Standard Disclaimer Time! I do not own Once Upon A Time or it's characters. Nor do I make any money off of this story. It is done purely for entertainment purposes.

-Michelle

It was a lonely stretch of road that the car traveled upon, nothing around for miles in either direction save for the many trees that made up the forest. They crowded both sides of the pavement, as if the forest itself was attempting to take back the land, starting with this very road. A sign in the distance even had leafy branches eating at it's metal, the words just barely readable when the car's headlights passed over it's front.

Now leaving Storybrooke, the sign warned, the car beginning to slow to a stop. The subtle noise of the tires, the purr of the engine, and the whistle of the wind was the only sounds to break up the uncomfortable silence inside the car. A silence Belle herself was at fault for, the woman barely able to mumble out forced replies to Rumplestiltskin's attempt at chatter. All too soon, the man had taken the hint, leaving Belle to her own private thoughts.

Her thoughts weren't particularly happy this night, Belle finding herself troubled. The man sitting beside her was the source of much of that trouble, Belle left to think and worry, and try to understand all that had happened on this, a most eventful day. The revelations that had occurred, the things she had learned, they weren't limited to just only his present actions, but to that of his past. Never a shining example of the good and just in their world, Belle had still always tried to believe in the best side of Rumplestiltskin. Tried to see what others did not. The good that offset the bad, the man behind the monster. She couldn't at all claim it had been easy, especially at the start of their association. Not when she had been his prisoner, a veritable slave forced to do his bidding in return for the aid he had given her kingdom. Back then she had been frightened of him, and doubted often the wisdom of her self sacrifice, for he had been mean if not to her, then to others, as vicious and as cruel as she had expected a monster to be when guarding his possessions.

The blood that had spilled never truly forgotten, Belle wondered now when she had begun to excuse Rumplestiltskin for his misdeeds. Was it when he had spared that thief and his family, or was it when Rumplestiltskin had stopped having Belle clean up the blood of his victims? Had the kindness Rumplestiltskin had shown her, blinded Belle to all that had gone on? Was she allowing herself to be willfully ignorant of his true nature as a coping mechanism that went hand in hand with her love for him?

No longer certain of anything where she and Rumplestiltskin were concerned, Belle could only worry and over think the day's events. Everything from the pirate who had chased her about the library, to the history forced upon her, to Rumplestiltskin's own behavior. Worrying inside, in private, for she hadn't the courage to ask Rumplestiltskin if it was all true. If he had really murdered his wife in cold blood.

Feeling like a coward for she feared that the answer was yes, Belle could only sit there in that awkward silence, the uncomfortable feeling maintained between them. Wondering about the lies, remembering the violence, and the honest pain gleaming in the pirate's eyes. It had been more than just his hand lost, and it had been about more than Baelfire's shawl being stolen. There was an ugly, painful history between the pirate and Rumplestiltskin, and it both hurt and terrified Belle that she hadn't learned the truth of it from him.

Hurting and frightened, Belle couldn't bring herself to admit to Rumplestiltskin what the pirate Hook had told her. She couldn't bring herself to ask for his side of the story, and yet neither could she forget Hook's either. The pirate Hook had done his damage well, planting seeds of doubt and mistrust into Belle. She felt sick, scared of the man besides her, scared of what he'd do, what she'd do, if Hook's words really did prove to be true.

True or not, she couldn't stop the echo of them, the memory of the raw hurt, and the vicious anger in which Hook had spoken both with. The pain in his eyes, the tremble of his lips pulling back in a snarl, as the pirate had told her in no uncertain terms how Mila had been killed, murdered by her own husband. Something like panic had filled her then, a terrified reaction to what had to be lie, she hadn't thought her heart could take it if Hook had been speaking the truth.

