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“The tea’s getting cold.”
Belle had set the tea tray down in his lab, as she did every day. Rumplestiltskin had sat at the table but hadn’t touched the tea or even looked at the chipped cup. She stood there, waiting, but all he did was stare at the wall and tap his claws on the table.
She expected a snarky comeback, telling her it’s his tea and that he’ll drink it when and if he wants to, or how he could magically make it hot again. Instead, she was met with silence.
Okay, now she was getting worried.
“Rumple? Rum?” She waved her hand in front of his face. “All-mighty, Dark One? Is something wrong?”
Instead of rising to her bait, he seemed not to hear her. He bit his lip, something she rarely saw him do. Belle only caught his whispered, “Late. He’s never this late,” because she was already leaning over the table.
“Are you expecting someone?” When he still didn’t reply, Belle placed her hand over his arm. “You’re starting to scare me, Rum. Please talk to me.”
He flinched and—finally—turned away from the wall to look at her. His brows furrowed as if trying to figure out when she had arrived. “An—associate of mine. He has a rare ability to traverse between magical realms. I give him gold, and he brings me back the items I request. He should be kicked down the caste’s gate by now, annoying me, but I’m Hatter-less.”
She didn’t understand what a hat maker had to do with anything, but other than herself—and his son, whom they never mentioned again—she’d never seen Rumple care about anyone this much. “Perhaps he got held up in the other realm?” It sounded crazy to say such a thing, even though she knew travel between realms was possible.
Rumple shook his head. “No, he came back a week ago. He doesn’t always come straight here, but it’s never taken him this long.”
“Maybe you should go check on your friend?”
Rumple hummed, then disappeared. He didn’t even argue that this mystery man wasn’t his friend, because the Dark One doesn’t do friends. He teleported without a trace of smoke, without any flamboyance or snark. She realized he was more than worried; he was afraid. She’d only ever seen him look like that when she was hurt or when he’d confided in her that he was terrified he’d never find his son. He was only ever truly terrified for people he—
Oh, he was more than a friend, wasn’t he?
She cleared the table while thinking. Did he even know? Rumplestiltskin may have been a master of dark magic, but he was also a master at lying to himself.
As she cleared the table, Rumple appeared again, carrying a tall man covered in blood, wearing a ripped suit and an oddly shaped hat.
She gasped as he set the man on the table. “Get me some yarrow, calendula, and plantain! Hurry!”
Rumple placed his hands over his body and began chanting. Belle saw his hands glow with a faint ivory hue she had never seen his magic take on before. She rushed over, grabbed the herbs from the cabinet and a damp cloth, thankful for his paranoia, since everything was labeled. By the time she returned, Rumple had already disposed of the tattered shirt. She took half a second to admire his slim chest and muscles of someone used to heavy lifting before getting to work.
While Rumple used magic, Belle carefully cleaned and bandaged the wounds. Yarrow would stop most of the bleeding, though the healing magic had already stopped the worst of it. Calendula would help the cuts heal and hopefully prevent infection. She wrapped the deepest lacerations in plantain because calendula wouldn’t be enough.
Neither of them spoke until Rumple slumped into the chair, looking more exhausted than she’d ever seen him after using magic. The man was still unconscious, and his skin wasn’t boiling to the touch, only slightly warm.
“What happened?” Belle asked nervously, breaking the vigil.
Rumple shook his head, “I don’t know. His daughter Grace was sobbing so hard that I could barely understand her. She pointed to the woods and mentioned he ‘never came back’. I tracked him down. Found him lying face down, looking like.” He waved his hand towards the hatter. “That.”
She had so many questions. Where was the girl’s mother? How was he able to track him so quickly? But her curiosity could wait. Only one question mattered: “What about Grace? Is she safe?”
“She has a caretaker.”
“I think it may be best if you brought her to the castle for a while.”
He looked away from the sleeping man and at her for the first time since they sat down. “Why would I do that?”
“Because.” She placed her hand over his. His scales were always so smooth. She had dreamed of running her hands over him, exploring every texture. “I don’t think he’ll be able to leave anytime soon, and that poor girl must be terrified for her father.”
His shoulders slumped even more, but she thought it was from shame rather than exhaustion. “Right. Of course.” He started to stand, but she placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down.
“You said she was safe. Rest for a bit before going back, at least a little. You don’t want to be too drained to protect her if something happens.”
He grumbled but didn’t try to stand again.
Belle watched how he looked at the prone man, and she knew. It was the same way he looked at her. If someone else could reach the Dark One’s heart, she thought that person was worth knowing.
“Rumple?”
“Hmm?”
“Tell me about your friend.”