My first OUAT fic! Enjoy.

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Part 1

It's not the whispers of her ruined virtue which make Belle decide to return to the Dark Castle instead of completing the journey to her father's lands. Neither is it the knowledge that her childhood home isn't where she truly belongs any longer.

Although it certainly plays a large part in her decision, ultimately it's not the final memory of Rumplestiltskin either which persuades her to go back to him, his face betraying a truth his words denied.

More than anything, it's the indisputable fact that it wasn't only his happiness that was destroyed when he send her away. Whether Belle likes it or not, Rumplestiltskin wasn't the only one whose love was confirmed when their kiss prompted his transformation back to the man he once must have been.

So that's why the former caretaker makes her way back to the Dark Castle. Belle doesn't know what she will say to him when she returns and she especially has no idea what he will do once he sees her again after his cruel dismissal.

All she knows is that she can't leave him, or at least not the way she did three days ago. Too much things have gone left unsaid, too many feelings left unspoken. She herself isn't certain of many of them, her love for Rumplestiltskin as undefinable as it is unexpected, but they can't be ignored.

Belle hesitates only briefly when she walks through the castle's imposing gate, which curiously allows her unhindered access. She forbids herself to linger when she reaches the front door, the heavy wood moving outwards at the barest touch. She no longer questions herself when she heads for the main hall, determined to find the man who claimed that his power means more to him than their love.

It's quiet in the castle, more silent than any time in the months she spent there. Although far from a noisy place, there are always sounds of some sorts. A crackling fire, his light footsteps on the stone floor, a whistling kettle, the buzzing of his mysterious potions in their vials...

Not a single sound can be heard now beyond those caused by her own movements. It can't possibly mean anything good, but Belle doesn't allow herself to consider that.

It doesn't take long for her to find him. She expected him to be in his turret, working on his spells and potions, or in the library perhaps to discover yet more secrets in the invaluable books it holds. Instead, she finds him in the very room where she intuitively started looking for him, having spent most of her time with him there.

Belle stops dead in her tracks when she spots him. Throughout the past few days she imagined a variety of ways in which the beginning of their reunion might turn out, but this most certainly wasn't one of them.

The man who claimed not to want her, not to love her, is sitting uncomfortably on the floor of the large room, his shoulders heaving and his head lowered. His face is buried in the now crumpled dress she wore at the day she arrived at his castle.

Belle gasps at his undeniable display of desperate longing, her heart aching for the man who is so utterly lost that he couldn't be honest with her at the most important of moments.

She isn't going to let him get away with it this time.

Belle takes a careful step towards him, wanting to comfort him but afraid that she'll startle him. Rumplestiltskin is not a man to be approached unobserved without consequence and she dreads to think of what he might do if she shocks him now.

That's why she almost jumps when her foot lands on something that noisily breaks beneath her shoe. Her eyes fixed on him until she is certain that he hasn't heard her, it takes her a long moment to understand what has happened.

Only then actually looking around the room, she notices that she has stepped onto a piece of broken glass. She doesn't have to wonder long how it ended up on the floor in the middle of the hall.

Her mouth falls open when her gaze falls on the remains of the cabinet. Both the glass of the double doors and the treasures inside are smashed to pieces, far beyond recognition. There is no question who destroyed the cabinet, but she dare not speculate on Rumplestiltskin's reasons for doing so.

Assessing the room for further damage, she spots yet more shards on the floor. They once formed the tea set which she used for both of them many a day. She dreads to think what must have happened for them to deserve such a fate.

Yet, nothing is more puzzling, more confronting, than the single cup which remains on the table, fully intact but its chipped edge. It's almost like he has spared that one on purpose, as if he expects - hopes - that she will return at any moment to pour him another cup.

Belle continues her approach with a lump in her throat, her heart pounding in anxiety. Rumplestiltskin doesn't look up, too lost in whatever he is experiencing to notice her presence.

When she is right in front of him, he still doesn't see her. Belle regards him in silence, wondering what to do next. It's difficult to think at all when seeing him like this, basically nuzzling the fabric she once wore.

