On The Nature of Lady Justice

"If justice takes place there may be hope." – Alberto Manguel

Epilogue

After Regina's arrest and subsequent incarceration, life begins to return to normal in Storybrooke. Mary Margaret returns to teaching, Emma returns to her day to day duties as sheriff; the only thing that is very different to before is the fact that they now have Henry staying with them too. Gold watches the town go about its business from the window in Belle's hospital room. Life goes on around them, but here, in this room, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, time seems to stand still. He gradually begins to return to some semblance of normality himself; not that the previous status quo can ever be regained now that he knows that Belle is here, and against all the odds, alive. Now he has a second chance, one that he does not intend to waste. A week and a half after the accident, he opens his shop again, but his hours are shorter than they were before, and he still spends the majority of his time with Belle at the hospital, waiting for her to open her beautiful blue eyes again.

She is out of danger now, the doctors say. She is stabilising well; she began breathing on her own a few days after the accident, and she has since been moved out of the ICU, into the very room that Charming occupied during his long slumber here in the hospital. She is improving; he is constantly reassured of that.

But still she does not wake. This is a curse that even True Love's Kiss can't break, although knowing this doesn't stop him pressing his lips to her forehead every time he leaves her. This is medicine, not magic. True Love's Kiss will not wake her; she must wait until her body is physically ready to be awake.

Whale assures him that there is no reason why she should not wake up with time. Her brain function is healthy and normal, and her injuries are healing well. Gold wonders how long it will be, and if, when she does wake, she will remember him.

He thinks back to David Nolan's awakening, to the memories he almost regained, and he has an idea. Sadly, this idea means asking for help, and he is already in debt to Miss Blanchard as it is. Still, Gold thinks as he swallows his pride and knocks on her apartment door, if it brings Belle back, so be it. There will be time enough to wipe the slate clean and iron out what's owed once his beloved is safe and well.

Mary Margaret answers the door, and her surprise at seeing her landlord outside is plain to see in her face.

"Mr Gold, I wasn't expecting you. Are you here…"

"I'm not here for the rent," Gold interrupts, pre-empting her first question. "I've come to ask… a favour."

The young woman's eyebrows shoot to her hairline momentarily, but she recovers herself quickly and steps back to allow him inside.

"Of course. Come in. What can I do for you?"

Gold steps over the threshold and Mary Margaret shuts the door behind him. He doesn't like the door being shut; his escape route is blocked. Having spent so many years being fiercely independent and self-sufficient, he is not at all comfortable asking others for assistance, and the old desire to bolt is strong. Gold squashes it down. Mary Margaret waves her hand vaguely in the direction of the kitchen table, offering him a seat, but he remains standing. It feels easier this way, more like a business transaction taking place within defined parameters than something altogether more indistinct.

"Miss Blanchard," he begins, "as you know, Belle is in a coma. I know that you used to read to Mr Nolan when he was in his coma, you read Henry's book, and it helped him to wake up and remember. I was wondering…"

He breaks off.

"You'd like me to try reading to Belle to see if it helps her?" Mary Margaret finishes for him. Gold nods. The schoolteacher says nothing for a while, but then she lifts her chin and takes a bold step forward.

"Mr Gold," she says, and she's going to refuse, Gold can tell… "Mr Gold, I think it is very obvious that you care deeply for this young woman, and if anyone's voice is going to bring her round, it will be yours."

Gold blinks a few times as he tries to process what she's just said, and then he sighs and shakes his head.

"I talk to her all the time," he mutters. It's true, he's told her many a tale as he sits by her bedside, watching out for the slightest change. He's catalogued his life for her, telling her everything he did after she left – after he made her go, he corrects himself, however much it twists his heart to think it. So often he trails off as he realises all he is doing is listing his misdeeds, and that she wouldn't want to hear of the despicable things he has done without her guiding influence, but he forces himself to continue. She needs the truth from him; she deserves it.

Mary Margaret smiles, a genuine, warm smile that is honestly meant for him. "Maybe you just haven't been saying the magic words."

Oh, the irony. Gold can't help but return her smile with a minute one of his own. She won't realise the true meaning of those words until the curse is broken, but he takes them on board nonetheless.

"Henry's at the diner with Emma," Mary Margaret says. "I'll ask about the book when he gets back. I'm sure he'll be willing to lend it if it helps another star-crossed couple get their happy ending."

