OUaT: All That You Can't Leave Behind
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,056
Disclaimer: Recognize anything? Then it ain't mine.
A/N: Another imagining of what the end of Storybrooke could be like, with a Rumpelstiltskin/Belle focus.
Summary: Everybody needs somebody at the end times.
An entire reality doesn’t collapse in an instant. The last gasp rattles from Regina’s lungs, everyone present holds their own breath, and nothing happens.
Not right away.
It starts in their eyes. The view before them goes flat, never seems to get closer, like pictures on a page. Objects lose their texture, the sunlight gets weak.
Ruby finds a long, familiar, crimson cloak hanging in her closet. Putting it on is like embracing an old friend.
Dr. Hopper starts bumping into things, unsure of his own dimensions. He loses his voice.
Then Michael vanishes while walking with Nicholas and Ava. Mid-step, gone, like steam. No one knows what to do with the children.
More people vanish. The pattern varies, but most often their clothes change, their eyes go wide, they start talking about the lives they once lived- then they’re gone. Those left behind can only assume they’ve gone home, but no one knows for sure. No one’s sure what home is. Tension fills the town as everyone waits for their turn.
Normal routines are out of the question. For lack of anything better to do, and to satisfy morbid curiosity, Mr. Gold pokes around Regina’s office. They buried her body yesterday, in dirt that might as well have been plastic. He wants to learn the rest of the Queen’s secrets, for his own pleasure. He never expects to find...
He decides to leave her alone. If she hasn’t vanished already she will soon, and no more harm will come to her. Not from his hands. Never again.
He leaves the office. Walks aimlessly through the flat fading town. He sees Emma and Henry. She won’t leave the boy alone for a second now. No one can say with certainty that he, born of this world, will come with them. Or if he’ll be stranded in the ruins of Storybrooke. If there are ruins.
He sees Mary Margaret and David, walking slow, arms around each other, her head on his shoulder. If Gold could believe in happy endings, he’d say they have the best shot at one.
A man approaches him. His eyes are wide and lost. He’ll be gone soon. “Sir, please,” he says, “Please help me. I can’t find Abigail, my wife. Have you seen her? I- I can’t...”
“I’m sorry,” Gold replies, “I don’t know the lady.” That might be true, but maybe it’s not. His thoughts are becoming hazy.
Despair fills the man’s face, and he wanders off. Gold watches him, sees his track suit shift to gleaming armor. A sword wavers in his hand, as if to say he would fight the monsters that hide Abigail, if only he could find them. He fades away, slow and spectral, alone.
In that moment, Gold feels a terrible swell of fear and sorrow in his chest. He has to find her. His soul screams its need for her. The only option, at the end, is bravery.
He feels so strange as he makes his way to the hospital, through the so-called exit door. He feels as if the core of him is moving, while the rest is still. It’s his turn.
He gets the key and wrenches open the cell door. And there she is. Tiny, thin, huddled in a corner on a rubber cot. “Belle...” he breathes.
She flinches and curls tighter and he curses himself. Of course she’s been taught to hate that name, to see it as a sign of madness. He has to believe that once she’s home, this damage will disappear. The injuries he gave her will remain, but the hell she’s endured here will pass like a shadow from her mind. He eases inside the cell and presses his back to the wall opposite her. Slides down it, carefully stretching his bad leg to avoid the worst of the pain. She says nothing, doesn’t acknowledge him. That’s fine. He’s here, at the end, the only place he wants to be.
The feeling in his core is getting stronger, sending tendrils out to his skin. He looks at his hands, and sees their color changing, nails sharpening. His curse is reasserting itself. All the better that he’s out of the public eye. However, he discovers he does have an audience. She peers at him from behind drawn-up knees and tangled curls. He wonders briefly if he should go, if the sight of him as he was will frighten her, as it has so many. Just as quickly he knows he can’t- he’s greedy for every second of her presence, even like this.
Still she watches him, and slowly, so slowly, begins to unfold her body. Now he watches- as he becomes beastly, she becomes beautiful. Color fills her stark white face, her cheeks lose their hollowness. Worn-in fear drains from her expression, replaced by soft puzzlement. “Rumpelstiltskin?”
His breath stops. He can hardly believe what’s happening. “I’m here,” he croaks. His throat hurts, vocal chords trying to skew high and low at once. A burning itch rolls over his scalp as his hair goes thick and wiry.
“You... you came for me.” Tears fill Belle’s eyes, and she reaches for him.
Rumpelstiltskin leaps to his feet, leather creaking around his frame. “Yes,” he hisses, one hand grabbing hers while the other cradles her cheek. The farthest folds of her light blue dress are fading. “I have- I will come for you. Wherever you are. I will find you.”
Tears roll down her face. “Please. Rumpelstiltskin, please, don’t let me go. I can’t- I need you.”
“I won’t. I will find you.”
“Promise me!”
“I swear, I will.” He will. He’ll take this curse of his and tear the kingdoms apart until they are together again.
“Please. Please find me.” She’s fading fast. “Don’t leave me.”
“I will be with you. Wherever you are-”
“Please find me-”
“- I will-”
“I love you.”
“- I swear. Belle, I lo-”
She’s gone. His hands close on air. The truth hangs in his mouth. It will stay there until he finds her, and tells her. They’ll be free of his curse. The Dark One can snap and snarl, but it won’t matter. They will be together. He will find her. He will.
Oblivion crawls through his limbs and into his heart. The man who was once Mr. Gold vanishes from Storybrooke.
