Rumplestiltskin leapt to his feet, stumbling backward, pain lancing through his twisted leg. He gritted his teeth, and sat down hard again as the breath whooshed out through his nose. He massaged the ruined muscles as best he could, his mind racing, turning over Belle's words again and again. Our daughter. Our daughter! They had made a child together. A child...He nearly burst into tears.

"Let me tend you," Belle came off the rough bench and knelt beside him, "you pushed yourself past pain today, and on my account. Let me help." She reached for his leg where he was rubbing it, but Rumplestiltskin flinched and turned away from her, shaking his head and keeping his bad leg out of reach. Oh, how it ached.

He shook his head again, his long hair falling over his eyes. A curtain of sandy brown to hide behind once again, just as in their youth. His voice was more harsh than he meant it to be, "No. There's no need, Belle. I'll be fine."

Belle leaned forward to try and catch his eyes in the firelight, but he evaded her, choosing instead to stare at the dancing flames. "But Rumple, I have some skill in healing. I can help," she pleaded with him, but he only shrunk further away.

He did not want her to see his shame, his disgrace, the physical manifestation of his cowardice. If she did, how could she do anything but despise him just as Milah had? He laughed, but it was like acid and bitter to the taste, "It's long past healing, Belle. There's nothing you can do on that account, I assure you." They were silent for a long moment, and he wilted further under Belle's curious scrutiny. She tilted her head, staring too hard, her gaze stripping away the layers that hid him.

"What happened to your wife?" Belle asked, there was no accusation in her tone, only curiosity. But he closed his eyes and swallowed hard against the question he knew was next. "Did she die?"

"No, she left us," his voice as hollow and weak as he felt. Just as everyone leaves. Everyone.

Belle was silent, letting him decide how much to say. He took a deep breath and decided to do the brave thing, to tell her the truth. It would most likely drive her away, but better to do it now, like taking the dressing off a wound, than to fall for her all over again only to have her leave when she learned the truth. Just as everyone leaves. Everyone. That he had been branded a coward for turning from battle. That his name was reviled far and wide in the countryside, at her husband's word. That he was surely dust.

"I thought you'd gone with the king's men to start the life you were born to," Rumple began, searching for the words to tell her everything, all at once. "The spinsters were so angry with me, they threw me out the next morning. I wasn't even allowed to pack my few possessions. Just go, Margarethe said. You have shamed us. I was suddenly alone and I couldn't stop thinking about you. It was driving me mad. I had truly resolved to take you away, to start a life with you, Belle," Rumple shook his head sadly, his fingers playing idly with the rim of his clay teacup.

"I wanted to go after you. But I knew it was useless to try." He stared at the floor, "I came here to Fairholt, after a few weeks of wandering, and found a place to work on this sheep farm, I worked for farmer Sherer for nigh on half a year before he came to me with a proposition.

"Milah was the farmer's daughter. The old man was dying and he wanted her to marry so she could inherit the farm. He chose me because of my skill at spinning and weaving and my experience with the animals. But Milah always wanted more than what I could ever hope to give her, she only agreed to appease her dying father." He was desperate that Belle not pity him, but the truth was the truth.

"I tried to be a good husband to her. Truly I did. I worked hard, I taught her to weave, and we made a good living." He swallowed hard again, trying to relieve the dry lump that wouldn't quite go away, "Or I thought we did. But she never saw me as good enough for her, and she always wanted more than what we had. She certainly never loved me. We consummated the marriage of course, but we were never lovers." He shook his head and sighed, he still couldn't meet Belle's eyes, "Perhaps she knew my heart already belonged tae another."

Belle looked up at him, her blue eyes wide. Was that a glimmer of hope he saw there? But Rumplestiltskin took a sip of cold tea that failed to wash away the knot of fear and self-loathing that was making it difficult to speak or breathe. He still would not look at her. He couldn't bear to look into those familiar blue eyes and see disdain, the revulsion he so expected. "I must have got Baelfire on her the shortly before I was called to war. I thought she was taking pity on me, but I realized later why she was so willing those nights and not unhappy to be rid of me when the day came. If she was a single mother and a widow, she could petition King George for a double stipend to keep the farm going."

