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She woke to the sensation of his fingertips gliding over the bare skin of her back. Though it was dark in their room, she still pressed her eyes tightly shut. She pushed back against him, relishing the feel of his bare skin against hers for just a moment longer. This was inevitable, but she had been hoping to delay it. Forever.
Her attempt at distracting both herself and him was fruitless. The bed shifted as he rose and walked to the window, pulling the curtains open. Sunlight streamed into the room and under any other circumstance, she would have been grateful for it.
He returned to the bed, silent. Slowly, he pulled the sheet down, exposing her shoulder, her back, the curve of her hip. He hissed through his teeth. “When?”
Slowly, she rolled over onto her back and looked at him. His expression was shuttered, cold, his eyes disturbingly reptilian.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said quietly.
She could see his jaw clench as he ground his teeth together. “It matters, Belle,” he said seriously. “It matters to me.”
She pushed herself up on one elbow, staring into his eyes. “But it’s not your flesh, it’s mine,” she said firmly. “And it’s my business.”
He pursed his lips into a mirthless smile and leaned in toward her. Reaching out, he ran a fingertip over the exposed flesh of her shoulder, caressing the shiny, raised scar - the veritable tip of the iceberg. “You asked for my protection, sweetheart,” he said softly. “And rest assured I will protect you. I will find out who hurt you and when.”
She pressed her eyes shut. What had she told him? That he was a man who made wrong choices. Truer words had never been spoken. Slowly, she pushed herself into a sitting position, forcing him to back up. She reached for his hand, holding it gently in her own, staring down at their intertwined fingers.
“Life is a series of choices,” she said quietly. She looked up, meeting his gaze. “You can choose to be with me. You can choose to be happy - to have a life.” She sighed deeply. “Or you can choose vengeance.”
She looked into his eyes, but he was closed to her, hiding whatever he was thinking behind a blank facade. But she knew him well enough to guess what horrid machinations were forming in his mind.
Sighing, she released his hand and rolled off the bed, quietly padding out of the room.
***
She stood still, relishing the heat of the water pouring over her body. If there was anything she truly loved about this odd world, it was this - a hot shower. It was bliss.
She savored the feel of the pounding droplets working the kinks out of her protesting muscles. Perhaps the sofa hadn’t been the best idea she’d ever had, but if life had taught her anything, it was that she had to seize the opportunity when it presented itself. And seize it she had.
Last night had been glorious. He had been tender and cajoling and so damn sexy. He had let her love him and loved her in return. They had been together - truly together - in mind and heart and body.
Pragmatism, however, had always been one of her defining characteristics. She was a dreamer, yes, and prone to moments of idealism. But mostly, she was practical to the core. And as much as she had delighted in the events of last night, she knew it was only a matter of time before he reverted.
She could feel him there, the weight of his presence. He stood on the other side of the glass shower enclosure and she knew exactly what he was doing. He was staring at the extensive network of scars that covered her shoulders and back, trailing down to her buttocks and even the tops of her thighs. Some of the scars were a mere hair’s breadth, others were truly gruesome specimens, cutting through not only skin, but muscle and sinew as well. If she were any other woman and he any other man, she supposed she might be wondering if he was judging her, if he was repulsed by what he saw. But alas, she was Belle and he was Rumpelstiltskin and she knew that the scars themselves had little impact on him. It was what the scars meant, that someone had hurt her. Perhaps there was a modicum of hope to be found in his reaction. However stunted he was emotionally, he did possess enough compassion to feel for her, to be wounded by the pain she suffered. But the fact that these scars gave him a reason to give into his rage easily outweighed any compassion he might have felt.
***
Belle stood on the sidewalk, staring at the door and specifically at the Help Wanted sign. She had seen the library the night she stormed out of his shop and walked for hours. Of all the potential places to try and find a job, this seemed like the only one she had a chance of getting.
She had no work history, no job skills, no state issued identification.
She was pretty sure that on paper, she was what they referred to as ‘unemployable’.
However, considering that this town was populated entirely by people transported from a magical land and dumped in this world, she supposed she shouldn’t let that stop her.
***
“Bless you,” she said reflexively, smiling meekly at the pharmacist, Mr. Clark. At least that’s what the sign said his name was. She had no idea who he had been in his previous life. Not that it really mattered, at least to her. They were all stuck here. Forever. And she had always believed that life was what you made of it.
But she did feel pretty far behind the curve. Unlike Rumpelstiltskin, who from his purview as the Dark One, knew pretty much every soul that had ever inhabited their magical land, she knew virtually no one. Her village had been small and remote. Her big adventure had been living in the Dark Castle with only him to keep her company. She knew him. And, unfortunately, she knew Regina. But aside from that, every face she saw was that of a stranger.
And while some people in Storybrooke obviously hadn’t known each other in their previous lives, they’d had twenty-eight years to build relationships with one another in this human world. Belle had spent three decades locked in a padded room with extremely limited human contact. She knew almost nothing about this world and how it worked. It was like she just hadn’t existed for the last twenty-eight years.
