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Rumplestiltskin was an observant man. He had to be, as the Dark One. How else could he make deals so attractive to be almost impossible to refuse? He had spent lifetimes honing this skill. He watched everyone carefully and filed things away for future use. His wife was usually an exception to the rule.
Belle had been acting odd all week. Secretive. Cagey. He was determined to find out why. It wasn’t that she was avoiding him. She was beside him in his bed when he fell asleep each night and there when he woke every morning. It was just abundantly clear that something was going on with Belle and she wasn’t filling him in on whatever was going through her head. There was something she was keeping from him. Turnabout was fair play, he supposed, and he had certainly done his share of this secret keeping. Besides that, he was certain Belle’s secret was rather more innocent than his had been.
A simple question of “sweetheart, is something wrong?” this morning had garnered him nothing more than an “of course not!” and a smile. The smile had seemed genuine. She had even kissed his cheek before leaving for the library. At least he assumed it was the library. It could be anywhere in town. He remained perplexed.
He spent the morning idly sifting through a box of mismatched jewelry. He knew where everything in the shop was. He always had. This was still something to keep his hands occupied and soothe his thoughts. He was reasonably certain that whatever Belle was keeping to herself was harmless. He was also an expert at imagining worst case scenarios.
The bell on the door chimed, announcing the entrance of his Belle. “Do we own a camera?” she asked.
That was not a question he’d expected. “Hello to you, too. Film or digital? I’ve plenty of cameras here in the shop but nothing that could be considered modern.”
“Oh, digital! Do we have one at home?”
“I don’t.”
“Oh.” Her face fell.
“Henry has one, I believe?” He hated to see her disappointed. Even over something so slight as this. “I’d wager he would be willing to lend it. Unless your phone will suffice.”
“The phone won’t do. I should have thought of Henry,” Belle admitted. “I’ll text him.” She smiled brightly. “We’re going to lunch now. I’ll text on the way.”
“Lunch?”
“We’re going to Granny’s,” Belle informed him. “I need a break from shelving and you need a break from being in here alone. And I’m hungry.”
“What sort of man argues with his wife when she wants to be seen in public with him? I’ll get my coat.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to be seen in public with you?”
“I can think of any number of reasons, dearest and the residents of this town would, I’m sure, be willing to provide countless others. Nevermind that,” he said. “The musings of a grumpy old man who’s spent too much time alone with his treasures.” He flipped the door sign to “CLOSED” and locked it behind him as they left.
Belle slipped her phone back into her pocket as he took her arm to escort her to the diner.
Lunch was a pleasant affair. Even Mrs. Lucas’s attempts to needle him were mild. He overtipped, on purpose, just to see her reaction as she picked up the bill from the table. “Is there a problem?”
“Hmmpf,” was the only response from the woman.
“I have to get back to the library,” Belle said apologetically, standing. “I’ll see you tonight. I might be late. There’s been a lot to do lately.”
“Might I be of assistance?” He stood when she did, ready to walk to her back to the library.
“No, no. I don’t need help. I just need to focus,” Belle assured him. “And now that I’ve eaten I’ll be able to.”
“As you wish.” Rumplestiltskin nodded. “I will see you tonight.”
***
“Hi Belle!” Henry called out as he entered the library. Belle waved from behind the desk.
“Hi, Henry!”
“I brought my camera. And a cable so you can dump the pictures. That’s easier than messing with the card. Why didn’t you just use your phone for pictures though?” Henry asked.
“I needed something better. The phone was too dark. Maybe it’s too old.” Belle offered the phone up for inspection.
Henry took the phone and made a face at it. Several faces, in fact. “Definitely old. You can use the camera as long as you want. What did you need it for anyway?”
Belle smiled. “I’m working on a project. I need photographs for it.”
“Secret project?” Henry grinned approvingly when Belle nodded. “Nice. Let me know if you need anything else!”
“I will. Thank you, Henry.”
“Welcome. See you later.”
A few minutes after Henry left Belle closed up the library early. She needed to get outside soon or it would be dark long before she finished and then the camera wasn’t going to be much help at all.
She photographed the library before heading anywhere else. She started with the interior. Her desk, the stacks, the elevator. Rumple had given her this library. And another, once, but that one was hardly something she could photograph. They’d had happy moments in here and she wanted to focus on that. They had saved each other inside this building.
