know how it feels, and it hurts like hell." She paused and pulled in a deep breath. "Enough to make someone think that casting a curse that will make everyone else as miserable as you feel will somehow make things better."

A raw sounding chuckle escaped him. "You can tell Miss Swan and her parents I'm not going to level their little town."

"I don't think you could right now if you wanted to."

He should have been insulted, he knew. Centuries of perfected self-preservation skills wanted to assure her he was no less of a sorcerer without his curse, even if he wasn't sure what his new limitations were, but he couldn't bring himself to. He didn't care how weak it made him appear. He was weak. He'd failed in everything, just as he'd told Belle.

"Grandpa?"

Rumplestiltskin looked up at that voice and saw Henry just behind his mother. From the look on the boy's face he'd been dozing in the car while they waited, but had roused when he realized Regina had spotted him. Now he stood watching his crumpled grandfather with a worried expression and he covered the space between them after only the briefest of hesitation. "Mom said you came home," he said. "Are you okay?"

Regina had told him that he'd come back to Storybrooke, but he wondered if she'd mentioned how he'd gotten there. He'd needed the Queens of Darkness to help him break through the enchantment, to find the damn Author, but like everything else it had gone so wrong. Belle had told him once that he was a man that made wrong choices and it was true. Even when he had the best of intentions it always managed to come back and bite him eventually.

"Grandpa?"

"No Henry, I'm not," he managed.

Henry's expression grew more worried and Regina turned back to him "Were you going to sleep here?"

"Well, I wasn't going home, if that's what you're asking."

"Alright," she said and he didn't like her tone. She motioned to Henry and red smoke surrounded all three of them. He was redeposited on his feet, leaving him to find balance quickly if he didn't want to find himself face first against her polished floors.

Regina stood with a look that said she was tired and didn't want to be messed with. "There's a guest room on the ground floor you can use. Bathroom, clean towels, the works. Get some sleep, Rumple. You look like hell."

He blinked at her. "Why?" he asked again before he could stop himself.

"I already told you that. Henry, could you make sure he finds everything?"

The teen nodded and Rumplestiltskin found himself being led into a spare bedroom by his son's son. He didn't speak, but nodded his understanding whenever Henry showed him something new. He did manage a short thank you when he finished and somehow didn't cry when the boy wrapped his arms very suddenly around his middle. The former Dark One froze and his grandson tightened his grip just a little. "I'm sorry."

"For what, lad?" he managed to get past the sob building in his throat.

"Snooping."

Despite it all, Rumplestiltskin chuckled and managed to wrap an arm around Bae's son. "It's okay. I knew."

"I really did have a good time. You know, when I wasn't scrubbing the floors and stuff. You're not going to leave again, are you?"

"I don't know," his grandfather said honestly. He didn't want to stay, but there was nothing out there either. There was nothing in all the worlds for him anymore.

Henry released him and offered a strained smile. "I'll see you tomorrow though, right?"

Why Henry cared, he couldn't be sure, but there was something shining in his eyes that made him nod. "Of course," he whispered.

He left him alone then, murmuring his good night's and off to his old room up the stairs. Silence filled the void that was left and the bit of light that had somehow pierced through the inky darkness was again swallowed up in his absence and Rumplestiltskin sank to the bed that he'd been given and the sob that he'd been forcing down found its way up his throat. He curled up without bothering to pull the covers back at all and let himself sink.

"He's in really bad shape, isn't he?"

Regina looked up, toothbrush still stuffed into the back of her mouth, at the sound of her son's voice. Henry had always been perceptive. If he hadn't been, she was sure that he would have written her off as a villain that could never be helped and wouldn't have looked back ages ago. She hadn't hid anything from him about what had happened. He hadn't actually seen his grandfather since his return, but he'd worried for him, just as he'd worried for Belle, even though he'd assured the little bookworm in a very Henry-like fashion that True Love had to be fought for, even through mistakes. Even through betrayals on both ends.

The former Evil Queen rinsed the toothpaste out of her mouth. "No, he doesn't seem to be in a very good place, does he?"

