Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"What have we got here?" Dr. Belle Weaver asked as she entered the cubicle of the emergency room.

"Male, mid-fifties maybe – someone found him while out jogging on a trail, no idea how long he was there."

"Any ID on him?"

"Not that we found. He's been unconscious the whole time but his pulse has been steady. Looks like he got a pretty bad beating though, we should check him for internal injuries as well as broken bones." Belle walked toward the gurney that the patient lay on and was about to check his pupils for reactiveness, but gasped and pulled away when she saw his face. Belle stood and stared at the man, her facial expression showing shock at what she was seeing. "Dr. Weaver – what's wrong?"

"I – it can't be. It's impossible." Belle reached out and touched the unconscious man's face. "He – he looks exactly like my husband."

Dr. Belle Weaver was an emergency room physician at Hyperion Heights County Hospital. And her husband, Detective Finlay Weaver, had been dead for eight years.

"Thanks for coming," Belle said as Roni, her closest friend and owner of the bar two blocks away from the hospital, entered the waiting room. The two women hugged.

"Did you tell Gideon yet?" Roni asked.

"Tell him what? That his father is back from the dead? It – it can't be him. Can it? I mean, we – there was a funeral. You were there."

"I don't know, Belle – you know, Finn worked some pretty deep undercover stuff, maybe he faked his death."

"For EIGHT YEARS? No. He wouldn't do that to me. He wouldn't do that to our son. Roni, if that's him – something happened. Something really bad."

"And if it's not?"

"I – I don't know. I don't know what to think."

"You know, you can find out pretty quick," Roni suggested. "Do a DNA test on Gideon."

"I – that's unethical, I'd need his permission!"

"Given that he's unconscious, I don't think you're going to get that right now."

"I took an oath, Roni. I can't just go around doing DNA tests on random patients! Besides what would I tell Gideon? I – I'll just wait till he wakes up and – see what he says."

"What if he doesn't wake up?"

"I thought you came here to support me." Belle started to cry a bit.

"Hey – I'm sorry. Look, I know how hard everything has been for you. What happened to Finn was awful, for both you and your son. It wasn't fair."

"I just don't want to get my hopes up, Roni, but – god, I miss him so much, still. I miss him every day. Every day I keep thinking that when I go downstairs, he'll be there in the kitchen, making me breakfast and greeting me with a kiss."

"He used to greet me with 'Give me a Highland Cooler, and if you skimp on the Scotch I'm not paying,'" Roni said, imitating a Scottish brogue. Belle laughed a bit. "You know, I remember when you two met at my bar. That was quite a show to watch. I didn't know whether to root for you or put a stop to it before you broke into a bar brawl. Talk about a mismatch – at least that's what I thought. Shows you what I know."

"Dr. Weaver – the patient is out of surgery – he's still in recovery, he should be taken to ICU in about an hour," a nurse said, peeking her head into the room.

"How – how is he?" Belle asked.

"Critical but stable. After a couple of days, we'll have a better idea of his prognosis," the nurse said.

"Thank you," Belle replied, and the nurse left the room.

"So what, you gonna hang out here all night?" Roni asked.

"I don't know. Gideon is out of town with friends for the weekend, and I'm off tomorrow, so – maybe."

"Belle – you don't even know if it's Finn."

"I don't know that it's not, either. And either way – he shouldn't be alone. Since we don't know who he is – someone needs to be there for him. Might as well be me."

Belle sat down in the chair next to his bed and stared at the man for several minutes. She tried to find something – anything about him that was different. There was nothing. This man looked exactly like her husband. What puzzled her was his age – the man was clearly in his mid-fifties, which was the age that Finlay Weaver was when he was killed in the line of duty. If this was Finn, he hadn't aged a bit. Belle, on the other hand, was starting to show her age. She definitely looked good for a woman who had entered her forties, but there was a bit of gray hair peeking through now and again.

One week. He was planning to retire from the police force in one week. He hadn't been working out in the field much at all – most of his work was undercover. But that night, there was a violent brawl near the troll bridge. All units were called to assist. He wasn't even supposed to be working that night, but he took on an extra shift to cover for a co-worker who had the flu. Belle thought about that night every day for the past eight years. If he had just said no – he'd still be with her. He'd have been able to see their son, Gideon, grow into a fine (and ridiculously tall) young man. All the plans they had – to travel, to see the world. They had saved their money for ten years so that Belle could work only part-time and Finn could open that antique shop he'd dreamt about.

She still remembered that night as if it were yesterday. She remembered the officers coming to her house. She remembered her son breaking down in tears. She remembered going to the hospital to identify him. She saw him lying there – still. Cold. Lifeless.

So how could this be? How could this possibly be him? He wouldn't have done this – he wouldn't have faked his death and stayed away from her – from their SON – for eight years. Even if he had no choice but to take on some deep undercover case – he'd have found a way to tell her. He would never put his family through anything like that.