She wanted to take some photos of the shop but that would have to wait until it wasn’t occupied by Rumple. Maybe she would need to involve Henry further after all. He was an excellent distraction for his grandfather and he had already offered his help. For now she’d go places her husband wasn’t likely to be found.
It would be dark faster in the woods than anywhere else, she thought, so she made her way to the wishing well next. They’d been reunited here, when she finally remembered herself after the first curse broke. They’d been married here. There had been other less pleasant associations here but for now she would focus on the positive. That was what this project was all about, after all. Positive memories.
She took dozens of photos at the well. Close-up, far away, pictures of the well itself, pictures at the well looking out into the woods, and everything in between. The nice thing about digital cameras, she’d discovered, was that she could take so many photos and get rid of some later if needed.
“The dock next,” she said to herself, looking up at the sky. “There should be enough light still.”
The dock was where they’d been reunited after Neverland. Rumple had, against the odds, come back to her there. He’d come back to her and he’d brought his son home and they’d been a family for that all too brief time. Not an official family, that had only come after Neal was gone, but a family nonetheless.
By the time she was finished there the sun was setting. Her photography was going well and it was time to head home.
***
“Belle!” Rumplestiltskin was relieved to see her. Terrible things happening to Belle were almost commonplace at this point and he was always somewhat anxious when she went missing, even for a little while. “I went by the library,” he greeted her as she walked into the kitchen. “It was locked and dark.”
“I went for a walk,” Belle said, holding up the camera. “I wanted to test this out.”
“Ah. Does it work?”
“Perfectly,” Belle assured him. “Did you make dinner? It smells wonderful.”
“I did,” he confirmed. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“Famished. It was a lot of walking.”
“I would have driven you home.” His voice wasn’t reproachful, not quite.
“I know.” She smiled. “It was a very pleasant walk. Just long.”
“Well, you’re here now. And so is your meal.”
The next morning Belle was gone before he’d emerged from the shower. She’d left a short and cheerful note that she would see him for dinner and might be out of the library much of the day. He shook his head. Whatever she was up to she was not going to share it with him until she was ready. It was almost certainly nothing he needed to worry about. Somehow that didn’t stop him.
***
“Pancakes are ready,” Granny said. “You done with your photoshoot yet?”
Belle had skipped breakfast at home that morning and by 10 she’d been starving. She’d wanted to get to the shop before Rumple had a chance to catch up with her. It had worked and she hadn’t needed Henry’s assistance after all. At least not yet.
“I think so,” Belle answered. “Thank you.”
“Still not sure what you needed so many photos of an empty booth for.”
“It was too early to put a hamburger on the table,” Belle said. “So empty worked better.”
“What are you on about, girl?”
“We’ve had dates here,” Belle explained. “Our first one was hamburgers, you remember?”
“I try not to,” Granny said with a roll of her eyes. “You making a scrapbook?”
“Something like that.” Belle nodded, pouring more syrup over her pancakes. “We’ve all forgotten so many things so many times. I wanted to document things so they wouldn’t be lost.”
“If I never see another case of magical amnesia it’ll still be too soon,” Granny grumbled in agreement.
“I’ve been taking pictures of places we’ve been happy,” Belle continued. “Henry loaned me his camera. I went to the dock yesterday, and the well. The library, of course. Our house. The shop.”
“I get the picture,” Granny told her. “Pun intended.”
“I have one more thing to do,” Belle said, “besides printing everything out and making the album.”
“And what’s that?”
“Something a little more permanent.” Belle smiled widely. “I’m going to Inkling later to finish the design.”
“And you’ve kept it all a secret?”
“Oh, he knows something’s up and it’s driving him to distraction.”
“That much at least I approve of!”
“Granny, that’s not very nice.”
“Nice isn’t what I’m here for. So where is it going?”
Belle just smiled in answer.
***
The tattoo artist had been very helpful when Belle had first come up with her idea. She’d explained that she wanted something permanent and a tattoo seemed like the thing least likely to vanish under mysterious magical circumstances.
“I’ve never seen one disappear from magic,” the artist agreed. “Lasers, but not magic. So how big were you thinking?”
They went over specifics and eventually sketched out a rough design. Belle had proposed bringing back some photos to help and that had led to her entering the tattoo shop again today, camera in hand.
“Hey Belle! You got your pictures?”
“Probably too many of them,” Belle answered, holding up the camera.
“Lots of reference pictures are a good thing. Let’s take a look.” A little while later the artist changed her tune. “Okay, maybe you took a few too many after all. We’ll narrow it down.”
