Hey, what's this, an update? Yup I'm finishing out this fic - for real! Give me a shout out if you're still reading!

Chapter 24 - Necessary

Rumpelstiltskin groaned a bit as he awoke, rubbing his hands across his face to erase the sleep still lingering in his eyes. He really didn't need the two pain pills that Belle insisted he take the night prior, but he was grateful for the rest it gave him. Today was going to be a long day. He sat up on the edge of the bed, reached for his cane, and made his way out to the kitchen, being led by the aroma of Belle's cooking.

"It smells delicious," he said as he entered the room.

"What are you doing out of bed? I'll bring your breakfast to you, go back to bed and lie down," Belle told him adamantly.

"I'm fine, sweetheart. Feeling much better this morning."

"Well, I want to keep you that way. Go on – back to bed." Not wanting to argue or rouse any suspicions with her, Rumpelstiltskin quietly did as she asked. He sat in bed pondering his options as to how to handle the Regina situation until Belle entered the room carrying a tray for him. "Here you are – I made all of your favorites."

"Thank you," he replied. Belle sat down on the bed next to him as he began to eat.

"I'm going to stay home with you today, alright?" Rumpelstiltskin put down his for and looked up at her.

"You will do no such thing. Until this curse is lifted I need you to be Isabelle, and Isabelle you will be. Isabelle French would be far more concerned with her shop and her money than her convalescing boyfriend. You have spent far more time than you should have looking after me, and we do NOT need to have people talking any more than they already have been. My recovery is progressing well and it's time for you to go back to playing out your role in all of this as it has been written. It's bad enough that Regina knows that our curses are no longer in effect, we can't afford giving her another reason to be upset."

"Do you really think I give a damn about Regina?" Belle asked.

"I give a damn about my SON, Belle. And unfortunately, Regina could cause a setback in my search for him. The curse is to be broken the way it is set up to be broken, or all of this will have been for nothing."

"Rumple, if August is your son then -"

"We don't know that he is, Belle. Until I am certain – I am not risking anything. I'd appreciate it if you would simply do as I ask."

"Well, you don't have to be so cold about it," Belle whined, a sad expression coming over her face.

"Apparently, that's the only way to get through to you nowadays."

"Alright Rumple – I'll go. I'll go and be Isabelle if that's what you want." Belle stood up and stomped toward the doorway.

"It's not what I want; it's what's necessary. There's a difference. It might be wise for you to understand that."

"Isabelle understands that quite well. Maybe you should talk to her instead of me." Belle turned her back to him and marched out of the room. Rumpelstiltskin sighed in defeat. He knew he should have been honest with her, he was always honest with Belle. Coward. That's what he was. Nothing but a coward.

Sidney Glass was nothing but one of Regina's puppets; everyone in town knew that. And like any good puppet, they did the bidding of their manipulator with grace and without argument. And if there was one thing that Rumpelstiltskin was good at, it was manipulation.

Seated at his desk in the office of the Storybrooke Mirror, Sidney looked up as the door opened. "Mr. Gold? I – I paid my rent to Miss French two weeks ago, she cashed my check, I can show you the receipt," Sidney stammered nervously.

"I'm not here for your rent, Mr. Glass – I'm here to discuss some things of a – personal nature."

"Did I print something in the paper that Miss French didn't like? I was really fair to her in the story about what happened to you, it wasn't her fault at all, I said that!" Rumpelstiltskin had to hold back a chuckle, amused at how so many people in town were cowed by Belle in her cursed persona.

"This has nothing to do with Miss French. In fact – she has no idea I'm here. I'd prefer to keep it that way."

"I'm not doing anything behind Miss French's back. You know how she is."

"Yes, I know how she is better than anyone, I'd venture to say. As I said, this has absolutely nothing to do with Miss French – it has to do with your boss."

"I – I don't have a boss, this is MY paper," Sidney insisted. Rumpelstiltskin chuckled out loud this time.

"Of course it is. Every story approved by our dear Mayor Mills, correct?" Rumpelstiltskin sat down in a chair in front of Sidney's desk. "Mr. Glass – I know how you feel about Mayor Mills."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please. Do you think I don't know the look of a man desperately in love with a powerful woman? Who do you think you're talking to?" Sidney was quiet for a moment. "Now – Mayor Mills has confided in me that she has a private quarrel with one Mary Margaret Blanchard who, as I'm sure you're well aware, is engaging in a not-so-secret affair with that man who was in the coma for who knows how long, David Nolan. Now – if something tragic were to happen to – let's say, Mr. Nolan's wife – one wouldn't have to look far to place blame, would they?"

"I'm not a murderer," Sidney said.

"Did I say anything about murder? Tragedy comes in many forms. You're a newsman, you know this. I can assure you – if you help me with this, I'll put in a good word for you with Mayor Mills. Think about it. You knew what I was before I was able to attract the attention of Isabelle French. If I can do that – I can certainly help you win over Mayor Mills, don't you agree?" Sidney thought about it for a moment.

"What do I have to do?" he asked.

Gullible fools, the whole cursed lot of them, Rumpelstiltskin thought to himself as he entered he and Belle's house. Then again, the genie was a gullible fool even back in their land; it didn't surprise him that he was eager to do anything to win over his "queen" – even this. He would get the credit, he would get what he wanted from Regina, and the best part was, Rumpelstiltskin didn't even have to get his hands dirty. He had missed the thrill of making deals, he admitted to himself.