She took a deep breath and turned her attention back to the shelf she was studying. She could feel her cheeks flame. As much as she appreciated the practicality of this world, she had to admit to herself that this was mortifying.
How on earth could there be this many options for birth control? She had no idea if nonoxynol-9 was a good thing or a bad thing. And what was vaginal contraceptive film?
She glanced back at Mr. Clark who was being a dear and pretending not to notice she’d been standing here for the last twenty minutes. She made an executive decision. She knew too little about this. And Rumpelstiltskin undoubtedly knew far too much. This was going to be his problem to solve.
Turning, she headed for the door. She was just rounding the greeting card display when she bumped into someone. The contact spun her and she twisted around. “I’m so sorry,” she said, immediately reaching for his arm.
She looked into his eyes and stopped. Slowly, she withdrew her hand from his arm. “I know you,” she said softly.
He stared down at her with those stunning blue eyes rimmed by lashes so thick they should have made him seem feminine, but somehow didn’t. His hair was artfully mussed and he looked absolutely miserable.
“I know you,” she repeated.
He nodded, taking a half step back and bowing to her. “You do,” he confirmed. “My name is Jefferson.”
She watched him carefully. “You’re the one who freed me, Jefferson. Who told me to find Mr. Gold. Who told me to tell him that Regina locked me up.”
“Guilty as charged,” he said with a hard smile.
Belle frowned. Here was a creature broken in ways very similar to her love. The self-loathing and misery radiating off Jefferson was nearly palpable. She crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at him. “How did you know who … what I was to Mr. Gold?”
He laughed mirthlessly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t,” he said matter-of-factly. “I don’t know who you are. And I don’t particularly care either.”
Belle kept her expression blank. She knew better than to show weakness to a wounded creature like this. They had a tendency to lash out unexpectedly.
“What I know,” he continued, “is that Regina kept you as the ace in her pocket. You were one of her most closely guarded secrets. And she said that the reason she kept you was that you were the ultimate leverage against the imp.”
Her brow furrowed and she shook her head. “And you just assumed he would protect me?”
“No,” Jefferson replied flatly. “I assumed he would kill Regina for imprisoning you.” He stepped closer, invading Belle’s personal space and forcing her to crane her head back to look at him. “I am not a powerful man, but I do understand what motivates people. Regina kept you because the Dark One loved you.” He eyed her critically. “Or maybe not, considering Regina is still annoyingly alive.”
Belle stared back at Jefferson. She had no idea why she was being so candid with him. She knew nothing about him - aside from the fact that he was the one who had freed her from her prison and reunited her with her love. On second thought, she probably knew him better than anyone in this land save Rumpelstiltskin. “I made him promise not to kill her.”
Jefferson made a sound of disgust and shook his head. “If only I’d done it a week earlier, before Emma broke that damn curse and gave everyone their memories back.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” she replied quietly.
He looked down at her again, more curious than critical this time. “I have to admit,” he said, “when I tried to imagine the woman who was Rumpelstiltskin’s true love, I didn’t imagine you.”
She snorted, her mouth quirking into a grin. “What did you imagine?”
He shook his head. “I have no idea,” he admitted. Then he leaned in closer, conspiratorially. “You must be a lot freakier than you look though. An imp. That's pretty far out there.”
She frowned at him. “Good evening, Jefferson,” she said firmly.
He stepped back, bowing again. “Good evening, milady.”
***
He was trying so hard to look busy when she walked through the door. “Hey,” he said softly, walking from behind the counter to meet her in the middle of the shop.
“Hello,” she replied evenly.
He took a deep breath and fidgeted. “So … where’ve you been?’
“Out,” she replied.
He nodded. “Out?”
“Yes,” she said brightly. “Out.”
“What did you do?” he asked.
“I got a job,” she replied with a smile. “I spent most of the day there and I’m supposed to be back at 9am tomorrow morning.”
He stared at her, his jaw falling open. “A job?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling. “And after work, I went to the pharmacy and shopped for contraception.”
He stared at her for a moment, his lips worked frantically, but no sound came out. Finally, he screwed his eyes shut, looking truly pained. “You were at the pharmacy buying birth control?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t actually buy any,” she admitted. “I was confused. And embarrassed. So you’re going to have to stop by there tonight. Unless you want to sleep on the sofa.”
Reflexively, he placed one hand against the small of his back, no doubt mortified at the idea of having to spend any more time on that couch. “I .. uh,” he stammered. “Last night you said you didn’t care.”
“I didn’t care last night,” she admitted with a grin. "Heat of the moment and all." Her expression sobered. “But right now I care quite a bit. And you’re going to go buy some contraception.”
He smiled at her with a look that was half pain and half wonder. He chuckled. “As you wish, Belle.”
[the end - for now]