"He's not fighting," Henry said thoughtfully. "Grandpa fights for what he wants, but it's like this just sucked it right out of him."

Regina knew he was right. She'd seen the dulled expression that had nothing to do with being separated from his curse as some of the others were likely to think at first. If that were all it was, he'd be angry. Rumplestiltskin would be fighting and raging and plotting on a way to get it back. Now, though, he had hit the end. She wasn't sure just what he thought he would gain by allying with Maleficent's little band, but it had failed. It wasn't as if she'd been able to convince the Author either, but at least he hadn't ripped her hope apart like he had her former mentor. Yes, Rumplestiltskin was usually a fighter, but there was a day when life either changed or the fight was driven out of you. She'd reached that point once, and the only reason she hadn't ended up a broken pile of shattered bones at the bottom of a castle tower was because a fairy had reached a hand out to her. She hadn't repaid Tink with any kindness, but all these years and so many, many hard lessons later, maybe she could help Rumple. Or at least keep him from killing himself.

"Can we help him?" Henry asked.

"If he'll let us," his mother answered honestly. "He's a stubborn man and he's lost a lot."

Her son nodded. "He just has to fight. Not... Not like with magic, you know. He has to want things to get better and believe that they can."

"You sound like your grandmother," Regina teased and Henry grinned.

"Learned it from her. Are you going to check on him before you go to bed?"

"I'll look in on him. Promise."

Regina kissed him goodnight and watched her adopted son head off to his room. He'd asked to stay the night when she had decided to go after Rumple, and she was glad he did, even if the sun would be up soon. Rumple would take Henry's worry better than he would hers. Henry was blood, after all, and Regina and he had their share of a vicious past.

Once she was certain that Henry was in bed and his lights had been out she slipped her robe around her shoulders and padded down the stairs to the guest room. The door was still open just a little and when she pushed it enough that she could slip inside she saw the bathroom light peeking out from behind another partially closed door. It shed just enough light on the room that she could see Rumple curled up on top of the bed, back to the door, and he didn't appear to have bothered to get comfortable. His shoes were still on, his coat pulled tight across his shoulders with the way his arms were stretched, and when she rounded the bed she found his dark eyes staring blankly at the far wall. He didn't focus on her, even as she took a seat on the edge of the bed. "Rumple?" she called quietly and for a moment he hardly looked like he was breathing.

He pushed out a long breath of air through his nose as if in response, though, and she relaxed a little. "Most people at least take off their coat and tie to sleep, you know."

He didn't say anything in response and she reached forward, touching his shoulder lightly. Rumplestiltskin jolted, as if coming out of a nightmare, and he blinked several times as his gaze fell to focus on her. She frowned. "Rumple? Can you hear me?"

"Yes. Of course," he answered roughly and she couldn't help but see how ill he looked even in the dim light. She could remember how awestruck she felt when she'd first met him and she would come by for lessons one day, be waved off for some project he was in the middle of, and come back a week later to find he hadn't appeared to move. He would fixate. While he could forget things like eating and sleeping as the Dark One in the Enchanted Forest, here in the Land Without Magic there were more dire consequences.

"How long has it been since you've eaten?"

"I'm not hungry."

"That's not what I asked," Regina huffed and she reached forward. His skin was warm, like a fever was trying to dig its claws into him. "What could this do to you? Having your curse forced out I mean."

He looked like he might continue to ignore her for a moment, but finally he drew in a long breath and loosed it as a sigh. "I don't know."

"You must have some idea. The Author seemed surprised that you survived it."

Rumplestiltskin had always loved flaunting his vast knowledge at any point possible, but now it seemed like a struggle for him to bother with the explanation. "Most Dark Ones give their entire souls to the curse. I had someone to hang on for."

"Neal," Regina murmured and he nodded. "And now? Could this still kill you?"

"If I'm lucky."

The words struck her and she frowned again. "I'm not going to let you die."

"Why the sudden attachment?"

