Chapter Text
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters and have never claimed to. Not even as a joke.
The man who they claimed was Mr. Gold wasn’t. Belle was as sure of this as she was sure that she was alive and that she hated hospitals.
There had been plenty of celebrating upon Emma and Henry’s return to Storybrooke, everyone simply acknowledging Mr. Gold’s return. There was no Baelfire amongst them (rumor had it that the conflict was resolved, but Bae had his own life now and Rumplestiltskin didn’t want to interfere).
A small party was taking place at Granny’s and Belle had donned the yellow dress he enjoyed, taking extra time with her hair. She hoped no one had spoiled the fact that she had her memories back; she wanted to surprise him. She picked up her gift and headed from the library towards Granny’s.
The look on his face when she had smashed their chipped cup against the wall… That was one thing she wished she could forget. There weren’t enough words in the world to make up for that, but she planned on trying.
She slipped quietly into the busy diner, everyone preoccupied with Emma and Henry. Belle caught Ruby’s eye and the waitress smirked, nodding towards the back. Of course Mr. Gold wouldn’t be in the center of it all; he didn’t like people anymore than people liked him. She was proud to be an exception. She ducked her head shyly as she saw a man in a suit leaning on his cane, standing alone and smiling at her.
She met his eyes and froze.
He smiled, “Hello dearie.”
Her memory told her that everything was right; the hair, the brogue, the general form of his body… But it wasn’t him. It was not Mr. Gold or Rumplestiltskin. It was an imposter.
When she didn’t respond, he took a few steps closer, “Belle? You alright?”
How could she be alright if someone was impersonating her lover?
The others started to notice her reluctance to run and embrace this man. Ruby came up beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder.
“Belle…you remember Rumplestiltskin…right?” She asked worriedly.
Belle’s gaze dropped, “Of course, it’s just…”
“It wasn’t exactly a happy farewell,” The imposter supplied with a sad smile, “We’re both a little shy after that incident.”
His eyes…she couldn’t get over how wrong his eyes were.
“Is that for me?” He asked gently, motioning towards the package. She was too still to pull the package away, even though she’d rather destroy it than give it to this man.
He took it tentatively, smiling at her, “Thank you, Belle.”
Even the way he said her name was right… But there was no love to his smile.
He opened it carefully and pulled out the chipped cup she had so painstakingly put back together. After Mr. Gold had left she had gone over to clean up the mess she had created, staring at the shards…and with each shard a piece of her memories returned, until after she had glued the cup back together and she remembered everything.
He tapped the infamous flaw in the cup, “I think you missed a spot,” he teased.
She bristled, “No. No I did not.”
She knew it was a quip, but it wasn’t funny coming from the pretender. Without an explanation, she turned on her heels and left Granny’s, not really caring who stared or how it made the man feel.
Rumplestiltskin’s eyes looked at her with a warmth and tenderness he never showed anyone else, and even when he looked at others she could see the glint of humanity deep in his irises. But whoever had been there pretending to be her true love had void eyes, lacking any human warmth. Bestial, even, calculating and waiting to pounce.
III
He did not come after her that night or the next morning. Not that Belle had ventured farther than the caretaker’s apartment or the library since her flight from Granny’s. If Storybrooke was about to be burned to the ground by a doppelganger then there was really nothing she could do to save them. She couldn’t even say “I told you so” because, coincidentally, she had told no one of her suspicions.
She was shelving books when the front door opened, the tap-tap of a cane relieving. She turned, ready to greet Mr. Gold from his trip back…
…but it was those soulless eyes watching her again, his facial expression just an attempt at caring.
“Did I upset you yesterday?” He asked softly.
Belle turned back to shelving, tensing up, “Yes…”
“I’m sorry, love.” He took a couple of steps closer, “I thought you’d be happy to see me back…”
“I will be, once the real you comes home.”
She was quite proud of the way he had stopped in his tracks at her statement.
“What do you mean?”
“I know you aren’t Rumplestiltskin,” she said casually, moving to a new shelf, “You may have everyone else in this town fooled, but not me.”
“Are you sure? Perhaps you have a memory or two missing…”
“I’m sure,” she said firmly.
“Then congratulations.” It took everything in Belle not to jump as the voice suddenly came from directly behind her, warm breath washing over her ear, “Seems like you’re the only smart lamb in the entire flock of Storybrooke.”
Belle set the book she was holding down, focusing on keeping from stuttering, “Who are you?”
“Why don’t I tell you over dinner?”
“I’m not going to have dinner with a stranger.”
“So your grandmother has warned you about speaking with wolves… That makes my job a little more difficult.”
She turned around carefully, practically brushing up against the man who bore such an eerie resemblance to Rumple. There was a mix of curiosity and hunger in his expression. Very wolfish indeed.
“What are you doing here?” She murmured.
“Settling down for a bit,” He matched her volume. There was a dark twinkle in his eye, as though he were making a joke she didn’t understand.
His hand came up and cupped her chin, examining her, “So you’re the Beauty, eh? I can see that,” he admitted, then grinned, “Intelligent, too… Oh yes, I am going to have fun with you, drinking your innocence like a fine wine as I waltz you to the lakes of hellfire.”
Belle fought the urge to spit in his face, or bite his hand, or really anything to tell him that his deception would not be tolerated.
This was where the game began.