Belle looked over the patient's chart. He came into the emergency room unconscious and badly beaten. He suffered a concussion, a ruptured spleen, broken ribs, and a collapsed lung that required him to be intubated for at least twenty-four hours. He was covered in cuts and bruises, and his right ankle was broken, which made Belle wonder if he fought back, and caused that injury himself through tripping, since the bulk of his injuries were to his upper body. The doctors set the ankle in a cast, but he would eventually need surgery on that as well. That would have to wait until he was at least stable from the rest of his injuries. It was going to be a long and difficult recovery for a man who had no family there for him.

Belle watched the monitors as they indicated that despite his injuries, he was alive, and he was fighting. Tears flowing down her face, Belle took the man's hand and mentally allowed herself to go back in time – to that day she wished had never happened. She allowed herself to pretend that it really was him lying there. At least this time, he was alive. At least this time, there was a real chance that he would come back to her.

Chapter Text

Belle spent most of the weekend sitting with the man; his vitals were improving, but he still hadn't awakened. She knew she couldn't stay there forever – her son was going to be back on Monday morning, and he would wonder why she was spending so much time at the hospital when she wasn't scheduled to work. On Sunday afternoon, his breathing tube was removed, and he was breathing well on his own. "I wish you would wake up," Belle whispered as she held his hand. "I just want to know if it's you – I want to hear your voice. I don't care what happened, I don't care why you had to do what you did – just please come back to me, Finn." Belle sniffed back her tears, and was still holding his hand when she felt it move. "Finn?" Belle looked up and saw his eyes blink open, and once he was able to focus, he turned and looked at Belle. His heart began to race, and the monitors in the room began to beep frantically. "It's – it's okay, you're okay, you're safe," Belle said, trying to calm him down as he moved to sit up. Belle gently pushed him back. "Hey – you're alright. You're in the hospital, you were hurt bad but you'll be alright." The man began to calm down, and looked like he wanted to speak, but he struggled in doing so. "Does your throat hurt?" Belle asked, and he nodded. He looked scared, and all she wanted to do was take him into her arms and tell him that everything would be alright. "I'm going to go get some ice chips, alright? I'll be right back, I promise." Belle darted out of the room and returned barely a minute later with a cup of ice chips and a spoon. "Here – let's sit you up just a bit." Belle helped him adjust his bed; he winced in pain as she did this. "It's okay – I know it must hurt, it's alright. You'll get better, I promise. Here – this will help your throat quite a bit." Belle fed him the ice chips slowly. "Better?" He nodded. Hoping he could now talk, she knew she had to ask him a question she had been dreading. "Can you tell me you name." The man was silent for a moment, then spoke up in a soft, raspy voice.

"I – I don't know." Belle could barely catch her breath when he spoke, as she detected a hint of a Scottish brogue in his strained words.

"You don't know your name?"

"I – I don't remember." A million thoughts went through her mind – it could be him. It really could be him. She had to temper her excitement for the time being – the man was frightened, and hurt, and in no condition to find out that the doctor treating him may very well be his wife, who had thought him dead for eight years.

"It – it's okay. You have a concussion. Memory loss happens sometimes, but it usually comes back as you recover. I'm – I'm Dr. Belle Weaver. You can call me Belle if you'd like."

"Everything hurts," he whimpered.

"I know – I can get you something to help with the pain, do you want that?" The man nodded his head yes. "Okay – I'll be right back." Belle left the room once again and came back with a syringe. "This will probably make you sleepy, but that's okay. You should be resting right now."

"What happened to me?"

"Shhh. You should be a bit stronger tomorrow, we can talk more then." Belle injected the medicine into his IV, and within moments the man sighed and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep. Belle took his hand as he slept and tried not to think about the way he looked at her. His eyes – they were the eyes of her husband. His voice, although weak, was the voice of her husband. Belle knew that this wasn't possible, but she didn't care. Her husband had come home – she didn't care how, or if it made sense or not. It would all make sense in time – she would make sure of it.

Chapter Text

"Anything exciting happen this weekend?" Gideon asked his mother over breakfast. How could she tell him? She couldn't tell him anything yet.

"Um – a patient came in this weekend. He was beaten up pretty bad, and – he woke up yesterday. He doesn't remember his name or what happened to him, and there was no identification on him."

"Oh, that's sad. Who will take care of him?"

"Well, I um – I agreed to be his attending for now, so – I suppose it'll be me. You better get going, you'll be late for your first class."

"Mom, it's no big deal if I skip a class every once in a while," Gideon said, rolling his eyes at her.

"Yes, it is a big deal. This is your second year in college, you need to have better study habits. Your father would be appalled if he heard you say something like that."

"I'm pretty sure that Papa wouldn't have cared if I missed a couple of boring history classes."

"History is NOT boring. Now go on, go – Gideon, you can't afford to lose your scholarship, you need to keep your grades up."

"My grades are good."

"They could be better and you know it."

"Alright, whatever. You working tonight?"

"It all depends on this patient. If I won't be home for dinner I'll text you."