She wasn't sure of it before, but she can definitely tell now that he is crying. Still, he doesn't make the slightest sound, looking like he's trying to hide his sadness despite being presumably all alone in his castle. His shoulders shaking quietly, he looks like a man who learned to hide his fears and sorrows a very long time ago.

Sensing that Rumplestiltskin won't become aware of her for quite some time unless she makes her presence known to him, Belle kneels down in front of him. She wants him to feel as little threatened as possible before confronting him in this state.

Making sure not to touch him despite wanting nothing more at that moment than taking him in her arms, Belle nervously clears her throat.

"Rumplestiltskin," she says, quietly, her voice quivering.

He goes completely still as she addresses him, but remains sitting as he is, his head bowed as if he doesn't believe that he's actually hearing her voice.

"Rumplestiltskin," she tries again, a bit louder and more certain.

This time, he lowers the damp material of the dress and finally looks up at her.

The expression on his face is like a physical blow. There is so much pain there, such loneliness and love and utter despair that she doesn't know how he can bear it.

She can see him in that one second of bare, raw emotion, allowing her to understand him more than she did before. His indifference regarding her is as much an act as his gleeful, impish persona when he makes his deals. Beneath the grand gestures and child-like voice he is simply a man... an ordinary and very, very lonely man.

"Belle?"

His eyes are wide in disbelief, his voice so hoarse that her name is hardly audible, tears dropping from his lashes down his cheeks.

"It's me," she whispers, "I've come back."

She's stating the obvious, but he still looks like he can't believe it. It's as if he has imagined something like this happening for dozens of times, only to be confronted with the harsh reality of her absence every single time.

"You've come... home?"

Tears pool in her own eyes at the tremble in his voice and at the choice of his last word. She isn't entirely certain what he means by it, whether he wants the Dark Castle to be her home instead of her prison or whether he considers this his own home only when she is there, but at that moment it doesn't really matter.

She nods, not trusting her voice to function and not wanting there to be any more doubt between them.

He reaches for her, his hand lingering right in front of her, as if he doesn't quite dare touch her. He might be afraid that she'll disappear after all at the moment he touches her, as if she is nothing but another illusion, or perhaps he fears that his touch disgusts her.

Not wanting him to think anything of such sorts, she reaches for his hand, her fingers moving experimentally against his. For all the time they spent together, they have barely shared any sort of physical contact to express their love.

Except for a daring hand on his thigh right before the briefest and chastest of kisses, after that one time she accidentally fell into his arms, the distance between them has grown along with their fondness for one another, their fingers not even brushing when he handed her the rose.

But that's coming to an end when he brings his other hand to hers, cradling it with a carefulness and tenderness she didn't expect from him, not even after getting to know him like she did in the past few months.

"You're real," he breathes, looking as if a very heavy weight has been taken off his shoulders.

She opens her mouth to confirm that she is truly here, impossibly tight throat or not, but she doesn't get the chance.

He lurches for her, hauling her against his chest and knocking both of them over in his eagerness. She is on her back on the floor a second later, with Rumplestiltskin on top of her, knocking the air out of her lungs. His desperate embrace borders on painful, but Belle only welcomes his nearness.

"I've missed you," he whispers urgently in her ear, "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too," she says, only realizing when she is in his accepting arms just how much this is true. She didn't want to be separated from him, didn't want to live without his unexpected tenderness and respect, his quips and gentle kisses, but only now that she is in his arms she fully understands just how much her longing for him goes beyond that.

"I'm so sorry, Belle. So sorry. I shouldn't have sent you away. I shouldn't have been cruel to you, I shouldn't have..."

The usually so very eloquent man stumbles over his own words in his haste to apologize, frantic in his attempt to reassure her. But she doesn't need words to be convinced of his regret. What she wants right now doesn't require words altogether.

"Let's talk about that later, all right?" she asks, hushing him. "Let's just stay like this for a while."

Much as she knows that they have to talk about these things, right now she would simply like to enjoy this whole new kind of being together, allowing both of them to get somewhat used to being reunited for at least the time being.

"I'd like that. Very much."