Gold raises an eyebrow at the notion of him and Belle being star-crossed, but Mary Margaret doesn't seem to be paying attention. Her brow is furrowed in thought. "He's never given you an alternate identity," she muses. "If David and I are Charming and Snow White and Regina's the Queen, who does that make you?"

"It's probably best if we don't know," Gold says hastily. Whilst Regina might be the first to feel the town's wrath when they waken from this curse, he knows that his original persona will not be far behind on their hit-list. Mary Margaret laughs, so innocent and unknowing, and so prepared to help him.

"Thank you, Miss Blanchard," he says eventually. "I'll be at the hospital."

X

Henry knocks on the door of Belle's hospital room – the hospital have finally relented and the name on her notes and admittance wristband now reads 'Belle Doe' as opposed to the Jane that she remained in the first few days.

Mr Gold doesn't turn – he seems to be asleep himself – so Henry lets himself into the room unbidden.

"Mr Gold?" he says, then a little louder. "Mr Gold?"

The pawnbroker startles out of his slumber and his cane clatters to the floor from where it has been hooked over his knee. Outside in the main ward, a nurse gives them a disapproving look on hearing the commotion, but none of the other patients seem to mind. For all Henry knows, a loud noise might be just what it takes to bring Belle round.

He can't figure out who Belle is, really. Her name indicates that really, she should be Belle of Avonlea, one half of Beauty and the Beast. But then, of all the fairytale characters, only Regina kept her original name when she came through into this world, which would mean that Belle couldn't be Belle. Could she? If her name was actually Isabella, like Regina said it was, that could make sense, and in the back of his mind, Henry remembers Emma mentioning something about Isabella Avonlea in passing. Weighing up the evidence, she's likely to be the same Belle.

As an alternative, Henry's keeping Princess Aurora as his second choice. After all, Belle means beauty, and she is most definitely sleeping at the moment. But then, that would likely make Mr Gold Prince Philip, and somehow, Henry thinks, that's not too likely.

Mind you, if Belle is Belle, that makes Mr Gold Rumpelstiltskin, which is only marginally more plausible.

Henry thinks for a moment as he crosses the room, holding out the book to the older man. Maybe it's not so implausible after all. Rumpelstiltskin is famous for spinning straw into gold, and his deals in the fairy tales equate to his contracts in Storybrooke.

"Thank you, Henry."

He rests the book on his lap but shows no signs of opening it.

"Miss Blanchard read the story of Snow White and Prince Charming to Mr Nolan," Henry points out helpfully. "Maybe a different one could help Belle."

Mr Gold nods. "I think I know which one I need."

Henry waits expectantly, but the pawnbroker clearly isn't going to divulge any further information.

"Well, good luck." He decides it's best to end on an optimistic note. "If it worked for Snow White and her prince, I'm sure it can work for you."

He leaves the room but pauses outside the door for a moment, listening. Maybe if he can identify the story, he can identify the characters. Through the glass, he sees Mr Gold open the book and look through it, turning over the individual leaves with care until he finally stops, about halfway in. Henry presses his ear against the door.

"Belle," Mr Gold is saying, "this is our story, and I swear I will tell it to you until you wake up and remember, and let me beg for forgiveness, even though it's more than I deserve."

There's silence for a long while and Henry has to glance up at the clock on the wall in the main ward; if Mr Gold doesn't start reading soon he's going to have to give it up as a bad job and go home or Emma and Mary Margaret will be sending out a search party.

Mr Gold runs his fingers over the illustration and finally begins to read.

"Sir Maurice was worried. A war was coming, an ogre war, and he knew that his small town could not hope to weather such a storm. It seemed that every day, more news came from the battlefields that strongholds far greater than his own had fallen to the marauding hordes of ogres. He had had to call for assistance from the only person who could guarantee his townsfolk's safety. He had called for Rumpelstiltskin."

Henry's read the book enough times to know which story Mr Gold is reading, and his initial suspicions are confirmed. He can't help but grin. It's the tale of Beauty and the Beast, meaning that Belle is really Belle, and Mr Gold is really Rumpelstiltskin. He listens again as the tale continues to unfurl.