"Okay. Bye Mom." Gideon picked up his backpack, then bolted out of the room. Belle smiled a bit. Her husband's death was hard on her, but it was even harder on her son. Gideon was only twelve years old when he lost his father. The young boy worshipped the man – they did everything together. Belle always had to be the disciplinarian in the family, because Finn let Gideon get away with just about anything. And he was right – Finn not only would have been fine with him skipping an early morning class, he probably would have encouraged it. For the past eight years, Belle had to be both mother and father to their son. Sometimes she felt that she was too hard on him. It was difficult to balance raising a teenage boy and work and keeping house. But maybe that was about to change. Belle tried not to get her hopes up about this man – but at the same time, she wanted desperately for him to be the love of her life come back to them.

Belle heard a loud commotion coming from the room as she approached it, and entered to find a nurse standing over the man, who was fighting her off and screaming at her. "Don't touch me! Let me go, I need to get out of here, let me go!" the man screamed. His monitors weren't reacting at all, and Belle immediately noticed that his IV had been pulled out of his arm.

"What's going on here? Stop it!" Belle shouted as she pushed the nurse away.

"He woke up and started going crazy, pulled out his IV."

"Hey – it's okay, you need to settle down, please. No one will hurt you, I promise," Belle said to him, and the man started to settle down a bit. "Do you remember me? I was here yesterday, I gave you some ice chips, do you remember?" He nodded his head yes, then leaned back and sighed. Belle looked up at the nurse. "Go get me another IV kit, please."

"Please – just let me go, please," the man begged, tears forming in his eyes.

"Go where? You have a broken ankle, that you need surgery on, but we couldn't do that until you recovered from your other injuries. You're still recovering from another surgery, you can't go anywhere. I know you're frightened, alright? I know that. But you're going to be okay. You're already much better than you were when you came in here." The nurse arrived with the IV kit and handed it to Belle. "Thank you. You can go, I can handle this." The nurse left the room, and Belle took his hand. "Alright, let's find a vein." Belle looked his arm over. "There's one – you've got good veins, this won't even hurt a bit." Belle threaded the needle into his arm. The man winced for a moment, then breathed a sigh of relief. Belle finished getting the IV in, then began to check his vitals. "How is the pain?"

"My chest hurts."

"You have some broken ribs and a punctured lung. It'll hurt for a bit. You also had to have your spleen removed, and you've got quite a few cuts and bruises. And then there's that broken ankle – we have it temporarily set but once your vitals are good, we'll need to have an ortho doctor do surgery to put some plates in there, one of the bones is shattered and it won't heal right if we don't do that. Have you had anything to eat?" He shook his head no. "Alright. I'm going to order you something. I want you on a solid liquid diet for today, maybe we can start introducing soft food tomorrow. Is there anything you like?"

"I don't know," he whined.

"You don't remember anything yet?"

"I – I don't know who I am, I don't know where I am, I don't want to be here, I can't be here."

"It's – it's okay, I know you're scared. I'd be scared too, but I'll help you, I promise. Do you trust me?"

"I – I think so."

"Do you remember my name?"

"Doctor – Doctor Weaver."

"That's right. You can call me Belle if you like, you remember I told you that?" He nodded yes. "I promise you – I will help you. I'll help you remember who you are." Belle opened the night stand drawer and took out a pen and a piece of paper and wrote something down. "Here – you have a phone right there. If you need anything, if anything or anyone upsets you and I'm not here, you call me, this is my personal cell phone number. It doesn't matter what time of day or night, you just call me, alright?"

"Okay."

"I'm going to go get that food I promised you. I'll be right back, do you think you can stay calm until I get back?" He nodded yes, and Belle smiled at him and left the room. As soon as she closed the door behind her, she leaned against it and fought back tears. His voice. It was his voice. He was speaking clearly now, and it was his voice. What was she going to tell her son?

"You're serious?" Roni asked as she poured Belle a drink at the bar.

"I know – it's crazy, right?" Belle took a long swig of her drink. "How on earth can it be him?"

"You know – supposedly we all have a double out there. Wouldn't that be something. Can you imagine another me running around out there somewhere?"

"I can, and it's not a pleasant thought at all," Belle teased, then she took another drink.

"Oh, I don't know – maybe she's an evil twin."

"Maybe you're the evil twin," Belle joked, and Roni made a face at her.

"Can you imagine what another version of me would be like?"

"Roni, you're not helping here."

"Sorry. I'm just saying – it's not out of the realm of possibility for Finn to have a double out there."

"Okay – but how do you explain the fact that he has a Scottish accent? What are the odds of THAT?"

"How does he have a Scottish accent if he can't remember anything?"

"It's – complicated. The brain is an odd thing – even without memory there are certain instincts – language, vocal tone – there are lots of studies out there on patients with memory loss. There is no definite pattern of anything. Roni, I know what my husband looks like, I know every inch of him. I know his voice, his eyes, his hands – it's him."

