"Well at least that's out of the way," Jane shrugged, taking her phone back from Rumples lightly shaking hands.

Rumple seemed to be in a trance like state after the phone call, and she couldn't blame him really. She could only imagine what the whole ordeal must be like for him. Well, she had some insight into what he was feeling. But finding your father, and finding out you're a father and talking to your true love for the first time in fifteen years, well those are two very different situations.

"Well…I'm uh, actually pretty tired," Jane said, standing awkwardly near the end of the couch. Briefly, she wondered if he'd actually heard her, but the moment before she was about to repeat herself, he seemed to snap out of whatever had him so deep in thought.

"Oh. Right, yes. You can have the bedroom. It's right at the end of the hall," Rumple muttered, his gaze locked on his hands tightly gripping the handle of his cane. He gestured towards the hallway on the other side of the room.

Of course he would offer her the bed, what kind of a gentleman -or father for that matter- would he look like if he didn't? That, and the fact that he knew he wouldn't get a moment of rest no matter where he slept, meant that the couch would be his bed tonight.

"You're sure?" Jane asked, eyeing his bad leg. "I don't want to banish you to the couch if it's gonna be too-" She stopped short of finishing her thought when Rumple visibly flinched, and she realized why. "Oh. Wow, bad choice of words. Sorry…I know that's an uh...a sore subject."

Rumple shifted his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably, loosening and tightening the white-knuckle grip on his cane. "Your mother told you…about us. About what happened?" It wasn't a question really, she obviously knew, which meant she knew what drove her mother to banishing him.

"Once I was old enough to wonder where my dad was, she told me," Jane said, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

"So you know why she did it. You know what I did, and yet you chooseto stay in my home. In the home of a monster." He couldn't look at her. When he looked at Jane he saw Belle, and he feared that if he looked into her eyes when she answered, he would see the same pain and hurt and disappointment that he had caused in her mother's.

"You're not a monster," Jane stated firmly, dropping her backpack and taking a step closer. "And I know how many times my mom had to tell you that, because she told me. And she told me what you did, and yes, what you did may have been…monstrous. But she also told me about the good times, before things got bad; she told me everything. And I'm telling you right now that the man that she told me about may have done monstrous things, but he wasn't a monster."

Rumple stood shocked, slack jawed, and wide eyed, staring at the remarkable young woman in front of him. This girl who a few hours ago, was just another passenger on the subway, and had now become so incredibly dear to him. He was poised to reply, but it died on his lips, and he quickly pressed his mouth into a firm line.

"And don't even think about saying something stupid like "I'm just a villain and villains don't get happy endings", because that's crap," Jane said sharply, imitating his accent.

Her impersonation was laughable really, and had the circumstances been any different he probably would have laughed, but this time he only blinked at her until she placed a gentle hand on his arm and said "You're not a monster. Monsters don't love the way you loved her."

At his silence, Jane dropped her hand to her side with a defeated sigh and picked up her bag again, turning and making her way toward the hall.

"Love," Rumple piped up, before she made it out of sight, causing to her turn and quirk her brow. "The way I love her," he clarified with a hint of a smile.

Jane smiled brightly and wished him a good night before disappearing down the hall.

Rumple did little more than stare at the ceiling that night –or morning, rather. He tried to close his eyes and sleep, but every time he did, that photo of Belle, thin and pale, forced itself into his mind.

He had done that to her.

Jane could reassure him all she wanted but there was no way he would ever believe otherwise. It was his fault. Had he went back, had he put her first, had he told her the truth in the first place…none of this would be happening. He could have healed her before the sickness overwhelmed her body, and he would have; no matter the cost. He didn't have that choice now though; it was too late for that. But maybe he would have another chance at making the right choice.

So, with thoughts of second chances and happy endings, he drifted off, oblivious to the fact that miles and miles away, his true love was lying awake.

Belle couldn't have gone to sleep if she tried, and tried she had.

She turned on her side in her large bed, and stared at the clock. It was nearly 3 o'clock in the morning.

