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“So,” Regina asked, as Rumpelstiltskin started pulling books off of the shelves. “What is he like?”
“I'm sorry?” he asked, momentarily confused by the question.
“By 'he' I mean you. Lets call him... The Previous You. How does that sound?”
She smiled at him, but there was no warmth or sympathy. Yet, her cruelty felt familiar and almost comforting to him. While everyone around him was minding their words and trying to keep positive, he could always count on Regina to be as blunt as ever. He wasn't sure if it was because she reveled in his misery, or because she didn't really believe he was fading away, but either way he felt very close to thankful. Any more of that hopeful attitude, he might very well go crazy.
“Horrible,” he answered. “You will detest him.”
“How so?” she pressed.
Rumple just answered, “You'll see,” and started sorting out the books. Hopeless or not, he wasn't ready to give up just yet.
Regina asked, “So what are we looking for, exactly? Memory potions?”
Rumple shook his head. “No, those won't work. I need something to retain memory. An artifact, or maybe a memory spell.”
“A dreamcatcher?” she suggested.
He shook his head again. “Something stronger. I'm not simply forgetting who I am. My memories are turning to dust. They are evaporating. I need something strong enough to keep them safe, and a dreamcatcher won't do.”
“Feels like something your wife should be doing.”
“I don't want my wife to do it because I already know this is pointless,” he explained, making Regina look up. “I've already read everything, cover to cover. I know such a thing doesn't exist. But I'm hoping I overlooked something and a fresh pair of eyes might be helpful. Unless you have something better to do.”
Regina shrugged, as if their task meant nothing to her. As far as Rumpelstiltskin knew, it probably did. “It's not every day that the Dark One needs your help.”
“I'm not the Dark One anymore,” he reminded her, flipping a book open. “That's the whole point.”
They read in silence. Regina's search was meticulous, but Rumpelstiltskin turned the pages frantically, as if he had already read everything twice over and the whole exercise frustrated him.
“Is this the only reason you asked for my help?”
Rumpelstiltskin looked up, once again lost by her question.
Regina wondered if that was a result of his new condition. Maybe it slowed him down a bit. Belle had mentioned memory gaps and brief moments of confusion, but his mind was still fully functional, or so Regina had been told.
“I mean,” Regina explained, “and I cannot believe I'm about to say this, but do you want to talk?”
He seemed ready to laugh at that, but didn't. “I know where Dr. Hopper's office is. But thank you for the offer.” And lowered his head to his book again.
Regina said, “Good. I wouldn't want you to cry on my shoulder.”
More pages were turned.
Then, he said, “This is a dream come true for you, isn't it?”
She laughed. “Trust me, of all the ways I figured your demise, watching you fade into the village coward you once were wasn't on my top ten list. In fact, it's rather anti-climatic.”
“Still,” he insisted, “you're about to become the most powerful woman in the land.”
“Well,” she smiled with false modesty, “in town. Though I am no Savior.”
“That is true.”
He went quiet again.
When Regina thought he wouldn't speak anymore, he said, “I taught you everything you know,” making her look up. To cover her shock, she said, “Is this the moment you apologize? Or do you expect me to thank you?”
Rumple looked up, and this time he found her eyes. He spent a good time measuring her, deciding whether or not to proceed, but finally he said, “You have not been cursed. Your darkness can't be broken by a kiss.”
She stared at him.
He shrugged. “Well, not literally, anyway.”
“Is there a point to this?” she demanded.
He said, “Mind your choices.” And looked away. Regina knew him well enough to know that, this time, the conversation was over.
She looked back at her book, but said, “That's hypocritical, you know?”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Which is why it's good advice.”
There was a lot of food. More than he had seen in his entire life. And Lady Belle kept adding more to the table. Different kinds of fruit, bread, and cakes. More than once he raised his hand timidly to ask for her attention, and said, “There's really no need, I'm not that hungry,” although he was starving. In two days, all he had managed to stomach was that small cookie, and he didn't even have the time, or the state of mind, to savor it.
Belle simply shook her head and said, “It's alright. You just eat as much as you want.”
As much as he wanted. But what would they do with everything else? Surely they wouldn't throw away what was left, would they?