"Then where the hell has he been for eight years? And how do you explain the fact that you actually SAW HIM in the morgue?"

"I don't know."

"What are you gonna tell him?"

"I – I want to give him some time, see if he remembers."

"Maybe he's faking."

"He wouldn't do that."

"You didn't think he'd leave you and Gideon to fend for yourselves for eight years, and apparently he did THAT."

"There's more to it. There has to be, I just – I just have to figure it all out somehow. And I will figure it out. I have to get back to the hospital." Belle finished her drink and left, passing a young man in the doorway on her way out. Roni looked up at the man – he'd come to town not too long ago, said his name was Henry Mills. Roni couldn't help but notice something familiar about him . . . . . .

Chapter Text

One week later . . . . . . . .

"Hi," Belle said as she entered his room, carrying a bag. His health had improved quite a bit in the past week. He was moved out of ICU and into a private room, which Belle arranged, early in the week. By the middle of the week the doctors felt he was strong enough to endure the surgery on his ankle, and that had been done as well. He was able to eat solid foods and move in and out of bed with help from a nurse or doctor in attendance. Belle realized that he would be well enough to be released in a few days. Despite all of his physical recovery, his memory had not returned. Belle realized that she needed to talk with him about everything. "How are you feeling today?"

"Better," he replied.

"I brought you some more books to read," Belle said as she took several books out of the bag she was carrying and set them on his nightstand.

"Do you have a whole library at home?"

"I'm a pretty avid reader. My husband used to tease me that I was the only woman he knew that had more books than clothes." Belle sat down in the chair next to the bed.

"You're married then?"

"I – my husband – he – he was a police officer. He was killed eight years ago in the line of duty."

"I'm very sorry."

"I – I need to tell you something, and – I don't know how you're going to take it."

"I know I'm getting better – but if you have to release me from here, I don't know where to go."

"No, it's not that I – I haven't been totally honest with you. You – my husband was a detective, and he would go undercover for work quite a bit. Sometimes he'd be gone for a couple of months. He couldn't always tell me what he was doing or where he was going. But he always came back. I need to show you something, and – I didn't want to show you until you got stronger, I didn't want to upset you." Belle took one more thing out of the bag she came into the room with – it was a photograph. She showed it to him. "This is me – and my son – and my husband." He stared at the photo for several minutes, then looked up at her.

"Is this some kind of a joke?"

"No, it's not a joke – it's real. I don't know how you're here, I don't know –"

"This – what are you saying, that this is me? How long ago was this taken?"

"Ten years ago."

"Well, I barely look any different than that man. Surely I would have aged after ten years."

"He was Scottish. You have his voice, you have his eyes, his hands – I know my husband when I see him." Belle fought back tears.

"What about the boy? Who is he?"

"Gideon. My son. YOUR son. Your name is Finlay Weaver, everyone calls you Finn, except everyone at the police department, they just called you Weaver." He looked at the photo once again, then handed it back to Belle. "I want to do a test. A DNA test, with you and Gideon. That'll prove that you're him."

"No," he replied.

"I – what do you mean no?"

"I don't know who I am – but I know I'm not this man, I can't be this man. And I want you to leave."

"Finn – please, I –"

"That is NOT MY NAME!" he shouted at her. He picked up one of the books she brought him and threw it against the wall. "Get out!"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Belle whimpered as she left the room.

"Mom, what's going on?" Gideon asked. He came home from class to find Belle sitting in the dark in the living room, curled up on the sofa, crying. Belle looked up at her son.

"I – I don't even know how to tell you this."

"Is this about this patient you've been treating? You never get this obsessive, and you've been at the hospital every day, even on your days off. Who is this person?" Gideon sat down next to her, and Belle hesitated for a moment.

"He's your father," she said in a whisper of a voice.

"Mom – Papa has been dead for eight years."

"I don't know how this is possible, Gideon, but this man – he looks like your father. He talks like your father. He has no memory of who he is or what happened to him and today I told him and – he didn't handle it well at all."

"Mom, I know you miss Papa – maybe this guy resembles him, maybe you just think he –"

"He doesn't just resemble him! I know what your father looks like, do you think I'd be reacting like this over someone who just kind of looked like him?" Belle screamed her words at him, and Gideon gasped in shock. His mother was always very calm and level headed and he could count on one hand the amount of times she raised her voice in anger at him, and even then she was never this intense. Belle's cell phone rang before Gideon could respond to her tirade. "This is Doctor Weaver. What? When? He isn't even supposed to be walking, how did that happen? No, just keep looking, he can't have gone far." Belle hung up her phone.

"Mom, what is it?"

"He's gone. Your father – he's not in his room, he's gone. I have to go to the hospital."

"I'm going with you, you're not driving like this."

"Gideon, I can manage."

"Mom, if this is really Papa I have just as much of a right to be there as you do!" Not sure if he was sincere or simply humoring her, Belle complied.

"Alright. Let's go."