After the phone call, Ruby had insisted on staying with her, and she had stayed awake talking to Belle about the situation for a few hours before falling asleep next to her. Belle wished she were so lucky.

Had she really been lying awake for over two hours?

She supposed that wasn't surprising, given the circumstances.

Rumple was coming back, and the conflicting waves of emotion washing over her were keeping her wide awake. She should have been happy, she knew. And she was happy, in a strange anxious way, but she was also terrified. Not of him hurting her, Rumple would never, but of what him returning meant. After all those years, after what she had done, how would he react to seeing her again? Would he forgive her? Would he want to repair the happiness they had, once upon a time? Or would he hate her for it all, for everything she took from him?

The very real possibility of the latter is what terrified her the most.

She wouldn't blame him if he did hate her. She had banished him, left him crippled and powerless with nothing but the clothes on his back. But so much worse than that, she kept his child from him.

She could have gone out and found him. She could have searched far and wide to find him and bring him home and let him at least be a part of his daughter's life, if not a part of hers. But she didn't, and for years she wasn't exactly sure why that was.

At first she had told herself that it was better, that she was doing the right thing. She had rationalized that it was for her child's safety that she didn't search for him, and that had made sense in the beginning, that was good enough for a while. But it didn't take long for her mindset to change.

Rumplestiltskin would have never hurt his own child for any reason. No matter his motivations, she knew that to be true; she didn't know why she would ever doubt that. But she still didn't search for him. She still stayed in Storybrooke.

Why? That was the question that haunted her. Why did I keep him from knowing his daughter?

She knew now. And the answer didn't soothe her. There was no reasonable explanation or perfect excuse. No.

It was cowardice.

It was selfishness.

First it had been fear that kept her from going after him. Fear of being broken again. Fear of being lied to and tricked again. That was reasonable, she knew, but still, doubt nagged at her. Yes, what he had done was horrible, but did she know why he did what he did? She hadn't even let him explain. Maybe if she had, she wouldn't have banished him. Maybe she could have helped him…and she hadn't given him the chance. But she supposed that giving him another chance would have been making it too easy, letting him get away with everything…and that wouldn't have been the right choice either.

Belle realized that maybe there wasn't a "right choice". She had done what she had thought best at the time, and then she regretted it. How could she know if she wouldn't also regret a different decision? The choice had been made, there was nothing she could do to change it, and she made peace with that.

But after much time and much thought, she wondered if he had learned his lesson. Wondered if she found him, would he understand why she did what she did, and try to be a better man?

She knew he would; if not for her, for their child. But by the time she came to this conclusion, she was heavily pregnant, and there was no way anyone in Storybrooke –especially Ruby- would have let her go on a trek into an unknown world to find a man that at that point could have been anywhere.

Then Jane was born, and everything changed, and once again she was given another excuse –albeit a reasonable one- not to go after Rumple. She had an infant that needed care, and a steady home, and constant attention, not an adventure to God knows where. So instead, Belle waited, and hoped that Rumple would come walking across the town line and back into her life, and they could work things out and everything would be okay again.

It was a pretty dream.

By the time Jane was old enough that Belle again had a chance at leaving Storybrooke for her search, they had both gotten into the routine of this new life. She didn't forget about Rumple, she thought of him always, but Jane brought her such immense indescribable happiness and love, that a part of the void he left was filled. And so, Belle took the easiest route. The route she knew to be cowardly.

Because if she was to find Rumple then, with a baby on her hip, with his baby on her hip, how would he have ever forgiven her? How could he look at her and not hate her for keeping his baby from him?

So she didn't search. She stayed. And she convinced herself that there are no "right" or "wrong" choices in life.

There are only choices; choices that have different outcomes, and different effects. Choices that are complicated and hard to decide upon, choices that you ultimately come to regret.

And it was just another choice.

The next time Belle looked at the clock it was 5 am.

Jane and Rumple would be waking up in a few hours…and then –hopefully- they would be on their way home.

Rumple had already been awake for hours preparing for their journey by the time Jane came groggily stumbling into the kitchen.

"Coffee or tea?" Rumple asked when she took a seat on the only stool at his kitchen counter

"Coffee pleas-" she answered, cut short by a long yawn.

