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It was a rather blustery Tuesday morning when Belle approached the pawnshop, readying herself for another day of working among the antiques, trying not to see Rumpelstiltskin’s face everywhere she looked.
She stopped short when she saw the flowers sitting in front of the shop’s front door.
The bouquet of roses looked innocuous enough, but with Ursula and Cruella skulking around town, Belle wasn’t taking any chances. She looked around the street quickly, trying to see if either of the two witches was lurking in any of the dark alleyways.
Though she didn’t see anyone, Belle still inched forward slowly and nudged the bouquet with the toe of her maroon heels.
The flowers didn’t explode or magically transport her to a dungeon, so she bent down and cautiously picked them up. She unlocked the shop quickly and stepped inside.
She didn’t see Rumpelstiltskin watching her from an upstairs window across the street.
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Belle laid the flowers on the counter, unwrapping them and smelling the sweet scent of the roses. She smiled as she exhaled, before a frown crossed her face.
Rumpelstiltskin had always given her roses, she thought sadly. Most often he would give her a single bloom, a reminder of the first rose he had given her in the Dark Castle so many years ago.
She wouldn’t be receiving any more roses from him, Belle realized. Her husband was gone and it had been by her command. She didn’t regret stopping him from unleashing the power of the hat.
But in her quieter moments, when she wasn’t helping the others with research or trying to keep both the pawnshop and the library running, she often wondered if banishing him had been a mistake.
It had been the right thing to do, she knew. But if she had to live the rest of her life without ever seeing him again or knowing if he was alright, she sometimes wished she hadn’t been so quick to do the right thing.
As she laid the flowers back down on the counter, she noticed a folded piece of paper sticking out from the bouquet.
“From your secret admirer,” Belle read out loud. She turned the note over, hoping there was another clue to where her flowers had come from, but there was nothing else written on the paper.
The bell above the front door jingled and she turned to see Will Scarlet walk in with their morning coffees from Granny’s. Ever since Belle had hired him to assist her with the shop – giving her at least some time to devote to the library as well – they had fallen into an easy rhythm. She would open the shop and figure out their project for the day, which most often than not was sorting through, researching, and cataloguing the enormous amount of items in the store. Will would come in shortly later, coffees in hand, and they would begin whatever tasks she had set for them that day.
Though she had helped Rumple with the shop and even ran it herself when he had been Zelena’s prisoner, she still knew only a fraction of the stories and secrets the items there held. Belle knew there would come a time when they’d need to use some of these magical items to fight off the next threat that came their way. Though things had been quiet in town since her husband had left, they all knew that the peace wouldn’t hold long. It never did in Storybrooke.
Will walked over towards the counter and set her coffee down in front of her. “Mornin’, Belle.” He took a sip from his own cup before nodding towards the flowers. “Roses, aye?”
She gave him an odd look. “You didn’t by any chance…”
He held up both hands in the air. “Don’t look at me. I’ve seen more than enough roses in my time, thank you very much.” He took another sip and then grimaced. “I think Granny put too much sugar in me coffee.”
Belle smiled at him sadly. She had gotten to know Will pretty well over the past month they’d worked together. He had a habit of changing conversations quickly when they came too close to Ana. She still didn’t know exactly what had happened between the two of them, though she could see he still cared deeply for his True Love.
Perhaps it was why she and Will worked so well together. Neither expected the other to put on a brave face.
After taking a sip of her coffee, Belle quickly found a vase to put her flowers in. As the day wore on, she kept glancing back at the roses, her mind trying to piece together who her mystery admirer could be.
“Archie.”
Belle glanced up from the page she had been reading. “Sorry?”
Will was across the room, dusting off the shelves with an old rag. “Your secret admirer – I think it’s Archie.”
Belle let out a snort. “I really doubt it. Archie cried more at my wedding than me or Rumple.” She tried to push away the conflicting emotions that the memory created, giving Will a weak smile. “It’s not him.”
He nodded and turned back to dusting, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
The rest of the day went by quietly enough. Will left at five, but Belle stayed a bit later. Though she had moved back into the salmon pink house a week ago, she still tried to avoid spending too much time there. The shop was a little safer, as Will was often with her and she could busy herself with different projects. But at home, there was little to do except feel the ghost of Rumple’s presence within every room.
Up until this week, she had been living above the library again and it had provided a bit of a physical barrier to the memories. But she had decided to let Will rent her apartment, since she knew Granny’s rate per night was even more unreasonable than her overpriced lasagna. It also seemed prudent to get Will and Hook away from each other, since the two living down the hall from one another at the inn could only end badly.