Roni was on her way home from work. She hated driving past the troll bridge. Every time she saw it, all she could think about was this was the place that Finn died. This is where her best friend lost her husband. Or did she? Was this guy really Finn Weaver? Honestly, if this turned out to be him, and he left Belle and Gideon for eight years, Roni thought she might have to kill him for real this time. Roni barely got past the bridge when a figure came out of nowhere. She swerved just in time to miss the person. Her car skidded to a stop, and the person leaned against the giant troll figure, catching their breath, obviously in distress. Roni took out her phone and dialed 9-1-1. "Hi, yeah – there's a guy at the troll bridge, at least I think it's a guy, I almost hit him with my car. I don't know, I think they're sick or something. Alright fine. Thank you." Roni sighed as she hung up the phone. There was a police car not far from here – the operator told her to try and talk to them, keep them there. Great. If there was one thing Roni was NOT, it was a good Samaritan. "Why me?" she said to herself as she got out of the car. They were dressed in what looked like a hospital gown. "Hey – you okay? What were you trying to do, get yourself killed, and me along with you?" The person looked up, and Roni gasped in shock. "Oh my god. Finn?"

"Hey," Roni said as she entered the emergency room, where Belle and Gideon were waiting. "Where's he at, is he okay?"

"I don't know – they told me I had to wait out here, said I was too emotionally attached to the situation," Belle said.

"Well, they're probably right. Belle – you're right it – it looks so much like him, but – when the cops got there, he just lost it, started lashing out at them, you could tell he was in pain – then the ambulance got there and they had to sedate him. Belle, whoever that guy is, that's not the Finn Weaver that you and I know."

"I wish I knew what happened to him," Belle said. "Why would he run away like that? Who does that?"

"Belle, you need to find out if that's really him."

"He didn't give his permission to run a DNA test," Belle said.

"I don't care. He's sedated, he doesn't get a vote. Belle – stop playing by the rules, this is not the time to do that. If that guy is Finn – I don't know what happened to him, but he's been through some serious hell and you have to find a way to help him deal with it. And if it's not – well then it's not your problem."

"I'm a doctor, and he's a human being who's hurting. It is my problem, no matter who he is."

"Mom – Roni is right," Gideon chimed in. "We need to know if this is Papa or not. I want to take the test. If you won't do it, I'll find someone who will."

"Listen to him, Belle – he sounds just like his father," Roni said. Belle sighed in defeat.

"Alright. Once he's settled in his room – I'll do the test."

Chapter Text

Despite his several hour excursion outside of the hospital, the patient didn't injure himself much further aside from a few additional cuts and bruises. The cast on his broken leg kept it well protected, and his other injuries had healed well enough before he bolted. Belle was amazed that he traveled as far as he did before pain and exhaustion set in. Why did he go to the troll bridge? Why there, of all places? Several doctors wanted him restrained, but Belle argued with them. She agreed to take full responsibility for him with the caveat that he would undergo a full psychiatric evaluation once he was awake and lucid. Gideon sat with her in his room the night prior; he was quiet, and kept staring at the man, unsure what to think or say or even feel at the moment.

Gideon tried to talk his mother into going home, but she insisted on staying with him all night. Not wanting to argue with her, Gideon went home on his own. Belle sat with the man all evening, dozing off in her chair intermittently through the night. It was almost noon when she was awakened by his pained groans as he awoke from his sedation. "Hey – it's okay, you – you're alright." Belle took his hand, and he immediately yanked it away.

"Why am I here? I need to get out of here, why did you bring me back here?" he screamed. He sat up and winced in pain.

"Finn, please settle down," Belle begged. She reached out to touch him, and he pulled away.

"That's not my name, stop calling me that! Don't touch me!"

"Okay – okay, I won't touch you." Belle stood up and backed away from his bed. "Look – this is me not touching you, but you have to settle down, you're not well enough to be out of bed and you're very lucky that you didn't have a serious relapse after running away like you did. I want to help you, I promise, I just want to help you." He started to settle down, and Belle continued to talk. "Look – the other doctors, they wanted to restrain you last night. I wouldn't let them. I told them I'd take full responsibility for you but I wouldn't let them do that. I would never let them do that to you." He settled down a bit, and Belle moved a little closer to his bed but didn't sit down. "Are you hungry?" He nodded yes. "If I go get you something to eat, will you promise me that you're not going to go anywhere?" He nodded yes again. "Alright – what would you like?"

"Maybe – ham sandwich would be nice. With swiss cheese. Lettuce and tomato, no mayo."

"Okay. There's a nice deli in the hospital, I'll go get that for you, and I'll be right back, and you'll be here, right? If you run again, I won't have any say regarding what happens to you and I don't want that. You understand?"

"I promise."

"Okay. You want anything to drink?"

"Iced tea. No sweetener."

"Of course. You just rest. I'll be right back." Belle left the room and didn't know whether to smile or cry. Ham and cheese, unsweetened iced tea – Finn's favorite go-to lunch when he was on a stakeout. She delivered it to him many times. If this wasn't her husband, then who was he?