She snorted and stood, rounding the bed and motioning for him to sit up. When he didn't, she started with tugging his shoes off. "Henry's worried about you," she told him frankly.

He tensed when she took hold of the shoe on his right foot and she eased her touch. "Sorry."

"Leave it," he hissed and tried to pull his leg away from her. She'd seen him limp about Storybrooke for thirty years, but she'd always thought it was something the curse had given him and that he'd been stuck with. The way he'd crumbled when he tried to put weight on it said differently, though, and she let him peel the shoe off himself. His movements were slow and sluggish, but once the show was gone he shrugged the coat off, pulled his tie from around his neck, and tossed both to the floor. "Now will you leave me alone and stop trying to mother me? Never thought I'd missed the days of you wishing me dead."

Regina shrugged. "I doubt I ever would have killed you directly. The threats were always nice, and if you happened to die along with everyone else, well that's just life." He didn't seem amused by the statement and merely curled up where he'd been before. He looked utterly miserable.

"Henry and I are going to Granny's in the morning. We'll bring you something back."

He didn't say anything as she started for the door, and she was fairly certain that he wouldn't want to eat then any more than he wanted to eat now. His curse being ripped from him shouldn't be killing him slowly, but she could see where the shock of the loss and a lack of a will to fight it could put him in a very dangerous place. If they didn't pull him back he might simply give into it and waste away. Regina couldn't make her former mentor want to live, but she could damn well make it difficult to die.

Henry had peaked in before they left for Granny's the next morning. His grandfather was curled up on the top of the blankets and looked to be shivering a little, so he'd gone to grab one of the quilts from the rack and covered him up as best as he could. He didn't wake or even stir, so his grandson left him there, whispering promises that he'd be back with breakfast shortly.

He'd never really thought that Mr Gold looked old as he was growing up. There was always something timeless about him and he'd assumed it was because he was surrounded by so many timeless bits and pieces in his shop. Now, of course, he knew that it was his curse keeping him young and mostly healthy. He looked so small curled up on that big bed, expensive suit twisted up and partially laid out on the floor. Henry hated to see him like that.

Everyone had been surprised when Belle had turned up with a dagger and no Dark One in tow. The rumour had spread quickly enough that she'd dragged him out to the town line in a furious state, but no one had thought she'd force him over it. She hadn't come out of their home for a week, and it had been Emma that had finally gone over there to talk with her. Together with Mary Margaret, they coaxed her to Granny's where she had sat and stared at one burger after another each day she came in. Archie had tried to help as best as he could, but just like Rumplestiltskin, their help could only go as far as Belle would let it. At least she wasn't wasting away alone.

Henry and Regina walked into Granny's and the teen spotted his step-grandmother sitting in a booth alone. He'd been half afraid that what he had heard of from the night before would have sent her straight back into self-imposed exile, but there she was in her same booth. She was staring at her pancakes - maybe through her pancakes was closer - and didn't even seem to notice when Henry walked up. "Hey, Belle."

She startled, blinking at him with a round, sleep-deprived stare. She'd been crying again too. "Hey, Henry. How are you?"

"Okay, I guess. Mom got Grandpa to come home with us last night."

That seemed to catch her attention. "How's he doing?"

His lips twitched downward. "Not good."

"How so?"

"He's just really sad. And sick. Mom doesn't know if he just hasn't been taking care of himself or if it's because the Author took his curse away, or what, but we can't stay long." He paused just a couple of beats. "Do you want to come check on him?"

"I don't think he wants to talk to me."

Henry shrugged. "Doesn't mean you can't come see him. He doesn't want to talk to anyone right now, so it's not just you at least."

That pulled a small smile from her. "I suppose it really couldn't hurt, could it? It looks like your mom has her hands full. I'll just help you guys carry the food."

"Exactly," Henry answered. This was perfect. Belle wanted to see him. Grandpa really wanted to see her too, he just didn't know it. They could talk and work past whatever terrible things had happened between them and they'd love each other again. They were True Love, after all. They had to be together. If they could have a happy ending, if they could change their fate, then maybe Regina could too. He just wanted his family to be happy, and if he could do anything to make it so, Henry was all in.

