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Belle hadn't even closed the door fully before her husband stated, “I understand if you don't want to stay.”
Was this two months before, she'd have looked at him in confusion, frowning at the suggestion that she could ever leave his side. Now, she knew better. No matter that the curse had been broken, and that she could immediately see the difference in the man he used to be and the man who was now standing in front of her – a man who was remembering every past sin under a new light, his judgment no longer clouded by darkness, and who was finally tasting regret to the full. Choosing to isolate herself with him still took every last shred of courage she had.
“I know,” she answered, locking the door behind her. A formality more than anything. Even if Rumpelstiltskin wanted to leave, he wouldn't make it beyond their front yard. Nor would Belle, for that matter, unless Regina came to fetch her. She could only hope her magic was strong enough to keep out the angry hoards that would be at their doors if Storybrooke ever found out his magic was gone.
“Curse or no curse,” he proceeded, “I know that I've made very poor decisions since our marriage-”
Belle laughed, but it was a bitter, joyless sound. “Poor decisions.”
He stopped. Nodded. “I suppose that's a euphemism. To say the least.”
Belle looked at him, her back still pressed against the door, waiting for him to go on.
“My point is that I do not expect to earn your forgiveness just because my curse has been broken. And no matter what you choose, you will always have my gratitude. And, for what matters, my love.”
“It matters,” she uttered, quietly.
He almost smiled at her. “I don't expect you to stay with me. Especially not in these conditions. They will leave me here to rot if it's up to them, curse or no curse. You can still have a life out there. You have the library, and someone will have to manage the shop, because those people have no idea of what-”
“I'm not leaving you.”
He stared at her. No matter how many times she had said it in the past, it seemed to catch him off guard every time.
“In this case,” he continued, his voice even, as if the whole conversation was logical, “maybe you'd like to have your own bedroom-”
“Why is it,” she cut in, “that every time we hit a rough patch, your solution is to put a distance between us?”
Again, Rumpelstiltskin stared at her, not knowing what to say.
“No, I don't want my own bedroom,” Belle told him. “And I don't want to build my life without you. I am your wife, I want to make our marriage work. I thought you'd want the same.”
“I do,” he whispered back. He didn't sound nearly as assured as Belle would have liked him to.
“I need to know that you commit to us, to making this right,” she told him. “This is a last chance that I can only grant you if you can promise me this.”
There was always this look on his face, this feeling of unworthiness that Belle felt like she was constantly fighting and she was so tired. This wasn't a curse that she could break. It was self-preservation that new better than to expect mercy or love. Belle would rather face his darkness twenty times over than to stand in the foyer, staring into his eyes and seeing only a desperate need to run and save himself, because her love couldn't be real, because he wasn't good enough for her.
But ultimately, he nodded at her.
“I do,” he said. “This time, things are going to be different.”
Belle got up from her chair immediately after Rumpelstiltskin was gone, but David was faster than her and said, “No, let me.”
David found him right outside their door, pacing two steps to the right, two steps to the left, taking really deep breaths and eying the stairs as if wondering whether his legs were strong enough to rush down the steps.
David said, “Hey, you okay over there?”
“My wife,” he breathed, not looking at David and probably not even addressing him. “She's my wife.”
“I know,” David said. “I'm still a little hurt you didn't invite us to the wedding.”
“She's my wife,” he repeated, still very disturbed by those words. “She's my wife. My son is dead, my land is gone, I'm the Dark One, and she's my wife.”
He dropped the cane on the floor and placed his hands on his knees, heaving as every bit of information seemed to finally sink in.
“I can see why you're overwhelmed,” David said, debating if the other man would find a hand on the shoulder reassuring, or the final step towards a full on panic attack. He decided on the latter, and suggested, “Do you want to sit down? We don't have to go back inside right now.”
Rumpelstiltskin breathed in and breathed out. Once. Twice. Four times. Seven times. After the twelfth time, it became clear his heart would not go back to a regular rhythm and his head would remain dizzy for the foreseeable future.
David felt helpless. Not that talking to the Dark One had ever been easy; come to think of it, giving him dating advice alone had been a struggle. But talking to this man managed to be even harder. Not only did he not know what to say, he also had no idea of what to expect. The Dark One might have tried to kill him if David said the wrong thing, but this new Rumpelstiltskin looked like he could break in half if David so much as gave him a stern look. He needed to proceed with caution.
“Do you...” he tried, searching his mind for a comforting suggestion. “Do you want to go back to the shop? It's getting late anyway.”
“I cannot do this.”
Rumpelstiltskin's voice had been so soft David barely heard him.
“I'm sorry?”
“I cannot do this, Your Majesty,” he repeated, eyes on the floor, raggedy breaths making each word a struggle. “This-this lying, this marriage, this life. This isn't me.”
“No one is asking you to do anything you won't feel comfortable with,” David said, though that was a lie and he was well aware of it. They had been asking him to do things he was uncomfortable with from the moment he had ordered Rumpelstiltskin to his feet. “And you don't have to make a decision right now.”
R umpelstiltskin did not say a word. He just breathed in and breathed out. David was glad to hear the sound growing softer with each breath he drew.
He was about to suggest he drank a glass of cold water when the door opened again and Belle stepped out.
“Is everything alright?” she asked, addressing her husband.