Belle came back into his room about thirty minutes later, and he was sitting up in the bed waiting for her as he had promised. "Sorry it took so long, there was a line. I want to help you get your tray set up, is that alright?"

"Okay," he whispered.

"I got some chips too, barbecue. They're your – I mean, I like them, I thought you might as well."

"Thank you." Belle set up his food tray and spread out his meal for him. He ate his food in silence, and Belle stood across from him, not wanting to sit down and upset him again.

"Why did you run?" she asked after he was almost finished eating.

"I don't know. I – I just didn't want to be here. I still don't."

"Nobody likes the hospital. But you need to get well, and this is the best place for that. I wish I knew how to help you. The other doctors, they – they want to do a full psych evaluation on you."

"You think I'm crazy?"

"No. I think you're scared, and confused, and you don't know who to trust. I understand that. I promise you – if I woke up in a strange place with no memory of who I was and had some stranger telling me that I was married to them, I'd probably be terrified." He shifted a bit in his bed, then cringed in pain and let out a small whimper. "What's wrong?"

"Just – it hurts." He looked down toward the area where his surgical incision was.

"Can I look? I'll be very careful, alright?" He nodded his head yes. Belle moved away his tray and pulled back the sheets, then his hospital gown. She pulled back the bandage that covered his incision. The incision was red and swollen. "It looks like you have a minor infection in your incision area. I'm going to order some medicine for that, is that alright? One will be topical, and one will be an antibiotic that I'll have to inject into your IV. I don't want you to get sepsis, I want this taken care of now. Okay?"

"I'm sorry. I did this, I'm so sorry." He started to cry.

"It's okay. We'll fix it, it's okay." Belle left the room and came back with the medication she needed. She rebandaged his wound and got him settled down once he was given some medication, including more medication to help him with the pain. "I think I need to let you rest for a bit. I'm going to go home and change but I'll be back." He was already half asleep, and she knew he'd sleep soundly for several hours.

When Belle returned to the hospital, he was sitting up in bed, looking at a magazine. "Hey, where'd you get that?"

"Some hospital volunteer brought it." He put the magazine aside and looked up at her. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"You've been nothing but kind to me and I – I just don't know how to process all of this."

"I'm having a difficult time managing that myself."

"Maybe – maybe you should do that DNA test then. With your son." Belle made a face, then sat down in the chair next to his bed.

"I – I kind of already did. I'm sorry, I know I didn't have your permission, but my son insisted, and if I didn't do it he was going to find some way to get it done, a way that could possibly have gotten him into trouble, and I knew there was no stopping him, once he gets an idea in his head, he'll just go off and do it, he's just like –" Belle stopped herself.

"Just like what?"

"Just like his father." Silence filled the room for several minutes. "Are you mad at me?"

"I really can't be, can I? A man shows up with the face of your dead husband and no memory – I'm surprised you didn't do the test immediately. When will you know the results?"

"Some time this evening, I think. You seem better now. Calmer."

"Probably the pain killers," he joked. Belle smiled at him.

"Finn, he – he never liked being sick. About a year after we got married he had to have his appendix removed, he was just such a terrible, terrible patient. And I was just an intern, and honestly he was worse than the random people I had to deal with in emergency."

"I just – I don't know why but – I don't like this. Being here, I feel – I feel trapped. And I feel like I've been – like I've been trapped before. I shouldn't have taken it out on you though."

"Look – if you're my husband – we'll figure out what happened to you and why you can't remember. And if you're not – well, we'll still do that. Together." Belle was about to reach for his hand when the door opened.

"Mom, are you – you're awake," Gideon said as he entered the room, holding an envelope in his hand. He eyed the man who looked like his father but said nothing.

"Gideon!" Belle smiled at her patient. "This is our – I mean – this is Gideon, my son." Gideon handed her the envelope. "Are those the test results?" Gideon nodded, but said nothing. Belle opened the envelope and looked at the paper inside, then glanced at both men.

"Well?" Gideon asked. Belle began to cry.

"It's positive." Belle looked at the man she now knew was her husband. "This is your son."

"I – I don't know what to say," Finn Weaver said, staring at the young man. Gideon grabbed the paper from his mother and looked at it.

"I do," Gideon said, and he threw the paper at Weaver. "You left me. You left my MOTHER! You can go to hell." Gideon stormed out of the room.

"Gideon! Gideon, wait!" Belle shouted, and she followed him, chasing him down the hall. She stopped him at the elevator. "Gideon – we don't know what happened to him, we don't know anything. Give him a chance. He's your father, you love your father."

"I loved who I thought my father was. That guy? I don't give a damn about him. You do what you want. If you bring him home – I'm moving out." The elevator door opened, and Gideon stepped in and left Belle standing in the hallway, tears streaming down her face.

Chapter Text

One week later . . . . . .