"I dunno, Belle," his laugh was a bitter bark, his brogue thick with emotion, "but she was quite disappointed when I returned. She practically threw Baelfire at me on her way out the door and made it crystal clear it would ha' been better if I'd just been a good soldier and died on the field. She came home the next morning at dawn, and most mornings after that. If I couldn't find her, I knew to try the tavern in the neighboring town, or the inn on the highway." Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes and his face was a grim mask of pain, "Or most likely, at the taverns by the docks. I understood she dinnae love me, that she utterly despised being bound to a disgraced coward. But how could she neglect that beautiful boy?" He did cry then, gesturing toward the boy sleeping in the loft, buried in a drift of straw for warmth.

"A seer had told me my son would grow up fatherless!" he was babbling, desperate to show Belle he wasn't a coward. "I didn't even know Milah was with child when I left. How could I go to my death without ever meeting my son? How? It dinnae seem right, Belle!" He slammed his fist on the table.

Belle reached out to try and soothe him, but he pulled away from her, crouching in on himself. Just tell her! "I took the sledgehammer to my own leg, so I could go home and meet my boy rather than be a sacrifice! A sandbag a'gin the rising tide of blood and bodies!" He was shouting now. The anger spilling out of him in torrents. "And Hordor had me branded. Branded! Spread the news far and wide so I would nae be able to feed my family. Rumplestiltskin is a coward, a turncoat, a traitor!"

Rumple put his face in his palms, carding his fingers through his hair, hands shaking with fear and rage. But he was calm when he spoke again, sorry that he had shouted and perhaps frightened Belle. But she merely listened quietly, her hands folded in her lap where she still knelt at his side, so careful not to push him, to frighten him, and send him skittering away to hide in a dark corner. There, now she knew the truth of him, and she could leave if she wished. "Then one day, about a year ago, she just left. Our neighbor told me that the pirates had kidnapped her, but when I went to the docks to rescue her, I found instead that she had chosen to leave with them of her own accord. That she could no longer stand the sight of me. That she preferred the company of real men."

Belle put her hand over her mouth in horror at the thought of being willing prey to an entire ship full of pirates. "Rumple! I don't understand how a mother could just leave her child for...for...that!"

"I told Bae his mother had died," he sighed bitterly, "I thought it kinder than the truth."

"I can't imagine," Belle shook her head in disbelief, "there were times when I thought I might die, but I couldn't conceive of leaving our sweet Hope, even in death. I just kept thinking of finding her again. Of finding you, I knew you would help me get her back. That you would never stop fighting for us, once you knew."

"Of course I will help you, Belle," he ran his hands through his hair again, a nervous habit, like rubbing his thumb and finger together the same way he spun his fibres. "And I will help you get someplace safe, but I'm not the man you knew so long ago. I'm the village coward. I'll understand if you do not want to be associated with a scarred cripple, an outcast who will never be any more than...than...this..." he waved his hand to encompass the darkened room. He saw only poverty and dishonor. He couldn't imagine Belle saw anything different. "I will only disappoint you."

"We all have scars, Rumple," Belle said quietly. She studied her hands that sat clasped on her thighs, "Only some of them are visible." Silence stretched between them, each lost in their own memories. Rumple's ragged breathing and Baelfire's quiet snoring filling the room until Belle finally whispered, "I have both."

Rumplestiltskin watched her as she rose, standing between him and the glow of the hearth. Belle unclasped her cloak, laying it gently across the end of the table, and began to unlace her bodice. Rumple's eyes darted away, and he gripped the clay cup until his knuckles whitened, "Belle, what are you doing?"

Her fingers did not stop her deft work with the laces of her dress, "I must show you something." He could hear the tremor in her voice now, "I need you, Rumple, I care nothing for what you think my husband's lies have made you. You are still a better man than he will ever be."