“Well then,” Belle said, taking her seat across from him on the long table. “Would you like me to explain anything to you?”
Rumpelstiltskin stared at the table. He recognized the apples and the pears, which looked bigger and juicier than any he had seen before. And there were the strawberries, large and delicious looking, though it made no sense to him how these fruits could be served together.
“Is it summer?” he asked.
“It's September,” she answered.
“Can you grow berries in September in this world?”
“They're from my garden,” she explained. “I can grow whatever I want.”
“How?”
“It was a gift from my husband.”
He nodded. Magic. Yes. Maybe he should stay clear of the berries.
“That must make your life easier.”
“It does. You are free to use it, if you'd like.”
“And, uhn...” he looked around the table. “Is the milk from a goat?”
“Cow.”
He frowned. “You breed cattle?”
“No,” she laughed. “I got the milk from the market. It's easier to buy food in this world.”
“I can see that.”
“And we have honey,” she pointed, “and butter, and blueberry jelly. And these are chocolate muffins, they're very sweet.”
He scanned the table again. Where to even begin? At least she had given him a simple set of cutlery. If she had given him several knives and plates and expected him to eat like a gentleman he'd be mortified. The spinsters who raised him had educated him rather thoroughly on table manners (“Just because we are peasants, doesn't mean we should eat like brutes,” they used to say), but that wouldn't be enough if he were to eat with a Lady.
“This is bacon,” Belle said, pointing at thin, red strips of what looked like meat. “It's pork meat. And these are eggs, but scrambled. Cooked.”
He cocked his head to the side. That didn't look like eggs, although he had to admit, it did look delicious.
But it was best to start with what he knew. Tentatively, he reached for an apple, the smallest one, and cut a piece off of it using his knife.
“How is it?” Belle asked, as he chewed on it.
It tasted just as he expected, but a little sweeter, riper, like the ones Bae used to bring home. Rumple had never been good at climbing trees, even before he'd broken his foot, but Bae was always able to reach for the top branches. It drove him mad with worry. He was almost relieved when fruit became scarce because of the war and he could keep his boy close to the ground.
Encouraged by this, Belle reached for something brown and furry and cut it in half, revealing a bright green core. Curiosity must have shown on his face because Belle explained, “Kiwi. It's a fruit.” She passed him one half. “It's my favorite. Just don't eat the peel.”
He wouldn't have dared. It didn't look or feel like a regular fruit. But the color was so inviting and unexpected that it made him curious.
“What does it taste like?”
“It's a little sour, but also sweet.”
“And it's from your garden?”
“I promise you it's safe,” she answered, as if reading his mind.
Rumpelstiltskin blushed. Now he'd have to eat it, or else she might be offended. Or finally believe him to be a coward. So far, she had been nothing but kind, and he'd hate to alienate the only friend he seemed to have in town. Just like Belle was doing, he dug out the green core with a spoon and took it to his mouth. Unlike the apple, it took him a moment to get used to it. It was a little sour, like a berry, but it was also very, very good.
“I can see why this is your favorite,” he sighed, after swallowing.
Belle smiled. “And it didn't turn you into a frog.”
“No,” he agreed, chuckling quietly. “No, I suppose it didn't.”
Belle allowed him to eat in silence for a while, only speaking to suggest he tried something else. Rumple stuck to what was familiar at first, but at her insistence he tried the scrambled eggs (which he devoured greedily), the bacon (it felt strange on his tongue because it was so greasy, but still very tasty), and the so called chocolate muffins (just one bite felt heavy in his stomach, but he couldn't help eating the whole thing). In minutes, the beautiful table was half-empty and Rumpelstiltskin was washing everything down with large gulps of milk.
He put down the glass and tried to be discreet as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He looked up and Belle was smiling at him.
She said, “It's good to see you eating.”
“I'm not even hungry anymore,” he admitted. “But everything is so delicious.”
“I should introduce you to bagels and croissants. And hamburgers.”
“Did I like those?”
Her smile faltered. “You did.”
“And will you show me how to use the kitchen?”
“If you'd like.”
“I would. It's not proper for a lady to spend so much of her time serving a peasant.”
