Every Waking Moment

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Cora (The Queen of Hearts): You can tell me

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Cora (The Queen of Hearts): You can tell me. You must tell me. (The Stable Boy)

Mr. Gold lay in the middle of Belle's big brass bed, listening to her breathe, feeling like he'd been created anew. Even his bad leg, propped up by her gentle hands on a feather pillow, no longer ached. Letting her into the dark corners of his life had been as revitalizing as letting her into his castle had been. Once more, she'd flung back the musty curtains and brought in the sun.

I can be a better man-for Belle. Of course, it wouldn't be easy. Despite what he'd hoped, Mr. Gold suspected that Charming was right. His weathering the car attack unscathed proved that coming to Storybrooke hadn't broken the Dark One curse. But if he could keep its influence to a manageable level, he could remain its master. If he coolly calculated each action, resisted the compulsion to fulfill dark whims-his own and others'-he could maintain a course Belle would approve.

Just one crushed snail incident, and I'll lose her again.

And amends-he needed to make amends, limited, thank goodness, to anyone with a complaint who, A, was still alive and, B, had been brought to Storybrooke. He'd already dealt with the shoemaker couple, and he was working on Geppetto's parents. Fellow citizens who held grudges regarding relatives now departed-like the butcher's father-would be harder to mollify, but he would do his best. To keep track, he'd start a spreadsheet.

Belle stirred. Mr. Gold's pulse quickened. Turning his head, he watched her languorously stretch her spine, loll her head back with a sigh, flutter her lashes, then sleepily open her eyes. When she caught sight of him, she came wide awake with a delighted hmmm. She propped herself on one elbow and smiled down at him. "I floated from here to dreamland and back again. I don't know which of your talents flies me higher-your mouth, your fingers, your hips..."

You're the creative one. I merely ply my craft. Mr. Gold ran his eyes over Belle's beautiful face. "Sweetheart, I can't be what you were expecting when you first kissed your beast. You were robbed of the young, agile, handsome prince you deserved."

"Hmph. Phooey on that." Belle laughed. "I wanted you, remember? Even though I'd never before seen you free of the Dark One curse, when Storybrooke came alive, I recognized you immediately-recognized you as the man I love."

Free of the curse? Well, nearly. Gazing into Belle's affectionate blue eyes, Mr. Gold nodded. 'Rumplestiltskin, wait.' He'd never forget the thrill of hearing those words.

Belle cocked her head. "Those first few weeks here, I wasn't what you deserved. I was edgy, suspicious, jumpy-making demands, issuing ultimatums at every turn."

"After the trauma you'd been through? Because of me? That was nothing." Mr. Gold caressed Belle's cheek. "I can't help but think how much happier your life would have been if I'd never come into it at all."

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