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The library - his first port of call in looking for his True Love after stepping off of that rickety pea-pod of a boat - is empty, gutted, and the place that had been Belle’s seems like it is no longer. Rumplestiltskin stares around the vast foyer, finding one lonely stack empty of books in the farthest corner, and knows that Belle would never have let this happen.
This is how he comes to the conclusion that something is wrong.
A noise makes him turn, and lo and behold there she is, Belle, standing in the doorway in that same blue coat. She looks like Belle, sounds like Belle when she gasps and runs towards him, and yet, if this has happened to the library…how can she be?
Rumplestiltskin grunts as Belle throws herself into his arms. He staggers back a step, his cane thumping against his leg, and he can’t help but voice his wheedling little thoughts, no matter how soft or how fragrant or how lovely she is in his arms. He’s been fooled too many times.
“What’s wrong?” His voice is too small, but he soldiers on. “What…happened?”
He braces himself, but all he receives is Belle’s tear-stained face and bright blue eyes. She gazes up at him as if she doesn’t understand, before glancing about them.
“The library?” Her voice is low and husky, her brow furrowed. “It’s being remodelled. I wanted to make it even better.”
Rumplestiltskin buries thoughts of curses and magic with heat sweeping across his cheeks, and he gives Belle the greeting he should have from the beginning, without his suspicion and his adventurous journeying colouring their reunion, sweeping her into his arms and kissing her senseless.