But the more she denied it, the more she shouted at him the word no, the more Hook had insisted it as the truth. Leaving Belle the one shaking, her eyes blinking back the tears that had sprung unwanted to her eyes. She had felt frightened then, not of the pirate who had seemed the immediate threat, but of the idea that he was telling her the truth. And on the heels of that new fright, Belle had remembered earlier in the day, of how she had asked Rumplestiltskin about what had happened to his wife, and the awkward side stepping that had followed.

It had been clear even then that Rumplestiltskin was evading her questions, hiding something important from her. But Belle had so wanted to believe, she had grasped for what little he did say. Not so much lying to herself, as refusing to even consider that Rumplestiltskin could have had a direct hand in Mila's death, to hear Hook accuse him, had in effect gut Belle whole.

It wasn't a complete hollowing out though. She wasn't empty inside, though it felt as though all her positivity and hope had fled in the face of her fear and her anger. And yes Belle was angry, wondering if she was a fool for having believed in Rumplestiltskin for so long, angry at the pirate for breaking apart the blissful ignorance that she had been wrapping herself up in. Most of all, Belle was angry at herself for not having the courage to demand answers from Rumplestiltskin. It didn't matter that she was afraid, that he might be a murderer, Belle was letting Hook win through her inability to act, to ask a simple question of whether or not it was true.

The words lodged firmly in her throat, Belle knew that Rumplestiltskin had to suspect something had happened. But HIS questions weren't coming any more than hers, the man perhaps just as frightened as Belle of what must be said, and of what Hook might have told her. So they sat in silent impasse, staring out of the front windshield of Rumplestiltskin's car. The shawl, the ever important catalyst of today's crushing events, lay on the seat between them. As precious an item as it was to the man that she harbored such complex feelings for, Rumplestiltskin still made no move to touch the shawl. Not with his hands gripping the wheel, fingers clenched so tight, it was a strangle hold.

Seeing Rumplestiltskin so tense, agitated Belle further in turn. Were his questions about to start? Were HERS? Would she be able to stop her fears from being voiced? Would she still be able to see the good inside him? Would Belle still be able to claim in honesty that she still loved Rumplestiltskin? And then her fingers clenched on her lap, Belle fighting to hold still, to not so much as allow a betraying quiver to go through her. But it was too late, she was scared, her love knowing doubt for the first time in ages.

"Belle." At last the silence was broken, Rumplestiltskin following her name with a drawn out sigh. The weary weight of his troubles was in that sound, the man no more relishing what HAD to be said than she. They were both acting as cowards, had been since the moment Belle had drawn Rumplestiltskin off of the pirate's ship. They had had hours since then, to talk, to question, to comfort and reassure one another, and yet neither had so much as tried.

"I...did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine." Belle said, glancing sidelong at Rumplestiltskin. His jaw clenched in response, Rumplestiltskin maintaining his straight ahead stare.

"That's not what I asked." His voice seemed to resonate with his effort to control his anger, Rumplestiltskin perhaps imagining the worst. His grip on the wheel went white knuckled, and at her gasp, Rumplestiltskin finally looked her way. Seeing her fright, he expelled another long breath, but didn't let go of the wheel. "I'm sorry Belle." He said to her. "I just wish you had let me finish him off."

"It's over." Belle told him. "If Hook is at all smart, he'll leave Storybrooke as ordered. You'll never have to worry about him again."

"It's not him I am worried about." Rumplestiltskin said, and finally let go of the wheel. "Belle I..."

Somehow Belle managed to hold herself still, as Rumplestiltskin took hold of one of her hands. "I don't know what I'd do if I had lost you."

The words spoken made her nauseous, Belle giving him a weak ghost of a smile. "But you haven't."

The look he gave her was searching, as if Rumplestiltskin was trying to see into her very soul. Whatever Rumplestiltskin did see didn't exactly comfort him, the man nodding slowly, as though coming to a decision. Belle had to remember to breathe, wondering if the truth would be spoken, if their love could survive it.