Belle didn't know what had possessed her to agree. She shouldn't be rushing off to check on him. She came back every time and that's what encouraged him to continue pulling all of the absurdly stupid stunts that he pulled, but when Henry had told her that he was ill and wouldn't speak to anyone, all she could think of was the terrifyingly pained expression he'd worn as the Sorcerer had ripped the Dark One's Curse from him. It shouldn't have been possible to do, as far as she was aware, but it had been done, and now all she could think of was if she didn't go, she might never see him again. If anything happened to him, she couldn't live with herself.

Regina hadn't argued when her adopted son told her very clearly that Belle was going to help them take the food home. It was obvious that the two of them could handle it, but the former Evil Queen handed her a bag nevertheless. They'd put their own past behind them while Rumple was away, and Belle thought that she really had learned to try to be better than she had once been. She had let go of her True Love for his family's sake, and nothing could have been harder for her.

She was pretty sure she was making a mistake by the time they pulled into the driveway. Henry turned to her with that hope-filled expression that encouraged her to follow him, but her heart sank a little lower with every step. There had been so many lies. Their entire relationship had been based on them. He'd told her he was giving her his trust when he gave her the dagger. She had known it was one of his grand gestures - he did tend to love those - and had been surprised when he refused to take it back. She had tried and tried, and it would have been so simple for him to have accepted it back and told her the truth right then, but he hadn't. Just like he'd made her believe that he was willing to give the gauntlet up to save her from the Queens of Darkness all those years ago. Obviously he wasn't quite so opposed to them now. Maleficent, Cruella, and Ursula had been laid out easily by the Sorcerer, but there was no question that Rumple had been working with them towards…. whatever goal they'd been working towards. She still didn't know. They'd barely spoken since his return to Storybrooke, and he hadn't relayed his plan in between the few harsh words delivered.

She was simmering by the time she realized that Henry had stopped and the teen pushed the door open. "Grandpa? We have breakfast."

Rumplestiltskin lay curled under a quilt and looked very small where he was. He didn't move, didn't speak, and when Henry moved over so that he was in his line of sight he must have said something because his grandson frowned deeply. "If you won't eat, will you at least talk to Belle?"

Even from the doorway she could see his muscles tense and he sat up, looking a bit dizzy with the movement, and turned to look at her. She couldn't offer him a smile or really any expression at all. Every emotion she could feel seemed to be rushing through her. She was angry and she was hurt, she loved him and wanted to help him, she felt betrayed and lied to and so very, very helpless. All she'd wanted to do was to set him back on the right path, and she'd given herself up to do it. She should never have gone back when she told him she didn't want to see him again. She should have known that things would end this way. It would have made everything easier to have ended it then.

As he stared at her, those dark eyes of his filled with more hurt than a human being should be able to feel, she tried to remind herself that he had died to save her life. His son had been brutally murdered, and he'd been held captive by the woman who had killed him. She didn't know how to feel. Everything worked against each other, a conundrum of conflicting personality traits that made up the man that she had thought she loved. The man that she had married and given her life to.

I will go with you. Forever.

His expression wasn't that of the golden eyed imp now. It was the same terrified look he'd given her when she backed him up to the line, the dagger clutched in her hand, and she had refused to listen to any of his pleas. He was going to lie, she had been sure of it at the time, but now she didn't know. Now it just ached. Maybe this was a mistake.

"Belle," he managed, his voice raspy and pained. He did look ill.

Henry left the food by the bed and walked around. He paused and leaned in to whisper directly into Belle's ear so that his grandfather couldn't hear him. "True Love's Kiss," was all he said and she did everything she could to bite off the mirthless chuckle. He was so young, so naive. It didn't matter how much they loved each other if they couldn't trust one another.

They were alone now and Belle still hadn't moved. Rumple hadn't either and they might have remained frozen like that for hours if she didn't force herself to do something. She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders just a little. "Rumple, I just wanted to-"

"Yes yes," he snapped. "I'm fine."