Belle was happy to help her new friend. But as she glanced at the clock and wondered how much longer she could put off going home, she couldn’t help wishing she was less kindhearted sometimes.
After the third time her stomach growled, she realized she had delayed long enough.
The night was dark as she made her way out to the Cadillac. She swung the car door open and gasped at the sight before her.
The front seat of the car was practically bursting with flowers. Bouquets of daises, hydrangeas, and tulips met her eyes. She craned her neck to see the backseat where even more flowers were waiting – sunflowers, lilies, and more roses.
The only spot left bare was the driver’s seat, save for a single rose.
Belle picked it up and slid into the seat, her fingers caressing the petals softly. Deep inside her, an answer to her question rose up, but Belle squashed it down.
He was gone, she told herself. It couldn’t be him.
Despite the number of times she reminded herself of that fact on the slow drive home, Belle couldn’t help but feel a tiny flutter of something deep within her chest.
When she finally arrived home, Belle decided to leave the flowers in the car, too hungry to deal with them for the time being. The house was dark as she approached and she fumbled with the lock for a few moments before the door opened. As she stepped inside, she noticed the change immediately, inhaling the fragrance as it encompassed her.
Belle switched the lights on quickly, already knowing what she would see. Flowers covered every available surface of the house, making Belle feel as if she was walking through a greenhouse.
If the flowers in her car were supposed to sweep her off her feet, then the amount here was most likely meant to knock her off them.
Feeling a little dizzy – whether it was from the overpowering scent of the flowers or the realization that she was trying to put off – Belle fumbled for her phone. She needed to know.
Her father picked up on the second ring, sounding slightly bemused himself.
“Hey there, poppet. You’ll never guess what happened to me today.”
Belle swallowed hard. “Did you sell a lot of flowers by any chance?” she asked weakly.
“A lot? I sold them all!” She could practically hear him scratching his head over the phone. “I came back from lunch this afternoon and they were all gone. I would have thought I’d been robbed, but when I checked the computer, I saw that money had been transferred into my account for the sale. Every penny was accounted for.” Only then did he pause for a moment. “How did you know, Belle? Is this one of your magical crowd’s idea of a joke?” He gave a booming laugh. “Because they’re welcome to do it whenever they want!”
“I’ll have to get back to you on that,” Belle said. “Bye, dad.”
Maurice said goodbye, but Belle barely heard it. Her father’s story had confirmed what she had already known to be true deep inside.
Now it seemed obvious to her why she hadn’t been able to think of a single person in town who would be leaving her roses on the shop doorstep. It was because her secret admirer was supposed to be anywhere but Storybrooke.
“Rumpelstiltskin,” she yelled, hoping he would come of his own free will. She still had the dagger, of course, but she didn’t want to ever touch that cursed piece of metal again. “Rumpelstiltskin, Rumpel – ”
“I’m here, Belle.”
The voice came from behind her and she whipped around, staring at the pale face of her husband. Her eyes took him all in, noticing the changes – none of them good. The lines in his face had deepened and he looked as if he hadn’t eaten well while he had been away. His clothes were as impeccable as ever, but his posture lacked the confidence that he had so often exuded. Even when he had come back from Zelena, he had still carried himself well, though Belle had often wondered if it was a show he had put on for her benefit.
But all the posturing was gone now. The man before her looked utterly defeated.
Her heart clenched tightly in her chest and she had to fight the impulse to run to him. She didn’t know what to say, though she had imagined this moment so many times over the last six weeks.
“You’re back,” she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
“Didn’t you think I’d find a way to return?”
“I didn’t think you’d want to,” Belle said, fighting to hold back the tears that threated to fall. “I figured that after what happened, you would have given up on us.”
“No,” he said, his voice cracking. “I haven’t given up.”
She could hear the unspoken question at the end of his statement. Rumple wanted to know if she had given up on them.
If someone had asked her the day before, she would have honestly said she didn’t know. But being near him again, realizing he was just as broken as she was, gave Belle hope that perhaps all wasn’t lost between them. They had so much to talk about, to work through, but for the first time, it seemed possible that maybe they could do it. All she had ever wanted from him was to be chosen, to mean more to him than his magic and his power. Though his flowers could hardly solve the problems in their relationship, the gesture showed that he wanted to fix things between them and was willing to go out of his way to prove it to her.
The tears were falling down her face now, but Belle didn’t care.
“Good. Because I haven’t either.”