As Rumple poured his daughter her morning coffee he thought about how happy this scene made him. It felt natural. To wake up and know she's in the other room, to say good morning when she wakes up, to pour her coffee while she sit's half-awake in the kitchen. Even having only just met her, having her with him, it just felt right. Like that's how it always was. Like how a family is supposed to be; almost.

But Belle wasn't there.

"Milk and sugar?" he asked

"Both. Lots please."

Just like her mother, more milk and sugar than coffee.

As he poured the milk he thought about what it would be like if Belle was there.

What it would be like to see Belle come stumbling into the kitchen still partially asleep, kiss their daughter on the forehead and wait for him to pour her tea. To catch her smiling at him out of the corner of his eye because he still remembers how she takes her tea; a spoon of honey and a dash of milk.

That was all he wanted in that moment; that domesticity that he and his beloved Belle had for such a short time…such a short time before he brought it all crashing down.

The spoon he had been using to scoop sugar into Jane's coffee clattered into the mug as he suppressed a broken sound from escaping his throat. He needed to get out of the room before he broke down for the third time that morning.

"Here's your coffee. I'm going to shower and then we'll talk about what we're doing," he said, thankful that Jane was still too tired to notice his quickly deteriorating emotional state.

Avoiding the view of himself in the mirror, he quickly undressed, not letting himself cry until he was safely under the scalding stream of water.

Rumple didn't think he'd cried as much as he had in the past 12 hours since the first few days of being banished.

He hadn't been able to stop then; everything hurt. His ankle had seared with pain, his knees ached, his throat and eyes burned from his endless sobs, and worst of all his chest ached with the loss of the only good thing left in his life.

Some people would argue that a broken heart is not a physical pain. Those people haven't experienced true heartbreak.

Heartbreak was the most agonizing pain Rumplestiltskin had ever felt. It's a pain that had been with him so consistently throughout his long life that the dull ache in his chest had become a familiar weight on his soul; a weight that had lifted when he fell in love with Belle, and returned in full force when he betrayed her so fully that she, the most forgiving human being he had ever known, couldn't forgive him.

It had dulled over time, just like it had after he lost Bae the first time. It faded to a faint and constant reminder of his mistakes. And then the moment Jane had said his name, the ache deepened and spread, and hadn't dulled since.

He sunk down under the beating spray of water and let it wash away his tears until they slowed, and still he sat with his knees to his chest, hoping the burn of scalding water would distract from the pain in his heart. But nothing could stop him from thinking about Belle.

Granted, he was still almost always thinking of Belle in some way or another, however small. But now he couldn't stop looking back on how happy they were, how blissfully oblivious to the pain awaiting them in their near future.

He kept coming back to one memory in particular. It wasn't an important event or a memorable date, but for some reason it stuck.

It had only been a week after the wedding and they were doing the dishes for the first time as a married couple, which Belle was positively giddy about. Half the dishes were chipped, their shirts were soaked, and he had been in a ridiculously playful mood, so for some unknown reason, he had decided pouring a glass of water on his wife's head would be a good idea. Of course, it was a wonderful idea. Because she picked up a pot of water and sloshed the whole thing over his front. That led to him throwing her over his shoulder, and holding her wiggling form under the freezing spray of the shower.

They had made love that night, just like every other night, except this time they were soaked in freezing soapy water. They had fallen into bed fully clothed, effectively ruining a perfectly good set of silk sheets, and slowly but surely removed each item of cold wet clothing, giving chaste kisses on each newly exposed section of skin.

They had bumped noses when they both went left for a kiss, causing Belle to burst into a fit of giggles that could only be remedied by Rumple gently catching her lip between his teeth and slowly thrusting into her, replacing her giggles with gasps.

Then something had come over her, a mischievous glint in her eye that told him she had a plan. And before he could think what on earth that plan was, her fingertips were pressing into either side of his ribs and she was tickling him. He wasn't sure what she intended to happen, since she was in fact, tickling him during sex, but he had snorted out a laugh and started wiggling under her fingertips, causing him to thrust awkwardly into her, electing little gasps from them both in-between giggles.