Unfortunately, he also had to admit to himself that his little excursion wore him out completely. Belle was probably right; he was still recuperating and had no business going out. He wondered if he just should have told her. He had promised her no more secrets. He hadn't made a deal that she didn't about since their confession of love for one another. But things were different now. Belle was struggling daily with her cursed persona, and he had no idea how she would react to Regina's new cat and mouse game. No, this was for the best, he told himself. Exhausted, he laid down on the sofa to rest a bit, and was asleep within minutes.

Rumpelstiltskin awoke to the aroma of what smelled like chicken being grilled. He looked up at the clock in the living room, which read past six in the evening. "Belle?" he called out, wincing in pain as he sat up.

"Hey – you're up," Belle said as she entered the room.

"When did you get home?" he asked.

"A couple hours ago." Belle sat down next to him. "Why are you dressed in a suit?"

"I, um – I just wanted to get dressed today," he said, regretting the fact that he didn't change back into his pajamas before he laid down.

"What are you hiding from me, Rumple?"

"I'm not hiding anything from you."

"You're not a very good liar – at least not with me."

"What's for dinner? It smells delicious," he said, trying desperately to change the subject.

"No – you're not doing this Rumple. You don't get to be rude to me, lie to me, and then pretend like nothing is going on. You're up to something. You can either tell me what it is, or keep lying and I'll just figure it out on my own. Which is it?" Rumpelstiltskin sighed.

"I may have gone out for a bit today," he admitted.

"Out? Rumple, you're not even released to drive a car yet, are you mad!"

"Pardon me if I don't take much stock in the medical wisdom of a man who resurrects corpses as a hobby! I just went for a short drive, I'm going stir crazy in here, Belle."

"Well you could have come with me to the shop, I told you I was getting the back room all set up for you! But you had to go and be a jackass this morning, all so you could have some ridiculous 'alone time'. I know what you do when you go off on your own, Rumple, and it's never anything good. So tell me - what did you do?" Rumpelstiltskin sighed, defeated.

"Regina has your father's heart," he admitted.

"She – she what?"

"At least she says she does. I don't know, she has many hearts, but – you know what happened to Graham and Gaston. I didn't want that to happen to your father." Belle sat in silence for longer than Rumpelstiltskin was comfortable with.

"What did you do?" she finally asked once again, her tone cold and demanding.

"It's no matter – what's done is done, and your father is safe. Can we have dinner now? I'm quite hungry."

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"I'd rather not." Belle stood up and turned her back to him. "Belle, I'm sorry. Belle please, I -" Rumpelstiltskin stood up, and then let out a loud, painful groan as he grabbed his chest and sat back down.

"Rumple, what's wrong?" Belle asked, her demeanor changing as she moved to his side.

"It hurts," he whined as he laid back. Belle opened up his shirt to look and saw that one of his stitches had opened up and was bleeding.

"We need to get you to the hospital. Can you walk?"

"I think so," he said, not very confidently. Belle carefully helped him up and led him out the door.

"So he'll be alright then?" Belle asked Dr. Whale as he made a few notes on Rumpelstiltskin's chart.

"He should be fine. You don't need to push yourself so hard, Mr. Gold. I told you that rest is the best thing for you right now." Dr. Whale said.

"Oh, don't worry, he'll be resting – if I have to chain him to the bed." Belle said.

"Hey – not my place to judge what you're into. Give it a few more weeks though," Dr. Whale said, winking at Rumpelstiltskin. Belle rolled her eyes in disgust. "You're free to go – I do want to see you in a week for a re-check though."

"We'll be here," Belle said. "Thank you."

"Why are you being polite to him? Isabelle would never be polite to that lothario," Rumpelstiltskin said.

"Well, I'd rather be polite to him than to you right now. Do you know what kind of a setback you could have had?"

"It was one little stitch that popped!"

"It wouldn't have popped if you had stayed put like I asked you to!"

"You didn't ask, you ordered!"

"Oh, that's right – I'm bossy. I forgot."

"Can we go home, please? I'd very much like to go to bed."

"You don't trust me anymore, do you?" Belle asked.

"Belle, you know that's not true."

"You don't trust Isabelle, that's what it is. It's never going to be the same with us again, is it?"

"Hey – nothing has changed. I love you. My beautiful Belle." Belle sat down on the bed with him.

"I don't know who is who, anymore. Sometimes I – I'm not even sure which part of me is me and which part of me is her. It – it might be easier if she were a nicer person."

"Isabelle is a lovely person. You just haven't accepted her. You need to find some way to make peace with her, Belle, I've told you that." Belle looked up at him.

"Did you hurt anyone, Rumple?" Belle asked him.

"You know I have," he sighed.

"I mean today. What you did today – did you hurt anyone?"

"No," he replied. It wasn't technically a lie, he told himself.

"Alright. Let's go home, you'll get some rest, and then tomorrow we'll figure out a better way to handle Regina – together." Rumpelstiltskin nodded. He looked up at the television in his room as Belle was putting on her jacket. The volume was down, and the scrawl at the bottom of the screen read 'Kathryn Nolan missing – husband David Nolan in custody for questioning.'

It was necessary, he reminded himself as Belle took his hand and led him out of the room. He hoped she would understand that in time.