“I'm not a lady here. Nor are you a peasant.”
Rumpelstiltskin shook his head, disconcerted. This was even harder to accept than berries in the Fall. How did this society work if there was no royalty to guide and lead them? If someone as humble and insignificant as himself was the same as King David, what did that mean? How unimportant had people become?
He raised his eyes to Belle. “May I ask you a question?”
“As many as you need,” she answered.
“You were not born in this land, were you?”
“No. I'm from Avonlea.”
He nodded. Avonlea was in the south, he remembered that. He even recognized the tilt in her voice.
“And were you a...” he stopped before forming the word 'peasant'. If she was not a peasant – and she clearly wasn't – he might inadvertently offend her. “I mean, in our land... I was a spinner. As far as I can remember. If you don't mind me asking, what is it that you did?”
“I suppose...” she started, measuring her words. “I suppose you can say I am the daughter of a knight. Sir Maurice. So that does make me a Lady.”
He had married a woman of noble birth.
“And then,” she continued, “due to circumstances, I became a housemaid. Then, I was an adventurer. And now, I'm the town librarian.”
“That's... a lot of titles.”
“Yes,” she agreed, quietly. “Well, I had a funny life.”
“Who's had a funny life?” Regina boasted, walking into their dining room. The quietness was immediately taken over by her voice, the door slamming open, and Rumpelstiltskin hurrying to his feet and taking two steps away from the other woman. She eyed him with a smile. “Good morning. I let myself in.”
Belle got to her feet as well. “Next time, ring the doorbell.”
“I didn't want to scare your guest,” she explained. Then, she eyed Rumpelstiltskin, who was shaking and looking at the floor. “Clearly that didn't work out. How did you sleep, Rumpelstiltskin?”
“Regina,” Belle cut in, before he had the chance to answer. Or not answer. What does one say to a powerful witch? “I said I wanted a few days.”
“Yes, absolutely,” she smiled. “I come with a peace offering.”
Rumpelstiltskin dared to look up briefly. She was offering a basket of apples to him. They were as red as blood and not at all inviting.
“We may have started off on the wrong foot,” the witch said. “But we're family, I wouldn't want you to fear me.”
She laughed.
If she meant what she said, it wasn't showing in her tone.
“That's very nice,” Belle said, coming around the table and taking the basket of apples herself. “Thank you.”
Rumple knew that it would be good manners to invite the witch to join them for breakfast, but he hoped Belle wouldn't do it. No matter how many apples that woman picked for them, he couldn't feel safe with her in the room. There seemed to be no sympathy in her gesture. And then there was the way she looked at him, with calculating eyes, measuring him, following his every gesture, as if trying to catch him in a lie... if he did or said the wrong thing, she'd smite him without a second thought.
“Best apples you can find around these parts,” Regina smiled. “I was going to make you my special apple cider, but I wasn't sure you drank.”
There was a question in that statement, but Rumple didn't dare open his mouth.
“I take it you're not in the mood for socializing,” she said. To his relief, she didn't sound angry, but resigned. “I suppose that's fair. Will you be feeling more open to it later?”
“I think it's safe to say,” Belle answered, and it was clear that she was getting angry at the other woman's persistence, “that we'll need a couple of weeks before we can entertain guests, Regina.”
“I meant Henry,” the witch said, sounding like she was ready to roll her eyes at Belle's irritation.
At the mention of the boy's name, Rumple dared to look up. Bae's son.
Regina explained, “I thought I could bring him by later. You know, to meet his grandfather. If that is fine with the both of you.”
She looked at Belle, checking for her consent. Belle, in turn, looked at him.
“We don't have to,” she said, ever so kind. “But if you'd like to meet him today, I don't object.”
“Well,” Rumple started, measuring his own words. “As long as his real mother doesn't mind.”
Belle flinched, though he didn't understand why until he saw Regina's eyes narrowing at him.
“I am his real mother,” she said.
“Yes,” he said, hurriedly. “Yes, of course. I just meant... Lady Swan. Won't you need her permission?”