It hadn't been slow or sensual or even romantic, but it was one of his favorite memories, because they were happy. They were so, so happy; happy and in love. Two things that they haven't been in so long.

Reluctantly, Rumple removed himself the shower, dressing in a clean blue dress shirt and black pants, piece by piece adding another layer of his armor against the world. First belt, then tie, then waistcoat, then jacket, until he was fully armored and ready for the battle that was living in this world.

To his surprise he found Jane already dressed and fully alert, sitting at the kitchen counter when he came back.

"I made eggs since that's the only thing you had in your fridge. I hope you don't mind," she said, forking a piece of scrambled egg into her mouth.

She certainly knew how to make herself at home, and he inwardly smirked at the fact.

"No, no it's no problem at all. Thank you. I'm sorry I didn't ask if you were hungry, I don't know what I was thinking," he apologized as he emptied the remaining eggs into a bowl

"It's fine. Really, I know how to make myself breakfast," she replied with a smile, "And you can just make it up to me when we get back to Storybrooke. You can make me your famous pancakes." She looked almost giddy about the idea.

"Well I don't know if I'd call them famous, but Belle always seemed to love them." He smiled at the memory of waking his wife up with breakfast in bed; chocolate chip pancakes always were a hit. "I really only made those a few times…of course, she would remember." His smile softened. Not only did Belle remember those little, seemingly meaningless things, she found them important enough to tell their daughter.

"I told you she tells me everything. Even the little things like that. Actually, especially the little things," she said as she deposited her plate in the sink. "I think the little moments are important though, don't you think? Life is made up of moments like that."

"You're very wise for your age you know," he replied, smirking.

"Well, yeah. But that was a line from The Vow, so I'm not gonna take credit for that one."

"The Vow? Did someone get married? Was it Miss Swan? She did seem smitten with that pirate," Rumple asked, leaning against the counter to eat his eggs.

"Uhm. No. The Vow is a movie about this couple and there's a car crash and- you know what it doesn't really matter," she said, furrowing her brow. "And Emma definitely didn't marry Killian."

He thought he heard her chuckle and murmur something along the lines of "You're in for a surprise", but that may have just been his imagination.

"Anyway, how are we getting to Storybrooke? Do you have a car?" Jane asked.

"Actually, no, but that's what I was doing before you woke up. I think I might have enough money stashed away to buy a used car. Used meaning, very, very used," Rumple replied, stabbing a piece of egg with his fork and examining it before putting it in his mouth.

"We could just take the bus you know. That's how I got here," Jane said with raised eyebrows, as if buying a car was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard.

"Yes, and I'm guessing you had to walk at least a few miles from Storybrooke to the nearest bus stop." Pointing to his ankle he continued, "Walking that far isn't exactly an option for me."

Jane sighed and chewed her lip "Okay. So we have to buy a car, but where are we going to find one?"

"Ah, you underestimate me." Rumple smirked, placing his half eaten bowl of eggs in the sink and going to retrieve a newspaper from the couch. "I already found one," he said, holding the newspaper out to Jane and pointing to a highlighted section.

She knit her brow and quickly read the highlighted text.

Silver '91 Ford Escort for sale. Automatic, two door (only driver's side door is fully functional). Runs good most of the time. Asking $800.

Jane's brow creased further and looked up at Rumple. "This is the worst ad I've ever read. 'Runs good MOST of the time?' What does that even mean?"

"I agree, but we need a car and that's the only one I could find that will leave us with money for enough gas to actually get to Storybrooke," Rumple sighed. He leaned heavily on his cane.

"What good is gas going to do if the car doesn't work?" Jane said, raising her eyebrows. Rumple only continued to stare blankly at her until she sighed and lowered her brows and stopped staring so intensely at him. "Okay. This is our only option, I get it. But I don't have to like it." She blew out her cheeks in defeat, throwing the newspaper back to the couch.

"Good, then we're in agreement." Rumple straightened and smirked down at his daughter "Get your coat dearie, we have a car to buy."