Rumpelstiltskin moved as if ready to escape, but found out that his escaping options were: a) going through a brick wall, or b) going down the stairs with a bad leg. So he stayed put and stared intently at the floor. Maybe the earth would swallow him whole if he just wished it hard enough.
“Yes, he's fine,” David said, thinking that Belle might step back in and give Rumple a moment to calm down. “Sorry, it was a bit too much, he needed to take a break.”
“Why don't you go back inside, David?” she asked. “Your daughter seems ready to murder Regina, and I was about to let her.”
“Uhn...” David eyed Rumpelstiltskin again, then Belle. “And are you...?”
“Yes, you go.”
“Okay. Uhn. We'll talk later, Rumple.”
Even though he was breathless, Rumpelstiltskin managed to bow and say, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
When the door closed, Belle picked up his cane and offered it to him. “Your cane.” He didn't look her in the, but took it from her hands and offered her wedding ring in exchange. She took it, said, “Thank you, Rumpelstiltskin,” and slipped it around her finger.
He kept on staring at the floor, but he didn't seem on the verge of panic anymore.
“Listen, I think you had enough for tonight,” she said. “In fact, I think you had enough for a couple of days. Why don't I take you home so you can have a proper rest?”
He glanced up, but was staring at the floor again when he spoke. “Back to the shop?”
She nodded. “You could. But we actually have another house.”
He frowned. “The shop is a very decent place.”
“It is. But our house is equally nice. And it's better to sleep in.”
As Belle drove, Rumpelstiltskin could see the small buildings give way to bigger ones. These had yards and more of those strange carriages waiting in front of them. If the King hadn't ordered (well, politely ordered) him inside his own carriage, Rumpelstiltskin wouldn't have dared to ride them. But inside was comfortable and warm and the journey was not only much faster, but also rather comfortable.
When Belle stopped the carriage, she murmured, apologetically, “I'm still not good at parking. I'm going to ruin the grass.”
He had no idea what she was talking about or why she was apologizing, but he assumed it had to do with the carriage. When they got out, she gave herself a second to observe that the left wheels had missed the gravel and were now resting on the grass. She tutted at herself, but Rumpelstiltskin couldn't see what the issue was. Maybe it was a bad thing in this land to step on grass? Just to be safe, he made sure not to stray from the gravel path leading up to the house.
The building was pink and one of the biggest on the street. He wondered how many apartments were there and how many people lived in them. When David first showed him the building he lived in, Rumple had said, in a faint voice, “You have a... big house.”
David had laughed. “It's actually an apartment building. Is like, uhn, a house on top of another house. That's how people live in this land. You could fit a whole village in one building if you wanted to.”
What a curious concept.
Belle turned on the lights and Rumple blinked at the bright room. In a way, it resembled the shop because it was filled with cabinets and random trinkets that seemed to take over most of the space.
“It is a nice building,” he said, quietly, looking at the floor.
She smiled. “It's actually a house.”
“Ah.” He was never going to get this right. “How many people live here?”
“Just you and me.”
“But...” he looked around. “It's... big.”
“We have a lot of things.”
“Yes. Indeed.”
“I can show you around tomorrow, if you'd like. But right now I really need to sleep.”
The hand holding on to the cane tightened its grasp. He could only hope that things hadn't changed all that much and that noble men and women still had separate bedrooms, or at least separate beds. The thought of sleeping so close to another woman was uncomfortable, to put it mildly. He hadn't even courted a woman since he lost Milah.
Rumpelstiltskin only relaxed when Belle guided him up the stairs and announced, “This is where you'll sleep.”
The bedroom she showed him was much larger than the one at the shop, with enough space for a double bed, nightstands and a wardrobe.
“I...” he started, but then he shut up.
Belle frowned. “What is it?”
He shook his head.
“If you don't like it, we can make arrangements.”
“I like it, but I don't... need... all of this, my lady,” he struggled out.
“It was no trouble, Rumpelstiltskin, really,” she reassured him. “I know it's hard to get your head around it, but this is your house. And if you don't like it, I can ask David to bring the cot until you're more used to it.”
T he King? She was going to ask the King to bring something to him ? Could she even do that?
“No, I-I will be fine.”
“Well, if you change your mind, or if you need anything, I'm sleeping down the hall in our bedroom.”
The mention of “our bedroom” made him look up briefly. Belle must have seen it and understood, because she said, “I assumed you'd like your own space.”
Gathering up courage, he looked up and said, “I'm sorry I don't remember you, Lady Belle.”
“It's not your fault. And you can call me Belle.”
Rumpelstiltskin swallowed nothing, making his apple rise and fall slowly.
Belle had the feeling he wanted to say something else.
“What is it?”
He paused. “I just feel so terribl y sorry for you.”
For the first time, he caught her off guard.
“I know what is like to lose your spouse. To not be able to save them.”
Belle nodded, a million complications going through her mind at once. Talking to Killian, keeping him away. Finding a way to reintroduce him into their lives without giving Rumple a heart attack. Explaining the truth about Milah's death to her husband. Watching him mourn her...
The question escaped her lips before she could stop it, “Do you still love her?”
He swallowed that lump in his throat again.
“You can be honest with me. I won't be mad.”
“You might be sad.”
She smiled faintly.
“Yes. I do,” he confessed.
“And I still love my husband. Even though he isn't here anymore.”
It was his turn to almost smile. “I will be a good husband. Belle.”
The sound of her name on her lips was enough to make her eyes water.
“I know you will, Rumple,” she said. “You've always been.”