“As you can see, we are eating right now,” Belle cut in, her voice so urgent that Rumple understood immediately he had said something wrong, verging on dangerous. “Why don't I walk you out, Regina?” Without waiting for the goodbyes, Belle took a hold of the witch's elbow and pulled her towards the door. Rumpelstiltskin had to admire her courage. He never met anyone who'd be willing to challenge a witch.
*
Belle could feel Regina's anger, as hot as one of her fireballs. She was probably holding back on throwing one at her husband right now. Wouldn't surprise her one bit.
She tried to contain the situation by attempting an apology, “You know he doesn't mean-”
But Regina didn't give her the chance.
“I'd appreciate it if you brought him up to speed with our customs,” she snapped, pulling her arm free from Belle's grasp and walking towards the front door at a quick pace.
“Excuse me,” Belle fired back. “I don't know if you've noticed, but we haven't had a lot of time to adjust. But thank you for the apples and the tantrum. They're sure to erase the first impression you caused.”
Regina glared down at her, but her burning anger seemed to subside a little. When Belle opened the door, she said, “I did come to make things right.”
“And me thinking you just came to check on our progress.”
She shook her head, admitting, “Alright, I was curious if it would have worked.”
“What would?”
Regina stared at her. “You haven't even tried it?”
Belle stared right back, playing dumb. She knew what Regina was about to suggest, but she hoped the other woman would be polite enough not to bring it up.
Regina said, “Are you really telling me that True Love's kiss hasn't crossed your mind once-”
“I'm saying that I'm not going to try it,” Belle interrupted, and waited for Regina to ask why.
Instead, she said, “I understand your reservations.”
Belle rolled her eyes. “Yes, you've been nothing but supportive, since this whole thing started.”
“You're afraid that it's not going to work,” she said. “Or maybe you just don't want to have that conversation with him.” She threw the door to the dining room a glance. “Frankly, I don't blame you.”
“Are you done, Regina?” Belle demanded. “Because I have to get back to my husband.”
“I know I'm not the easiest person to deal with.”
“That's an understatement.”
“And I know that you don't believe me, but I do sympathize with your situation. I learned the hard way that love is not enough to win some battles.”
“Memory loss being one of them.”
“He didn't lose his memories,” she said, catching Belle's attention. “At least, that's not how he put it when it was happening. So I just thought you might want to try what is, right now, your best, if not only, option. And the sooner, the better.”
“Right.” Belle nodded. “Get it over with. You're a true romantic.”
“I didn't mean-”
“We'll be expecting Henry after school. Good day.”
Belle held the door open and didn't look her in the eye until Regina had crossed the threshold. It was a pleasure to slam the door behind her. A small victory that almost soothed the frustration that had been building up inside of her for weeks.
The joy of it was short lived, because as soon as she turned around she found her husband standing on the other side of the foyer.
He greeted her with a quiet, “Hi.”
Belle was too tired to hit around the bush. “How long have you been standing there?”
“I came to apologize, but you were already talking and I didn't want to interrupt.”
There was no point in asking. Judging by the way he was fidgeting with his cane, and how he was avoiding her eyes, it was clear that he had heard the whole thing. Or at least, the complicated part.
To her surprise, Rumpelstiltskin was the one to bring it up.
“What the witch suggested, the kiss-”
“Don't worry about it,” Belle said, her back pressed to the door, cornered. Obediently, he quieted down. “Lets just have breakfast.”
He nodded, but didn't move back into the dinning room. Belle didn't get away from the door either.
“Is that...” Rumpelstiltskin stammered. “Is that... like a spell?”
“Not quite,” she answered. “It's just- it's a belief that True Love is more powerful than any magic.”
“Including the one that made me forget?”
Belle's shoulders rose and fell with the sound of a sigh. “I really don't know.”
“But... if I were willing to try it-”
“You don't have to-”
“But just-just if I were, in this case... and if there is a chance that-that you could get your husband back... and that I could remember, make sense of everything-”
Belle interrupted, “It's not something that we have to decide now.”
“No, of course,” he said, his courage deflating and his face turning red. “I just thought- I'll clear the dishes.”
He left the foyer so fast Belle feared he'd trip over his cane. But he seemed to make it to the other side of the door in one piece, giving her time to breathe and collect her thoughts, while cursing Regina's name and her stupid ideas in silence.