He makes a noise of relief as he buries his face against her throat, only slightly loosening his tight grip on her. Belle sighs when the remains of his tears end up on her skin and he releases a long, tormented breath in response. No matter how impossible something like this was until only a few moments ago, nothing has felt more natural, more right, than being in his arms like this.

She has never been in such a situation before, especially not with Rumplestiltskin himself, and she isn't sure what to do. But as they lie together quietly, her hands resting lightly on his back, she supposes that there is no need to do anything, that just being together like this is enough.

Too soon, he withdraws, his expression one of guilt. Leaning on both his arms, he looks down at her, his gaze betraying both doubt and longing.

"You aren't comfortable," Rumplestiltskin says, more a statement than a question.

"The floor is a bit hard, I suppose," she truthfully says, not sure whether she should add that she doesn't care about that now that he is in his arms, with his thighs on either side of hers.

"I wasn't talking about that," he replies, scrambling to his feet and offering her a hand to do the same.

"Oh," she says, only then realizing that he was referring to their previous physical nearness. "In that case, I was comfortable."

"You don't have to say that," he says, dropping her hand as soon as she's standing on her feet again. "I know that I... am what I am."

She supposes that it's an improvement that he doesn't use the word 'monster' to describe himself, but this is only a slight improvement. There is so much hatred and disgust for himself; it appears to go far beyond his highly unusual looks and often harsh personality.

"I know what you are... and I would like to truly know who you are," she says, hoping to persuade him of at least this for now. "I wouldn't be here if I wouldn't. I wouldn't have come back if I wouldn't want this."

He watches her intently, but this time he looks at her instead of any scheme she might be plotting.

"You truly are a remarkable creature."

"You'd better get used to it," she replies, her words stern and promising despite the smile on her lips. "If you would have me, I mean."

She swallows with difficulty as it dawns on her what she just said, what her words imply.

"Is there any doubt?"

He shakes his head, as if he can't believe that she questions his wish for her to stay with him.

"You were the one to send me away."

She doesn't really wish to remind him of it while he is like this, vulnerable and open, but it needs to be said sooner or later. Besides, she might never get the opportunity again to see him like this.

"I thought it was the only way," he whispers, avoiding her gaze and flinching slightly at her words. "That it would be best, both for you and for me."

"And now?" she asks, knowing him well enough by now to be able to tell that he has changed his mind.

"Now I know that it would be best for me if you were to stay."

"And what about me?"

He shakes his head, as if not wanting to consider the question, not again. But Belle has to know, has to understand.

"Why didn't you come after me?" she prompts as insistently yet gently as she can. "Why didn't you ask me to come back here?"

There is no denying that she always hoped that he would do so, even before she made the decision to go back herself.

"Don't you think I haven't considered it? I've thought of nothing but doing just that. I truly believed that this would be better for both of us. I don't want to live without you, but I couldn't imagine you truly wanting to be here."

"But why not?

"How can you possibly be happy here, with me?"

He doesn't continue, but the look in his eyes tells her that he is begging her to tell him otherwise, to persuade him that she genuinely wants to stay.

"Because I enjoy being here. If I would have been home, 'free' as you might call it, I would have had to spent the rest of my life with Gaston. I wouldn't have been able to read or talk. He wouldn't allow me to jest with him, whereas you appear to enjoy it. Gaston wouldn't have listened to me and would have put me away in his castle, just as far away from my father as here, only without books or anyone to really talk to. He would have spent each night in my bed, whether I'd like it or not, and he would have taken our children to be raised by servants the way he saw fit. He... he wouldn't have loved me."

As often as she thought along the exact same lines, she is convinced of the full truth of her words only now that she says them out loud for the first time and the realization dawns in her True Love's eyes.

"I don't want to leave, Rumplestiltskin. I... I don't want to be without you."

His throat visibly works as she talks, his hands trembling at his side.

"I might never understand how you can want this, how you can want to be with me, but..."

It's far from a declaration of love, provides insight into only a small part of his feelings, but for now it's more than enough for her. Belle releases a breath she didn't know she was holding, a broad smile finding its way to her lips. He believes, and that's all what matters right now.

To be continued soon.