""Well, that was a bit of a let down." Sir Maurice, Sir Gaston, Belle and the advisors turned to see Rumpelstiltskin himself sitting in the lord's own chair. Sir Gaston immediately drew his sword, but the imp seemed unperturbed. "I got your message. Something about 'Help, help, we're dying, can you save us?' And the answer," he continued, batting away the long sword pointed at his throat as if it were mere paper, "is yes. For a price.""

"Henry!"

Henry looks up to find Emma standing behind him, her arms folded.

"I was just…" Henry begins in his defence.

"I know what you were just." She tilts her head towards the exit. "Come on, let's give Mr Gold and Miss Doe some privacy."

Henry complies with good grace and follows Emma out of the hospital. Two more identities down, an entire town-full left to go…

X

Gold had paused in his reading when he heard Emma's voice and realised that Henry was eavesdropping. As intelligent as the boy is in figuring out the curse and their various identities, Gold doesn't want to add fuel to the fire just yet. Emma is still not in a position to believe properly, although she is well on her way.

"They've gone now," he tells Belle, glancing over his shoulder and seeing mother and son disappear round the corner. "Just us again. Now, where were we? Ah yes. "And the answer," he continued, batting away the long sword pointed at his throat as if it were mere paper… You know, my dear, I never really understood the obsession with swords. I mean, no-one likes a sword stuck up their nose now, do they?"

He knows he's imagining it, but he likes to think that the corner of Belle's mouth twitches into a momentary smile at the comment, and he continues to read.

They settle into a sort of routine after that. Gold will spend the morning and early afternoon at his shop before going to the hospital to sit with Belle, and Henry brings his book over after school. Gold reads to Belle every day, sometimes their story, sometimes another, just to add a bit of variety. Sometimes he forgoes the fairy tales and tries something wholly from this world; he thinks she'd enjoy the other fantasies here, Tolkien and Eddings and others. After all, Belle did always love her books, her stories. When visiting time is over in the early evening, he returns the fairy tale book to its owner and goes home, and the entire cycle begins next day.

He likes the pattern, the routine brings comfort, but at the same time, as long as there is this routine, there is no change; Belle remains deep in her sleep. The town continues to grow and live around them, but there, in that hospital room for a few hours each day, Gold forgets the existence of the rest of them, forgets their plights and petty troubles. It's just him and Belle. Sometimes he doesn't talk to her save to read; sometimes it's been a slow day and nothing much has happened, and it is on those days that he just sits with her, holding her hand, stroking her fingers, pressing the odd careful kiss to her palm, avoiding the wires in her wrist. He's desperate for her to wake up.

Six weeks after her accident, Gold is still reading to Belle.

"Belle sat on the table, swinging her legs a little. "I think you were lonely," she said. "I mean, any man would be lonely." I was Belle, I was rattling around in that castle, but that's not the real reason… Gold is not precious, never will be again. I didn't want your father's gold. I wanted something more valuable, and when I first saw you, well, I knew from that moment that you were utterly priceless…"

Gold breaks off, scans Belle's face for signs of response, and looks down at the limp hand in his. She's never moved in all the time he has sat with her; she's always been as still as a doll. But he could have sworn that he just felt her fingers twitch…

X

It's unusual for Gold not to drop Henry's book back in the evenings after he's borrowed it, unusual enough for Emma to be perturbed. A small part of her wonders, with not a little hope, if his delay is due to Belle finally awakening. She's certain that the hospital would let her know of such a momentous occasion, but then again, she is no longer Belle's emergency contact – that right has passed to Gold.

Emma wonders at the events of the past month and a half as she crosses over the road towards the hospital to investigate. Regina is locked in her own foreboding prison beneath the hospital – Emma is not comfortable having her in such close proximity but she could not stay in the Sheriff's station indefinitely and the nearest county jail is over capacity and won't take her. On learning this, Henry had just given her a knowing look, and Emma is beginning to believe his and Gold's words – that no-one is ever going to successfully leave this town.

The campaign to elect a new mayor is well underway; the three front-runners are the DA Spencer, Kathryn Nolan's father (King Midas, according to Henry), and, surprisingly enough, Granny. Personally Emma thinks Granny would make an excellent mayor; she seems to have more sense than most of the rest of the town put together.