Belle turned her back to him, "I told you, I almost died. There were times when death would have been a mercy." She let her bodice and chemise fall down around her waist, exposing her shoulders and upper back. "Only thoughts of our daughter, of finding her and keeping her safe, kept me from tumbling into the abyss. Or leaping."

Rumple gasped, bile rising in his throat as the firelight glinted red and gold over a network of scars that covered her back. They ran this way and that, some fine and straight, some wide and jagged. Rumple stood, his own pain forgotten as he limped to stand behind her. His voice, when he found it, was a ragged croak, "Belle…"

He reached out to touch her skin, her once beautiful porcelain skin, now an angry map of red and white, and stopped just shy; his fingertips hovering, "Oh, sweet Belle…"

"It's ok, Rumple," Belle's voice had stopped quivering, though he could see her shoulders tremble, "you may touch them."

He did. His fingers ghosting over so many criss-crossed lines he lost count. Tears slid down his cheeks and Belle leaned into his touch, "So many, Belle. How? Who did this to you?" He could hardly speak, his voice breaking as his fingertips found each new divot, each horrifying welt. "Why?"

He could see that some were years old, those were paler and flatter. But then there were others, angry and red and far more fresh. He touched each one with a quiet sorrow that lanced through him. He wished he could take them all from her one by one, to absorb the pain and memory of each and leave her whole again. He wished it so hard he could barely breathe. "Why, Belle?"

She laughed softly, "I was neither a willing, nor obedient wife."

"Your husband did this to you?" Rumple sagged, catching himself on the edge of the rough wooden table, imagining the years of abuse and suffering she must have endured. "I don't understand. You are the kindest, most gentle person I have ever known."

"Ah, but you forgot stubbornest as well," Rumple could hear her small smile.

"There is that," he agreed, letting his hands drop to his sides.

"The clerics were first, though." Belle sank to the floor in front of the fire, and Rumple followed her, his leg stretched out at an awkward angle, but he felt nothing of his own pain while Belle spoke of hers. He sat behind her, and she settled back against him with a soft sigh. He closed his eyes and for just a moment, time had stood still, he was the same man she had loved and wanted all those years ago and they were nestled together in the hayloft.

The glamour lifted when she began to speak. Long gone were those fresh-faced youths, bright-eyed and full of ambition; the two that sat here now, clinging in the dark, were broken, damaged ghosts of what once was. "They cleansed me. Scourges and flame, while they chanted the laws day and night. King George was furious that I had ruined his plans for me. It was days or weeks, months perhaps, it's all so distant now. I don't know how I didn't lose the baby."

Rumple's hands closed into fists. Fists so tight, he began to shake. "They beat you while you were with child?" His voice trembled, "And they call that justice? It's reprehensible."

Belle took his hands and wrapped his arms around her like a cloak. She shook her head, "When they realized I was with child, they left me alone. Truly alone. I was isolated until well after I gave birth." His arms tightened around her involuntarily, and she ran her nails lightly against his skin, making him shiver. He closed his eyes. "She's beautiful, Rumple."

Tears slipped down his cheeks. "I named her Arianwen," Belle whispered.

"A name of my people," he sobbed into her hair. "It means silver-grey." He rocked her against him, and she nodded. He felt her tears fall on his arms and they burned his skin.

"I named her Arianwen, because her eyes were as grey as the sea near Avonlea on a stormswept day, But from the first moment I held her, I called her my Hope." Belle said a little apologetically. Rumple squeezed her tight to show his understanding. "She was my light in the darkness."

"I was allowed to keep her with me, to hold her and feed her," Belle started to tremble again, "but at one year, they forced me to wean her. At eighteen months, she was taken from me and given to the spinsters. Payment, I suppose for losing you and me." Belle leaned forward, out of his embrace, he let her go and she sobbed quietly for a few minutes, her face in her hands. It was only a few moments before she sniffled, composing herself and wiping her tears away. "I couldn't eat or sleep, all I did was cry for her. I begged them, but there was no mercy. If I would not comply with their wishes and that of the King, the cleansing would begin again."