"There. You comfortable?" Belle asked as she helped her husband get settled on the sofa. After the revelation of the DNA test, she and Weaver spent a great deal of time talking, both with one another and with a staff member from the psychiatric unit of the hospital. They determined that he suffered from some sort of subconscious traumatic anxiety reaction to whatever happened to him in the past that he had no memory of. The more they talked, the more comfortable that Weaver became with Belle and with the reality of who he was, with or without his memory intact.

During this time, Belle attempted to reason with Gideon, but he refused to listen. As far as Gideon was concerned, his father left him and his mother eight years ago and any excuse why wasn't acceptable, nor was his return.

"Where's the boy?" Weaver asked.

"He um – he's staying with a friend." Weaver let out a loud sigh. "He'll come around."

"I'd be angry too if I were him, I suppose. Can't be easy to find out that your father abandoned you."

"You didn't abandon him."

"You don't know that." Belle sat down on the edge of the sofa and took his hand.

"No – I do know that. Something happened. Something that you couldn't control. And when you finally got away – whoever did this - they tried to hurt you. And you fought. Because you're brave. And you made your way back to us."

"I wish I could remember."

"Maybe being home will help you. Is anything about this place familiar?"

"Not that I can tell."

"We moved in when Gideon was three. We were living in an apartment up until then, but – I got a residency at the hospital and you were promoted to detective and we could finally afford a house. We were actually talking about doing some renovating when you – well, I just never got around to it afterward."

"I'm sure you were busy." Belle wanted to kiss him. She desperately wanted to kiss him. But he was still a bit wary and nervous and she didn't want to push him. She got him to agree to come home with her – one step at a time, she reminded herself.

"Would you like some tea?"

"That would be nice," he replied.

"I'll go make it, I'll be right back." Belle left the room and came back with a tray that held a small tea set with two teacups. "This – this is your favorite tea, we used to drink it every day, it's my mother's recipe." Belle handed him a teacup, and he couldn't help but notice a small chip in the little blue painted cup.

"It's broken. The cup."

"It's just a little chip, you can barely see it. You bought this little tea set at an antique store and clumsy me, I dropped that little cup the first day we used it. We were only dating for a few weeks, and I thought you were going to dump me right then for breaking one of your things. You've always liked antiques, I think I told you that." Weaver looked at the teacup and the more he stared at it, the more Belle's voice became nothing but noisy gibberish as she spoke. A sudden memory flash caused him to drop the teacup onto the floor, spilling its contents all over the carpet. Belle gasped as she watched the cup fall onto the floor, then looked at her husband with worry as she saw him staring blankly ahead, as if in shock.

"Finn? Are you alright?" Belle asked.

"I – I remember," he whispered, not looking at her.

"You remember? Oh – oh sweetheart, you remember me?" Belle excitedly hugged him, and was stunned when he pushed her away.

"I'm not your husband."

"What – what are you talking about? We did a test, of course you are."

"My name is Mr. Gold. I own a pawn shop in Maine, in a little town called Storybrooke."

"Maine? Finn, we've never even been to Maine."

"And you – you look just like her."

"Finn what are you talking about?"

"I'm not Finn! My name is Mr. Gold. That – that friend of yours, the one that found me at the troll bridge, the one you brought to meet me. She's the mayor. And you – you were my maid. And I loved you. And you died."

"Storybrooke? Belle. Come on." Roni and Belle sat in the kitchen at Belle's house. Belle gave her husband some medicine to help him sleep while she pondered what he said to her.

"He said you were the mayor." Roni laughed a bit.

"Right. Can you see me as a mayor?"

"Can you see me as a MAID?" Roni looked around the kitchen, which was not a total mess but wasn't neatly kept, either.

"Not a very good one."

"Roni, what am I going to do? He insists that he's this Mr. Gold person. But he doesn't remember having a first name. But my name was still Belle and you were – Regina."

"Regina, huh? Doesn't that mean 'queen'? I like it. Who was Gideon?"

"He wasn't there. Regina, he was fine, we were getting on and he was getting used to me and I made him some tea and then – I don't know, some switch flipped in him or something. I finally convinced him that he really needed to rest and gave him some medicine but – Roni, I looked on the internet, there is no such place as Storybrooke, Maine anywhere!"

"You want my theory? Obviously, whatever happened to him in the past eight years was some kind of traumatic hell, and he created some fantasy world in his head to survive it, and somehow that memory got triggered when you brought him home."

"But why Maine? And why wasn't Gideon there? And why was I DEAD? And why were YOU there?"

"Hey – Finn and I were good friends when he wasn't annoying the hell out of me." Belle rolled her eyes.

"I don't know what I'm going to tell Gideon. He's not handling any of this well, this will just make it worse."

"Well can you blame the kid? He doesn't understand why his father left him. And he's got his father's attitude, he's not as forgiving as you are."

"I've got to find a way to make sense out of all of this. And I will – I promise you, I will."

Three days later . . . .

"Nothing?" Belle asked as they sat on the sofa leafing through old photo albums. "This is the last one, you've seen all the pictures."