"There's a lot we need to talk about." He said to her. Belle could only give an uncertain nod, feeling tears prick at the back of her eyes as she waited for Rumplestiltskin to continue. "And we will...eventually...But Belle. I am asking you now, to still believe in me please."

Another searching look, and his voice took on a pleading not with it. "I'm still the man you fell in love with."

"Yes, you are." She agreed out loud. But inside, Belle no longer felt as though she knew who that really was. "And you're right. We do need to talk. About everything."

"Everything." But that seemed to make him flinch, Rumplestiltskin fearing the truth as much as Belle did.

As uncertain as she now was, Belle couldn't not take pity on him, giving Rumplestiltskin's hand a squeeze. "It'll be okay..."

Rumplestiltskin bowed his head, overcome with emotion. "I nearly lost everything today thanks to that pirate." He brought their hands to the shawl on the seat, the rough texture of the wool scratching against her skin. "If not for you, Belle..."

"I know how much this shawl means to you." Belle interrupted. "It's your once chance to find your son after so many years. How could I not act to save it?"

"I'm not just talking about the shawl."

"I know." Was her simple answer back. "But all that matters right now is finding your son." She pressed her fingers to his lips, silencing his protest as the first of her tears worked their way free. "We do have to talk. But that can wait."

Maybe it was the coward's way to wait on this. But maybe just maybe, with time they'd both figure out what to say, how to handle the truth together, and what outcome it might ultimately lead them to. Maybe Rumplestiltskin would handle things better, maybe Belle would, maybe she need not fear his rage. Maybe Rumplestiltskin would have finally learned to let go of the things, the people, that he viewed as his.

Her head filled with the many maybes to be had, Belle couldn't stop the doubt that curled through her stomach, the uncertain voice that whispered in her head. Because it was now a lot easier to see the darkness inside Rumplestiltskin eating at whatever sparks of goodness she had always stubbornly clung to the belief of.

As much as she had questions for the man beside her, the hows and whys of what had really happened to his wife fell to the side in the face of the questions Belle had been loathe to ask herself. The questions that had her wondering if she could truly love a murderer, if she could trust him, stay with him, and above all come away with her life intact regardless of what Belle ultimately decided to do. She feared the answers because Belle now feared the man, Hook's voice a sly whisper in her ear, asking her why she thought she'd be any different from all the others. The people who had left Rumplestiltskin, the ones who had walked away, and the ones that had been killed.

The sick feeling never gone for long, Belle drew back her hand. Rumplestiltskin's own eyes looked pained, and Belle could only guess at what thoughts ran through his own head. Probably nothing worse than the ones that she was having, Belle reminding herself it was the ultimate in acts of trust to go with him, a man whose actions she now feared, to a place far removed from any who would hear a cry for help.

Hating that she had had that thought, that she had let Hook poison the relationship that she had had with Rumplestiltskin, Belle fumbled with the car door. By the time she got it open, and stepped onto the pavement of the road, Belle had her face under control. Her own deep breaths accompanied her to the very edge of the curse's boundary, the red paint sprayed across it in a thick line. One more step, and it would be the end of her, her memories gone, her very identity wiped out as Belle was replaced by whoever the curse would have her be.

There was a slight temptation to step over, to embrace the purity of an existence that would forget what she had learned this day. But Belle wasn't about to quit on herself, or hand Hook so complete a victory. She'd find a way to cope, a way to deal with the truth, whatever it really was. And maybe someday she'd be able to not only forgive Rumplestiltskin, but herself for letting her love doubt for even a moment.

The fear of it, of the truth and of Rumplestiltskin's nature at hand, was one she had to confront. They both had to, if they were ever going to move on from it. But it wouldn't be today, the fear too strong, the courage fleeing them both. The tip tap of Rumplestiltskin's cane on the pavement was a slow steady contrast to the fast thumping beat of Belle's heart, the woman turning towards the man. He had the shawl in his hand, the buttery yellow wool preserved by magic so as not to have fallen to the ravages of time.