"I was damaged goods, soiled in the eyes of cleric and king. They did something to me when the babe came, to make it seem as though I could be a maiden still. My shame was hidden, but my maidenhead could not truly be restored." Belle shuddered. "A woman's body is not her own in these lands. Am I less a person than any man?" She sighed, "I wish I could change that, though I cannot see how. Regardless, once I was tamed, negotiations for my hand began again, and within a few months it was decreed I would marry Hordor, Lieutenant of the Duke's armies."

"There was barely even a ceremony. Just the king and clerics declaring we were married." Belle closed her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath. "He is a cruel man, though I suppose you know that from the war."

"I do, I've seen him take delight in the pain of others," Rumple sighed. He sat behind her but didn't touch her.

Belle nodded. "Yes. And when I didn't conceive him a son or any child, he began blaming me. With each passing month, he treated me with more and more cruelty. I won't speak of it, but he was most vile in his desires. I tried to run away.

"I didn't make it off the grounds before I was caught, many of the scars you see were from that awful night." Belle shivered, and scooted back into Rumple's embrace once again. "I didn't think I would survive to see the dawn. But I thought of Hope, and of you and I kept my sanity."

"Belle, I'm so sorry!" He folded himself around her, as though he could protect her now from the demons of the past. She was as strong as a branch of yew, but the fierceness of his love for her made him bold. Like Bae, he knew he would gladly lay his life down for her safety, and for his daughter. His heart pounded a little stronger when he realized his life was not completely worthless to not one person now, but three.

"He left me alone more and more often after that," Belle said, "One of his many mistresses bore him a son, and he made sure to rub it in my face every time he came to me. He made sure to inform me that I was a worthless whore who refused to bear him a son."

"But if he conceived a child with his mistress and we conceived a child together…" Rumple trailed off.

Belle turned and gave him a wry look, "There are herbs to stop a child from starting. I took them in secret. I would rather have been beaten bloody every day than to bring a child into that place, I would never call it a home."

Rumple was silent as continued her story, "After several escape attempts and fruitless beatings, he finally decided to just be rid of me." She bowed her head, "But he was not content to let me slip away, he wants to marry the mistress who bore him the son and make him his legitimate heir."

Belle wrung at her skirts, her hands worrying at the fabric, tangling in the laces of her forgotten bodice, "He informed me that worthless whores should be treated as such, that I was to be given to one of his companies as a…" she hesitated, she could barely say the word, "a plaything. And that afterward he would have me brought up on charges of prostitution and infidelity. That I would be executed for my crimes and he would be free to marry again. I made sure I was not caught when I slipped away that night. I went out through the sewers. All that mattered was that I got away."

Rumple's was miserable thinking of her suffering, knowing she would blame him for it, that she should, "I wish so much that I had not failed you, that we had left that night, after. Just run anywhere."

"It's not your fault." Belle insisted. "It was my fate, and I survived it. Just as I survived the ogres as a child. For two days I lay trapped beneath the bodies of my parents before they found me. If I opened my eyes, I could see my mother's face, only…" Belle choked back a sob.

Rumple held her tight in silence for a moment, "No wonder you wouldn't speak of it when we were younger. I should never have asked you."

"How could you know, Rumple?" Belle shrugged. "It was so long ago, but I will never forget their sacrifice as they shielded me from the attack. "My mother's last words were, 'I love you,' before she lay on top of me." She turned and took Rumple's hands in hers, sitting cross-legged with her back to the fire, her breasts were bare, and she didn't move to cover them. Her blue eyes shone bright as diamonds in the dim firelight, and he did not look away, "I love our daughter just as fiercely as my mother loved me. I will not rest until I have her with me again."