Word Count: 1,056
Disclaimer: Recognize anything? Then it ain't mine.
A/N: Another imagining of what the end of Storybrooke could be like, with a Rumpelstiltskin/Belle focus.
Summary: Everybody needs somebody at the end times.
An entire reality doesn’t collapse in an instant. The last gasp rattles from Regina’s lungs, everyone present holds their own breath, and nothing happens.
Not right away.
It starts in their eyes. The view before them goes flat, never seems to get closer, like pictures on a page. Objects lose their texture, the sunlight gets weak.
Ruby finds a long, familiar, crimson cloak hanging in her closet. Putting it on is like embracing an old friend.
Dr. Hopper starts bumping into things, unsure of his own dimensions. He loses his voice.
Then Michael vanishes while walking with Nicholas and Ava. Mid-step, gone, like steam. No one knows what to do with the children.
More people vanish. The pattern varies, but most often their clothes change, their eyes go wide, they start talking about the lives they once lived- then they’re gone. Those left behind can only assume they’ve gone home, but no one knows for sure. No one’s sure what home is. Tension fills the town as everyone waits for their turn.
Normal routines are out of the question. For lack of anything better to do, and to satisfy morbid curiosity, Mr. Gold pokes around Regina’s office. They buried her body yesterday, in dirt that might as well have been plastic. He wants to learn the rest of the Queen’s secrets, for his own pleasure. He never expects to find...
He decides to leave her alone. If she hasn’t vanished already she will soon, and no more harm will come to her. Not from his hands. Never again.
He leaves the office. Walks aimlessly through the flat fading town. He sees Emma and Henry. She won’t leave the boy alone for a second now. No one can say with certainty that he, born of this world, will come with them. Or if he’ll be stranded in the ruins of Storybrooke. If there are ruins.
He sees Mary Margaret and David, walking slow, arms around each other, her head on his shoulder. If Gold could believe in happy endings, he’d say they have the best shot at one.
A man approaches him. His eyes are wide and lost. He’ll be gone soon. “Sir, please,” he says, “Please help me. I can’t find Abigail, my wife. Have you seen her? I- I can’t...”
“I’m sorry,” Gold replies, “I don’t know the lady.” That might be true, but maybe it’s not. His thoughts are becoming hazy.
Despair fills the man’s face, and he wanders off. Gold watches him, sees his track suit shift to gleaming armor. A sword wavers in his hand, as if to say he would fight the monsters that hide Abigail, if only he could find them. He fades away, slow and spectral, alone.
In that moment, Gold feels a terrible swell of fear and sorrow in his chest. He has to find her. His soul screams its need for her. The only option, at the end, is bravery.
He feels so strange as he makes his way to the hospital, through the so-called exit door. He feels as if the core of him is moving, while the rest is still. It’s his turn.
He gets the key and wrenches open the cell door. And there she is. Tiny, thin, huddled in a corner on a rubber cot. “Belle...” he breathes.
She flinches and curls tighter and he curses himself. Of course she’s been taught to hate that name, to see it as a sign of madness. He has to believe that once she’s home, this damage will disappear. The injuries he gave her will remain, but the hell she’s endured here will pass like a shadow from her mind. He eases inside the cell and presses his back to the wall opposite her. Slides down it, carefully stretching his bad leg to avoid the worst of the pain. She says nothing, doesn’t acknowledge him. That’s fine. He’s here, at the end, the only place he wants to be.
The feeling in his core is getting stronger, sending tendrils out to his skin. He looks at his hands, and sees their color changing, nails sharpening. His curse is reasserting itself. All the better that he’s out of the public eye. However, he discovers he does have an audience. She peers at him from behind drawn-up knees and tangled curls. He wonders briefly if he should go, if the sight of him as he was will frighten her, as it has so many. Just as quickly he knows he can’t- he’s greedy for every second of her presence, even like this.
Still she watches him, and slowly, so slowly, begins to unfold her body. Now he watches- as he becomes beastly, she becomes beautiful. Color fills her stark white face, her cheeks lose their hollowness. Worn-in fear drains from her expression, replaced by soft puzzlement. “Rumpelstiltskin?”
His breath stops. He can hardly believe what’s happening. “I’m here,” he croaks. His throat hurts, vocal chords trying to skew high and low at once. A burning itch rolls over his scalp as his hair goes thick and wiry.
“You... you came for me.” Tears fill Belle’s eyes, and she reaches for him.
Rumpelstiltskin leaps to his feet, leather creaking around his frame. “Yes,” he hisses, one hand grabbing hers while the other cradles her cheek. The farthest folds of her light blue dress are fading. “I have- I will come for you. Wherever you are. I will find you.”
Tears roll down her face. “Please. Rumpelstiltskin, please, don’t let me go. I can’t- I need you.”
“I won’t. I will find you.”
“Promise me!”
“I swear, I will.” He will. He’ll take this curse of his and tear the kingdoms apart until they are together again.
“Please. Please find me.” She’s fading fast. “Don’t leave me.”
“I will be with you. Wherever you are-”
“Please find me-”
“- I will-”
“I love you.”
“- I swear. Belle, I lo-”
She’s gone. His hands close on air. The truth hangs in his mouth. It will stay there until he finds her, and tells her. They’ll be free of his curse. The Dark One can snap and snarl, but it won’t matter. They will be together. He will find her. He will.
Oblivion crawls through his limbs and into his heart. The man who was once Mr. Gold vanishes from Storybrooke.