"Belle, I told you – I don't remember being this man. My name is Mr. Gold, and I live in Storybrooke, Maine. I own a pawn shop."

"There is no Storybrooke, Maine, there is no Mr. Gold's Pawn Shop! Finn, I even had the police look into it, there's no such place!"

"Then why do I remember it? Why do I remember you being – not you?" He took the book and put it on the coffee table. "Why do I remember the teacup?" Belle took his hand.

"Finn – I think we need to make an appointment with that counselor."

"I am not crazy. I know who I am and I know who you are and I know that none of this is real."

"Then what about Gideon? He's real!" Belle shouted. "He's your son! And you know what else is real? This is real." Belle moved in and kissed him on the lips. They shared a deep, passionate kiss, and they were both filled with a burst of energy that took their breath away.

"Rumple?" Belle whispered.

"Belle. Oh, my beautiful Belle." They kissed again, wrapping their arms around one another until finally Rumpelstiltskin winced in pain. Belle immediately pulled away from him.

"Rumple – oh, you're hurt, I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking. I know you tried to stop the curse, I didn't think you'd be this badly hurt."

"It's okay. I'll be alright. I have a good doctor." Belle smiled at him.

"What am I supposed to do with doctor knowledge? How long do you think we've been here? A few months?"

"Definitely not eight years. Someone went to a lot of trouble to make us think that, though." Rumpelstiltskin grimaced in pain once again.

"Come on, lie down. You still need to rest, you still have healing to do and we don't have magic here." Rumpelstiltskin did as he was told. "When you said that you made it so that the teacup would trigger your memories, I didn't think they'd be your memories as Mr. Gold!"

"Apparently the curse was stronger than I thought. Just not strong enough to stop True Love's Kiss." Belle leaned over and kissed him again. As they were kissing, the front door opened. Gideon made a face at them, and Belle sat up and turned around.

"Gideon!" Belle shouted. "Oh, come here, my sweet boy!" Belle stood up and moved toward.

"Mom, I just came to get some more of my things, I told you I'm not staying here with—" Gideon was interrupted by his mother pulling him close, standing on her toes and kissing him on the cheek. Gideon gasped, then looked at his mother. "Mother?" Gideon then turned and looked at his father, who was lying on the sofa and smiling at him. "Papa?" Gideon sat down on the sofa next to him and gave him a hug. Rumpelstiltskin winced a bit.

"Careful Gideon, he's still really sore," Belle reminded him.

"Oh Papa, you were hurt so bad – and I was so terrible to you. I'm so sorry, Papa." Gideon began to cry, and his father reached up and wiped his tears away.

"It's alright. It's not your fault. And I'm alright – I just need to heal a bit more and we are going to fight this curse and help the others remember who they are."

"Because that's what heroes do?" Gideon asked.

"Yes. That's what heroes do," his father replied.

"I'm gonna go get my stuff and move back in. I was so mean, I'm so sorry, Papa."

"You thought I was a deadbeat father who abandoned you. I understand that very well, I'd have been just as angry."

"Can I – can I keep going to school until we figure out this curse? I do like my classes."

"Of course you can," Belle said. "Go get your things from your friend's house, we have a lot of planning to do." Gideon gave his father one more very gentle hug, then he left. Belle sat down next to Rumpelstiltskin. "Do you think we should ever tell him about – you know – what happened when he was born?"

"Maybe when he's about sixty. He's too sensitive, it would break his heart. This curse is bad enough for him to manage." Rumpelstiltskin closed his eyes and sighed, and Belle gave him a kiss on the forehead.

"You want something for the pain?"

"I'll manage," he whispered, opening his eyes again. "So how do you think Regina will like that tattoo of hers?" Belle laughed a bit.

"I think the first thing she'll do when we get magic back is make that disappear." He snickered a bit, then groaned in pain.

"You know, I think maybe I will take you up on that painkiller offer."

"Maybe we should get you to the bedroom, you'll be more comfortable there."

"I'm fine right here for now." Belle got up from the sofa and left the room, then came back with a glass of water and a pill.

"Here, this will help quite a bit." Rumpelstiltskin sat up a bit and took the medicine.

"So – Doctor Belle – how long until I'm fully recovered from this?"

"Well, if you do everything you're told – you should feel much better in a couple of weeks. You might still need the cane when the cast comes off your ankle, I'm not sure."

"Just like old times." Belle carefully scooted onto the sofa and allowed her husband to rest his head on her shoulder. She played with his hair a bit.

"I like that your hair is growing out again."

"You always liked it longer, didn't you?" Rumpelstiltskin yawned. "I'm sorry sweetheart – I know we just woke up but I'm getting very tired. We'll talk more later."

"Alright. You rest." Belle continued to play with his hair as he fell asleep in her arms, thinking about all the people that were affected by this latest curse, and what they could do to help them. Belle felt a bit guilty as she thought about the travels she wanted to continue once the curse was completely broken. Those plans would have to be put on hold for now. There would be time for that later. There would be time for everything.