“The diner booth red I like,” Belle said, turning the camera and pointing. “Can we use that?”
“Sure thing. And you wanted the blue from the china already.”
“My poor cup,” Belle murmured. “And gold, of course.”
“Of course.”
“And here’s the well pictures,” Belle said. “You wanted to see it?”
“I’ve never gone out there. Wanted to make sure I get it right.”
Eventually they settled on a design. Small enough to cover up but big enough to be seen and with enough color to satisfy Belle but not so much they’d need a second visit to finish it.
“So I’ll see you tomorrow morning at 10. Eat a good breakfast, ok? Drink some OJ.”
“I will.”
Belle called Henry as she walked from the tattoo parlor back to the library. “Would you be able to keep your grandfather busy tomorrow? No, no. Nothing like that. Yes. 9:30 should do it.” She laughed. “Thank you, Henry.”
***
The next morning, after a large breakfast courtesy of her tired husband who had been awake almost as much of the night as Belle had, she kissed his cheek and headed for the door.
“Henry said he might stop by your shop this morning,” she told Rumple. “So make sure you leave the door unlocked for him. He hates when he has to stand outside.”
“That only happened the once,” Rumple grumbled. “And he’s never let me forget it.”
“It was freezing outside,” Belle said mildly.
“Perhaps we could all meet for lunch?”
“I can’t today,” Belle answered quickly. “I have an appointment at lunchtime. But an early dinner with the both of you would be lovely.”
“I’ll ask the boy.”
“Let me know what he says and hopefully I’ll see you both tonight.”
***
The tattoo was more uncomfortable than Belle had expected but not as painful as she had feared. She’d read up on the subject, of course, but this was something that had to be experienced to be understood.
“You did great,” the artist assured her. “Ready to see it?”
Belle nodded. “Please.”
“Here’s the mirror. There you go. So?”
“It’s perfect.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Take care of it. There’s a care sheet to remind you what you need to do in case you forgot.”
“I won’t forget.”
***
“Did Henry keep me occupied to your satisfaction?” Rumplestiltskin asked as they drove home.
“Was it that obvious?”
“Quite. Whatever it is you’re up to remains a mystery but that much at least was clear. What happened to your shoulder?” She had been favoring it all evening but she didn’t appear injured in any other way.
“Nothing to worry about. I hurt it this morning but it should be fine in a few days.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Belle promised. “I have something for you, when we get back to the house.”
“Changing the subject to distract me?”
“Did it work?”
“For now.”
“I think you’ll like it.”
“I’m sure I will.” It was from Belle. Of course he would.
The rest of the ride was spent in companionable silence. They were barely in the door of the house before Belle thrust the bag she’d been holding into his hands and shrugged off her coat. She winced once and he frowned.
“Are you sure you’re quite all right?”
“I’ll be fine. Open it?”
“If you insist.” He moved to the couch to sit and patted the cushion beside him. “Now what have we here?” He opened the bag and unwrapped the box contained within. “And what’s the occasion?”
“I don’t need special occasions for gifts. Do I?”
“A photo album?” He opened the book, slowly turning the pages.
“We’ve all forgotten so much, so many times,” Belle said quickly. “I wanted to document some memories. In case it happened again. And since we don’t have pictures of anything when it happened, except that engagement photo in the paper, I had to make do.”
“It’s lovely. But what’s this last photo? It’s blurry.”
“I tried to take it behind my back,” Belle explained. “It didn’t work well. You’ll have to see for yourself.” To his surprise she was already shedding her shirt and turning her back to him.
“Belle?”
“I wanted something permanent,” she explained shyly. “Something that couldn’t be lost or destroyed. Something to remind me, always.”
He reached out a hand, barely grazing her skin with his fingertips.
“The well where we were married,” she explained. “And the key you gave me to the library.”
“The well in the woods is rather less colorful than this one.”
“The red is for the diner,” she explained. “The blue for our chipped cup. The gold I think you can figure it out. I thought about salmon, for the house, but I’d rather not have that particular color forever.”
“Does it hurt?” he asked softly, ignoring the jibe about the house. He’d grown used to the color long ago. His hand remained held at her shoulder, fingertips against her skin.
“It does, a bit.”
“We’ll have none of that.” That was a small enough magic, healing the newly inked skin. Barely even noticeable. “Better?”
“Much.” She turned to face him.
“What do you think?”
“It’s as beautiful,” he assured her. “As the rest of you.”