And just like that, the walls were up and he all but threw himself back down to the bed, his back to her, and she felt her temper flare. "You don't have to be such a child about it."

He snorted from his place, but didn't dignify her statement with a verbal response.

"Rumple, look at me. After everything, you owe me that."

"What do I owe you?" he growled, and when he got his arms under him to push himself up she tried not to focus on how badly they were shaking. "Please, Belle, tell me, because whatever it is you know I won't live up to it. I tried to tell you. I warned you more times than I could count! I'm not a good man. I am a monster. I am a beast. It's not my fault if the man you claimed to love is whatever fairytale prince you've tried to fashion me into in your own mind!"

The outburst left him heaving for breath and left her fuming. "Excuse me?" she growled, taking a firm step forward. "How dare you? I loved you, Rumple. I tried to be there for you, and all you know how to do is to push people away. You never let me in. You never trusted me. If you could have just been honest-"

"You would have told me no! Dammit, Belle, I was doing it for us!"

"You were doing it for yourself or you would have come to me and we would have made the decision together!"

"I-" The argument was cut off by a deep, ragged cough that shook his thin frame and he doubled over.

Belle stood there for a moment, and the fact that she was wondering if it was an act to distract from the argument that needed to be had hurt worse than his words did. This was so much deeper than words. This was truth, and it was passed due. The coughing didn't stop though and after a moment he didn't seem to be able to catch a breath, so she stepped forward, worry overriding her anger. "Rumple?"

He shuddered as he slowly regained control, hands shaking as they came away from his mouth and he looked like he might be sick. She leaned over and grabbed a trashcan, but he waved it off. "It's passed," he managed, still gulping in air like he'd been drowning. It was several more moments before he looked up. "I did give the gauntlet up," he whispered. "I went back for it after, but I had no choice at the time. Not if I wanted you to live."

She stared at him. "That was just one thing of many, Rumple," she whispered, her voice breaking.

"The dagger?"

"One thing of many," she repeated, "but probably the rawest wound we're dealing with right now."

He grimaced and tried to sit up a little more. "I was afraid."

"Of what? I never wanted the damn thing."

"I was afraid you would," he snapped, that terrified expression returning, like he'd said something that would shatter his fragile little world.

She watched him double over again and this time she took a seat next to him, one hand reaching carefully out to him and her fingers stroked his hair in a soothing motion as he fought it off. He struggled to breathe for several long, painful moments. Finally she saw the tears that were beginning to slip down his cheeks and he squeezed his eyes shut against them. "It was so much better in the cold and the dark. So much better dead."

Belle felt her heart clench at the words and took his hand. "Please don't say that."

"It's true. Bae was alive. You thought I was a hero. No one could control me." He was spiralling, she could hear it in his voice and he rocked forward again, a sob catching every other word and she knew that everything that had been fit so firmly behind his walls was breaking free. "Time would go on and you'd see what I was and you'd take it. You'd use it. Everyone tries. Everyone-"

She squeezed his fingers. "I wouldn't do that to you, Rumple."

"But you did."

Belle blinked, feeling a sob that had been staying obediently down in her chest bubble up. She had proven his paranoia correct not once, but twice. After what Zelena had done. He wasn't the only one at fault, she had known that, but seeing her own mistakes so blatantly plastered in front of her was painful.

"Loved," he whispered brokenly.

"What?"

"You said you loved me. Not that you do."

"Not all of us think every word through when we're upset," she murmured.

"But we often say what we mean when we don't." He looked up, their eyes meeting. "Words have meaning, Belle. They have-"

Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.

She leaned forward, their lips touching and she silenced him with a kiss. It was short, but she could feel the spark that tied them together. It wasn't the only thing that tied them together, but it was what they had clung to when they should have been learning to trust each other above all else. He had never told her what happened when Zelena held him, he had never asked her to visit Bae's grave with him, and he had gone as far as to give her a fake dagger to make her think she had control over him. "I still love you, Rumple, but until we can trust each other, I don't know how we can be together."

TBC