Copyright infringement not intended.
A/N: I'm still not sick of this pairing. I never will be. My OTP and one of my few canon ships. So... Here is a little thing for Belle? I cannot think of anything larger than drabbles or ficlets or a variety of oneshots/twoshots. Sorry. But, er.. YES. Enjoy, my loves.

¬ Fine China ¬

"Illusions are the mirages of hope."

In both worlds, there is a man.

/*/

In the world with the pills and clinical monitoring, he is tall and thin, his chestnut hair sparkling with defiant silver strands. His dark eyes follow her, tracking her every move, and a wry smile twists his thin lips, displaying several gold-capped teeth. He is not young; age carves itself into his brow, thin worry lines stretching his skin.

He visits her occasionally and whenever he does there is a manic, hopeful air about him. "I'll get you out," he vows each trip, his accent thick and disorienting when she compares it to the dark-haired woman's cold, clear voice. "I promise."

She is mentally unstable, the dark-haired woman's helpers tell her as they pass her the daily meal. She is insane; the dark-haired woman says whenever she mentions the past - the life with gold straw and chipped cups and cruel queens. She doesn't know anything about her real life, the woman continues savagely.

But that's not exactly true. She knows him. She can still recognize his voice and his face; she can still recall the feel of his lips on hers.

When she forgets him and sells her memories to the evil woman, she will agree with them.

She would have to be insane to willingly give him up.

/*/

In the world with the dungeons and ogre wars, he is spindly and quick. His hair, dark and speckled with grey, brushes his shoulders in crisp curls. Madness gleams in his eyes, mixing with wit and wisdom in his dark brown irises; it gives him a dangerous, unstable look. His lips are thin but surprisingly soft, curving into giddy grins or infamous scowls. His skin, though a sickly green tone and scaly like a fish, is smooth beneath her palms, radiating a comforting sort of warmth.

He is called a beast, a monster, a coward - but she knows the truth. He has been hurt, so grievously hurt, and he doesn't want to be hurt again. So, he builds his walls out of bricks and fear - fear that is spun from mundane words: let's make a deal. He constructs the walls so they are tall and sturdy, impenetrable, unbreakable.

She doesn't want to hurt him. She doesn't take pleasure in hurting others, making them suffer. But... These walls - they're not helping him. They are hurting him, more than any lost love or angry sword.

If she doesn't like hurting people, she sure as hell does not like seeing others hurt.

Regardless of the consequences, despite her screaming instincts, she chips at his walls; she chips and digs and fights until those cursable walls are merely pebbles at their feet and her lips are against his, her fingers curling into her palms. Words like true love tumble from her mouth, leaping off her tongue.

Then there is pain and her mind is catching up with what she has done just as she stumbles upon the waiting Queen and her knights - what has she done? - and, quite frankly, she has never felt more stupid.

Because she had gotten forever with a word and she has lost it with a kiss.

/*/

In both worlds, there is a man.

In one, he is powerful - dangerous in the ways of money and knowledge. He walks with a cane but it doesn't belittle his strength. He stops at her cell and offers words of hope, of change. He promises to free her.

In the other, he is powerful still, though in a far more dangerous way. Grown men soil themselves at his appearance, shaky hands clutching trembling swords. He comes to her home and offers help, his protection in exchange for her eternity.

And, in both worlds, both realities, she loves him.

Ahh... I have to say, story-wise, I like the first part better. The Storybrooke bit. I don't know; the Fairytale land/Enchanted Forest place was harder to write. The last sentence - Christ, don't get me started. Here is the other way it would've ended...

And, in both worlds, both lives, she knows him. She trusts him.

After all, he's Rumpelstiltskin.

See? So, I decided to use it for the summary instead. Teehee. Fun fact: this was originally going to be a drabble. It went out of hand, obviously. Goddammit. Another fun fact: I have ... Three? Yes. No - wait. I have two other fics, not including this one, ready to post. Yeah; I have no life. I'll post them... Sometime.
Anyways, what did you guys think? Good, bad, God awful? Either way, please leave a review. It means the world. (:

Until next time,

Yr Alban.