And then there's Gold. He's changed and yet he's still exactly the same; still collecting his rent with the same quiet menace. The subtle air of power that he's always carried with him is still there, unwavering, but there is something else in his eyes now. He has received what so few do – a second chance when all hope was thought lost, and as long as Belle remains in her precarious state of limbo, sleeping her deep, deep sleep, he will never be able to fully realise this opportunity, use this second chance to the full. He is helping her gain legal custody of Henry, annulling Regina's adoption of him. Emma was quite willing to pay him, but he refused her money, telling her that winning against Regina was payment enough, and they're square now. She's never understood his view of life as a system of checks and balances, how he works out the monetary value of words and actions and weighs them against each other, but in the end she'll leave him to it. Emma is happy in her lot. She has Henry, and whilst she's still making parenting mistakes, she has the willing help of everyone in the town, giving her assistance and advice wherever she needs it.

It's been a little hard, making the transition, because up until his coming to live with them, her and Henry's relationship had been a strange one, more friends than mother and son, and it's easier for both of them to take liberties, and harder for her to set defined parental boundaries like bedtimes. Sometimes she feels she isn't ready for this and she should have had a bit more preparation, maybe taken a few crash courses before becoming a full-time parent, but circumstances are such that she is having to learn on the job. Emma smiles, she knows that she really wouldn't have it any other way.

Life, Emma reflects, is good.

She's a little surprised to find Gold still reading when she reaches Belle's room; she'd expected to find him dozed off. She gives a soft knock on the glass and enters. The scene is so sweet that she doesn't want to interrupt, and she stays listening to the pawnbroker narrate from the storybook. She's familiar with it enough through Henry and Mary Margaret to know that they are nearing the end of Snow White's tale – Prince James is fighting Rumpelstiltskin in the infinite forest, soon to hide the True Love potion in Maleficent.

"What do you know of true love?" James said.

"Not so much as you perhaps, but not so little as you might think."

Emma smiles, she can see why Henry eavesdrops on Gold's reading so much. He reads more like Mary Margaret does, with all the nuances of emphasis and intonation. On speaking Rumpelstiltskin's lines, his voice is queer and high-pitched, so far from the soft brogue she's used to hearing and so very befitting for the strange magician she's heard Henry describe. Her son is convinced of Gold and Belle's other identities now, and listening to Gold now, she can see why.

"You loved someone?" James asked the imp, his incredulity clear in his voice. Rumpelstiltskin's voice was hard and sad as he replied.

"It was a brief flicker of light amidst an ocean of darkness."

Emma gasps involuntarily. Practically the same words he said all those weeks ago, describing Belle as a brief flicker of light. Has Gold been reading Henry's book before, or is there something else at work here?

He breaks off on hearing her little intake of breath, and turns. He looks older today, wearied.

"Miss Swan."

"It's nearly end of visiting hours," Emma offers by way of explanation, her head still reeling slightly.

Gold nods. "I know. I just…" He gives a long sigh, squeezing Belle's fingers. "Her fingers moved. A couple of times today, and she's never moved before. I thought that if I kept going, maybe…" He shakes his head. "Ah well. It was a long shot."

He closes the book carefully and stands, his motions slow as he stretches out his bad leg and gets his balance back. He presses a kiss to Belle's pale cheek and whispers something that Emma doesn't catch but knows to be 'love you'. Gold comes towards the door. His eyes are fixed on the middle distance – he doesn't look back. Emma knows why he does it; he doesn't want the last glimpse he sees of Belle each evening to be her looking so fragile and so far away from him. Emma makes to step back and let him out of the room in front of her, tucking Henry's book in under her jacket, but as she does so, something catches her eye over Gold's shoulder.

"Gold," she says, grabbing his lapel to prevent him pushing past her out of the room. "Look."

Behind him, Emma can see Belle's face. She can see that her eyes are still closed and her position has not changed, but there are tear tracks running down her face from beneath her lids.

Belle is crying in her sleep.

"What?" Gold asks, his voice tired and flat from false hope.

"Just… look," Emma says, unwilling and unable to describe it properly.

Gold turns and glances over his shoulder, and his breath catches. Emma remains in the doorway as he makes his way back over to the bed, reaching it with just enough time to brush away the moisture on Belle's cheeks.

Her eyes flutter open. There is a moment of tense silence as she stares at Gold, and he stares back at her, weary brown eyes locked with newly-opened blue, both pairs brimming with unshed tears.

Then Belle gives the tiniest hint of a smile.

The End