Wordlessly, Belle took the shawl from Rumplestiltskin, and a vial was produced from one of his coat's pockets. It was a slim container, with a bright blue liquid that didn't look nearly magical enough for what it was about to do.

Giving her his own version of a forced smile, Rumplestiltskin's anxiety showed in his eyes. He was nervous, but his hand didn't so much as shake or waste one drop of the potion. And as the liquid soaked into the center of the shawl, a magical glow accompanied it, the blue spreading, covering the entire length of the shawl. Belle felt the tingles in her hands, the magic touching even her.

"Is that it?" She asked out loud, glancing up from the shawl. "Has it worked?"

"Only one way to find out." Rumplestiltskin bowed his head, giving Belle the honor of placing the shawl around his neck and shoulders. She did so, smoothing her hands down the length of one end, and more tears came unbidden to her eyes.

"Good luck." Belle said, and meant it. The sincerity sensed in her words had Rumplestiltskin smile for real, the man briefly caressing the back of his fingers over her right cheek. Belle covered his hand, closed her eyes for one moment, then let go as Rumplestiltskin stepped over the boundary of the curse.

The touch of magic was around them, Belle so close to the edge, she felt the wind of it lift up her hair, and rustle through her clothing. She snapped open her eyes, saw Rumplestiltskin take two uncertain steps forward, clearly looking around. His name was on the tip of her tongue, Belle holding both her breath and her voice quiet, bearing witness to whatever might happen next.

Rumplestiltskin turned, looked at her with his head tilted to the side, as though he was struggling to remember. Then their eyes met, and his face broke out into a delighted smile, Rumplestiltskin pointing a finger at her with a laugh. "Belle!"

"It worked then?" She asked, keeping on her side of the marked boundary.

"More than worked." Rumplestiltskin looked happier than he had all day, quickly stepping closer to her. "I remember everything!"

"That's wonderful. I'm so happy for you, Rumple." Belle said, taking his hand when his expression sobered.

"Belle I wish you could come with me..."

"I know Rumple, I know." Belle said. "But you'll be back once you've found your son."

"And you Belle?" Another of his soul searching looks. "You'll be waiting for me?"

"I...of course." She said with a bow of her head so that her hair fell forward to hide her face. It was at that precise moment that a loud shot of sound rang out, the thunderous punctuation to her agreement. Belle wanted to turn and look around, but it all happened so fast, first the sound, and then the pain, her body jerking forward as though pushed by some unseen force's momentum. She didn't even have time to look up at Rumplestiltskin, her mouth frozen on a shocked scream.

"Belle!" She heard Rumplestiltskin scream, his arms going around her, trying to break her fall. But she was dropping too fast, bringing him down with her, and Belle couldn't remember where the boundary was, and which side she was going to land on.

"Belle! Belle!" She heard Rumplestiltskin repeatedly scream, his voice almost drowning out that of another. The pirate, Hook, the snarl in his words as he growled from somewhere behind her.

"I wouldn't count on it."

Feeling her hands tingle in what she assumed was anticipation of hitting the pavement, Belle was shocked when she fell right through it instead. She managed a scream, seeing endless black around her, feeling wisps of what Belle thought might be clouds, and seeing a bright moon that was far too full for the one that had shown in Storybrooke. Scared and confused, Belle had only seconds to think before she hit water, the cold embrace of some unknown sea swallowing her up whole.

To Be Continued...

So...*twiddles thumbs* Okay so I haven't written ANYTHING In three months. I kept getting sick, and then it was incredibly hard to get back into writing, to even get motivated. I had this particular idea first when I was sick with strep throat...or maybe it was the sinus infection. But I was too sick to try to write it. I wanted to write something for my existing stories first, but this story's set up won't leave my head, to the point it's distracting me from other stories. So I wanted to get the set up written, and then hopefully update something else, like Trade off or something.

I also feel incredibly rusty at writing. X_X

-Michelle