"Nor will I, Belle," he squeezed her hands and she gave him a little half smile. "I don't even know her yet, and yet I love her just as much as I love Baelfire. I would give my life for Bae, could I do any less for our child? For our Hope?"

"Thank you." She lifted his hands to her lips and kissed them. "I never stopped loving you, Rumple. I never hoped for rescue, because you had no way of knowing what happened, but I never gave up wondering if I could find you if I got away. If you would still love me, in spite of everything."

"Oh, Belle," he sobbed, the pitch of his voice rising as he forced out the words, "of course I still love you. I never stopped loving you. It is I who am no longer worthy of your love." His whole body was shaking with the storm of emotions that boiled inside him, fear and loathing warred with love and desire and he was the battleground. He made a silent vow in that moment, one he would never speak to the gentle Belle, but one he meant with every fibre of his being. I will kill that despicable bastard one day, I promise you, Belle. Somehow, I will find a way to kill him. And I will end that cult of fools who call themselves clerics and torture in the name of the gods.

"Belle.." he choked out past everything that threatened to suffocate him where he sat.

Belle silenced him by leaning forward and brushing her lips against his. There was no demand, no violent rush of pleasure, just a warm glow that spread slowly from his tingling lips to the ends of his hair as they danced about in the electric crackle of magic. He felt it in his bones, and the tangy spice of lightning tickled his nostrils. Her simple kiss had broken him out of the curse of his own making, complacency and fear. Somehow, miraculously, she still loved him, and he could not fail her again.

"What was that?" Belle asked as she pulled back. Rumple shook his head, his hands rubbing her bare arms. Noticing for the first time that her bracelet was gone. Of course it was. How could she have kept hold of it through all that she suffered? He traced the line where it would have been on her too thin arm. She looked up at him, as if reading his thoughts. "I put it around around Hope's wrist, before she was taken from me, fashioned so that it would grow with her. Elsinore herself took Hope from my arms. I looked her in the eye and begged her not to take it off. She promised me with tears in her eyes, Rumple." Belle smiled, and gripped his arms, "I hope it is still with her."

Rumple opened his leather pouch, and pulled out a carefully folded parcel of vellum. He untied the meticulous bow and unfolded it, holding the contents out for her to see. She gasped as she opened the folded parchment, her original straw bracelet lay carefully preserved, so delicate, but still whole. She touched it with a gentle reverence.

"You kept it?" Tears rolled down her cheeks once again, "my straw bracelet."

"It's the only object I truly cherish," he whispered. "If everything burned around my ears I wouldn't have cared, so long as I still had Bae, and this."

"I won't lose you again, Rumplestiltskin. I am yours and you are mine." She took his face in the palms of her hands and would not let him look away. "In the morning, we are going to find a way to get our daughter back, and we are going to find a safe place where we can be together, a family. I won't lose you again. I won't."

Her kiss this time was fire and ferocity, her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him towards her. Rumplestiltskin wrapped his arms around his lovely Belle and held her close, her bare torso pressed to his chest, and they kissed until the world stopped turning, stopped threatening to upend him.

"Papa?" A sleepy voice called down from the loft. Belle scrambled to cover herself, blushes coloring her pale skin even redder in the firelight. "I'm thirsty."

"I'll bring you a cup of water, son," Rumple called back, trying his best to keep his voice level and even. He smiled shyly at Belle, shrugging when she giggled quietly into her hand, and took Bae his promised cup of water. He was gone for a few minutes, soothing Baelfire back to sleep in his nest of straw and blankets with quiet words and a softly sung tune.

When he returned, the fire was blazing merrily in the hearth, a couple of large logs having been added to the grate, and Belle was snuggled under the pile of soft woolen blankets and sheepskins that covered his modest bed. Her clothing was draped neatly over the footboard, everything, down to her knickers and woolen hose was there.

Rumplestiltskin blushed to the roots of his hair, "Belle…"

But Belle only smiled at him, both shy and alluring, opening her arms and beckoning him to join her under the covers. "Come, warm my feet…"