He'd returned. Of course he'd returned, Storybrooke was his home, and he couldn't leave it forever. It was where he lost his son, father, wife, and at a certain point even his grandson. He had too many memories in that small town to just leave it behind.

Of course he'd had no choice but to leave.

His house had been in ruins when he returned. It had taken him several weeks to get the mice that had taken residence in the kitchen cupboards to leave again and he could still smell the stench of a long-forgotten home. Most days he didn't bother to put the heating on. Nothing could really make it feel like a home anymore.

He dealed, still. Collected rent every Saturday at different properties. Ran his shop. He had returned to his menacing ways, with one big exception. He didn't touch magic anymore. He'd shut it out as soon as he was pushed over the town line. He was certain that, would he want to, it would open up to him in the blink of an eye, but how could he still want it? No, he needed the reminder of what he'd lost in every step he set.

At first, the children made fun of him. Look, they would say, look, there goes the imp. Once he might have turned them into rats, but now he just hobbled along. The pain shooting through his ankle didn't matter, it served him right, really. Reminded him of how much of a coward he used to be and how that didn't change. But the parents started to hush the children. Averted their eyes when he came by. Nobody spoke to him anymore, but it was not out of fear. He could see their pity in the way they walked.

Snow had come by once to see what he wanted in the town. When she was absolutely satisfied he would not attempt to ruin their lives again, she had left. She didn't come back. Without magic, he had become as close to useless to the heroes as he could come.

He tried to maintain an air of who he used to be, really, he did. But he found he just couldn't care less about anything. When he looked in the mirror he only saw a shell: he wasn't the Dark One anymore, he wasn't even a man. It didn't matter that time passed, it didn't matter that someone was late on the rent, bloody hell, what did he care if a kid stole a trinket from the shop.

Every night, he'd walk to the bedroom. Light would shine into the room as he opened it, falling on the pillows and illuminating the walls. He tried to step over the threshold every single night, and failed just as many times. It seemed her perfume still clung to the sheets and her spirit darted around the room, taunting him. He cried every night as he closed the door, limped down the stairs and sat on the sofa. He didn't expect her to come back. He hoped she'd finally leave someday.

Maybe he liked the pain. Maybe that was why he still wore his wedding band around his finger. He could barely think of another reason. Because even if she'd want him back, he couldn't let her. Everything she had said was true. He was a monster, and she didn't deserve to be stuck with one. He tried to forget, to move on, for her.

He knew it was only a matter of time before he'd see her. Maybe she'd lock up the library one day as he'd lock up his shop, and he'd smell her perfume as the wind carried it across the street. Maybe she'd walk in as he was having a meal at Granny's, and she'd turn and leave again. Maybe she'd stop her car beside his at the traffic lights, and stare ahead until she was permitted through.

In the end, she was carrying a bag of potatoes to the grocery store check-out. He looked at her from behind the deodorant, clutching at his cane to keep himself upright. She'd seen him. Their eyes locked and somehow, he couldn't bring himself to look away. He had promised himself he wouldn't allow her to come close to him again, for her own sake. But he'd forgotten how blue her eyes were.

She didn't look good. Her hair was a mess, there were dark circles under her eyes and she was too skinny. Her features looked empty without her signature smile and she just... stared. Neither of them moved. Not closer, not further, because this seemed to be the only thing they could manage right now. Finally, clutching the potatoes to her stomach, she walked gingerly toward him. He was still frozen.

''Hey.'' She whispered.

He couldn't even stutter out a reply. He just looked at her, silently begging her to walk away now, while he could still contain himself. Please, Belle, please leave. But she didn't.

''I'm sorry.'' Her voice cracked under his gaze. ''I never meant to hurt you.''

His silence didn't break.

A tear trickled down her cheek. ''Please. Say something.''

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. ''Leave. Please.''

She choked on a sob, dropping the bag. Her hands clamped protectively around her swollen belly as she turned around. But he didn't see. He couldn't.